Void - Finding Islam (EDITING)

Chapter Eight

"What?"

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. I don't feel the slight tickle of the silky strands. My fingers are frozen.

"I told you. Crashed front. Broken headlights. It needs repair."

My mother purses her lips together. She tries to have a look at me while at the same time concentrating on the dark road before her. "Why didn't you tell me as soon as it happened?"

I shrug. "I thought it wasn't worth it. The guy was really nice. He offered to repair it right away."

She stops at a red light. She is looking intensely at a blue street lamp.

"How would you go to and from school?" She asks.

"I'll figure something out." I say. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine. When are you getting it back?"

I frown. "In 3 days. Something happened today?"

Sighing heavily, my mother retreats in her chair, her hands falling to her lap.

"Hard day at work."

"Criticisms?"

She looks over at me. "Yeah. This time it's threatening the whole newspaper, though." She waits a beat before she adds. "It was one of my articles."

I eye her. She looks exasperated. A velvet black scarf is tied loosely around her head, held in place by a single red pin. From this angle, I can see the normal side of her face.

My mother is beautiful. But the constant state of frustration about her –the creased eyebrows, pursed lips, overall grimace– almost fails to convey that fact.

I look out the window. It's futile, seeing as it's all foggy, so I look back at my mother.

"It'll be okay." I say.

She looks at me briefly, pressing the gas pedal. "How do you know?"

I don't. "It's true. As long as Allah is there, everything will be okay, right?"

She takes a deep breath and then nods. "Yeah. Right."

I turn to the window.

The rest of the journey is quiet, almost peaceful if not for my mother's non-stop tapping on the steering wheel.

In less than an hour, we were parked in our garage and I was walking to the door.

"Hey, buddy." I say as soon as I get in and spot Omar on the sofa with a bowl of crackers, watching TV.

He turns to look at me and scowls. "You're late. Supernatural started like 20 minutes ago."

I wince. "Damn, I completely forgot about that. "I toss my keys on the table and snatch the bag of crackers from Omar. "Make room."

He scoots over and I flop down beside him.

Mom comes in a minute later with dad on her heels.

"Assalamu'alaikum." He greets us as he gets in.

Omar greets him back and I fidget in my seat, muttering a curt "wa'alaikum" and popping a handful of peanuts in my mouth as an excuse.

My father and I haven't been talking a little over a week now and I'm not about to start talking to him now.

I silently decide that I'm not going to talk to him ever again. Then I feel childish.

"Hey, Dad?" Omar said suddenly.