Blue-Haired Muslim

Chapter 7: Questions

 

     Sam glanced at his dad who had just appeared in the living room, towel drying his hair. Max yawned before heading to the kitchen and pouring himself a tumbler of coffee. Sam could tell that Max would be exhausted by the time he came home, but he could see that Max was actually in a good mood. 

     "You know, that little girl? Khadijah?" Max called out before sipping on his coffee and heading towards the living room to put on his shoes. 

     "Yeah. What about her, Dad?" Sam asked as he thought of the little girl with blue eyes.

     "She's entertaining. You can tell that she's being raised right," Max stated as he nodded with his assessment. 

     "They're all very protective of her. You saw how Ms. Hashemi nearly tore out our necks because she thought we were creeping on Khadijah," Sam pointed out and laughed as Max spit out his coffee. "You alright, Dad?"

      "That kind of totally explains whey Rana went all Ice Queen of the North on us. I didn't even think about that," Max chuckled. 

     "Yeah, of course you didn't. You were too busy trying to remember how to talk," Sam teased his dad before wiping some of the coffee off his shirt. 

     "You know, you're a good kid, Sam. You're always taking care of me. Rana reminded me that sometimes things happen in life and we don't get to say what we really want to. I want you to know that I'm very proud of the young man you've become. Christian, Buddhist, whatever, if it makes you happy and gives you inner peace, I'll stand by you," Max explained while placing a hand on Sam's shoulder. 

     "See, this is why Ms. Hashemi nearly tore our throats out, Dad. You're being creepy again," Sam sighed before shaking his head.

     "Right. Well, I'm off to work. Get to bed early. You have school tomorrow," Max commanded playfully after clearing his throat.

     Sam smiled and watched Max reach for the front door. It was true, what Max had said. Sometimes you couldn't say all the things you want to before it's too late. He felt like he had a million things to say to his mother before she passed away, but he was never able to. With that thought in mind, Sam cleared his throat and called out,

     "Dad?"

     "Yeah, Sam the Man?" Max smiled with the door half open. 

     "Thanks. For saying all that," Sam nodded.

     Max nodded with a smile in return before heading out the door, closing the door behind him. Sam smiled and headed into his room. The first thing he did was remove the small charm on his wrist. He looked at the emerald and smiled. This small remnant of his mother's had connected him with a very sweet little girl and his father with an old friend. Mom must know that dad doesn't have that many friends, Sam thought to himself. He placed the small charm in a mahogany box that rested on his desk. He had carefully selected the box to hold his precious treasure nearly a year ago. He glanced at a matching framed picture that sat next to the box and whispered,

     "I nearly lost your charm, Mom. You must have sent Khadijah to give it back to me. She kind of reminds me of you. I don't know why that is. Maybe it's because she speaks her mind just like you did. She has an aunt that has red dye at the tips of her hair. I don't know why that made me feel good. It's like when Wendy came to church with that purple streak in her hair. I wasn't weird. I wasn't the weird kid with the blue hair. I wasn't alone. I wasn't sure how the Muslims would be and how they'd feel about me. I don't know why I was so apprehensive. They're just like us," Sam murmured before touching his mother's face with his index finger.