Sequoia Valley: Imperfect (Free Preview)

11

A/N: This is an excerpt of the original chapter. Book must be be purchased for full story.
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“Assalâmu ’alaykum,” he mumbled and sat down on the steps, staring at the empty street.

“Wa’alaykumus salâm,” James replied. “Still feeling down?”

“Yup.”

“And I assume you still don’t want to talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“Alright then.”

Jâsim expected him to say more, but James was silent. When he threw a glance over his shoulder at him, James was reading the book again. Jâsim sighed and turned away.

“Would you like to go on a short camping trip of sorts?”

Jâsim was taken by surprise by the question. He turned to look at James.

He was still reading and casually turned a page of his book.

“A camping trip?” Jâsim asked.

James looked up. “Sure. We can set up a camp for the day; maybe go fishing, too. When you have a problem, it helps to have Allâh’s creation around you. You feel the connection the most out there. You might not solve the problem, but you’ll feel better. At least that’s how it works for me.”

Jâsim’s heart lightened. He couldn’t believe what James was offering him. “I’d love to go.”

“Figured you might,” James said with a soft smile. “Allâh knows how much I wanted my father to take me somewhere at least once—not that it ever happened.”

Jâsim sensed a painful story in James’s tone, so he didn’t ask. “When do we go?”

“After you get the okay from your mother and I pack some things,” James replied. “It’ll just be a few hours or so. Bring some extra clothes with you just in case.”

“Okay.” Jâsim, feeling more enthused since the confrontation with Imâm Hassan, got to his feet and hurried home.

He found Sumayyah still in the den reading. “Mâmâ, can I go camping with James?”

Sumayyah glanced up from her book. “Oh, when did you get there? I didn’t hear your salâm.”

Jâsim took the hint. “Assalâmu ’alaykum.”

“Wa’alaykumus salâm.” She set the book down on her lap. “Now you may tell me about this camping trip.”

“Can I go?”

“May I.”

“May I go?”

“How long will you be gone?” she asked.

“He said just a few hours or so.”

Sumayyah tapped her fingers against the arm of her chair. “I guess it’s fine if he brings you back before dark. Your phone should be with you, and I want you to message me when you get there and when you leave.”

“Okay.”

After that was decided, he went to his room to pack the extra pair of clothes he’d need. He shoved them into the plain black school bag he’d used last year and then poked his head back in the den. “I’m going.”

“What are you taking with you?” she asked, looking up from the book she was once again reading.

He held up the bag. “James said to bring extra clothes just in case.”

She nodded. “Take a water thermos and a snack, too.”

“Okay.”

He headed to the kitchen, set the bag on the table, and found a thermos and food container. He filled the thermos with water and then made two peanut butter sandwiches that he packed into the container. He stuffed both in his bag. Then he headed for the door.

“I’m leaving, Mâmâ!” he called as he pulled on his shoes. “Assalâmu ’alaykum.”

“Wa’alaykumus salâm,” she called back. “Lock the door behind you.”

As Jâsim stepped outside, he locked the door as she’d asked and crossed the street to James’s. The car was running and James was packing an icebox into the trunk. He glanced up as Jâsim came toward him.

“So she was fine with it?” he asked.

Jâsim nodded. “She said to bring me back before dark though.”

“I will,” James said as he closed the trunk. “We’ll be out there for a few hours tops and then come back.”

After James had finished packing up everything they’d need, they got into the car and drove off. James plugged a USB drive into a port and a nasheed started playing.

“How long has it been just you and your mother?” he asked after several minutes of silent driving.

“Since I was four,” Jâsim told him. “Bâbâ left and never came back.”

“You don’t hear from him?” James inquired, then added, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. Maybe I’m being too nosy.”

Jâsim stared out of the window. “I never hear from him. At first, I thought he’d come to visit me, and Mâmâ thought so, too. She’d call him to come and see me, but he never did. Then I thought maybe he would at least call, but he didn’t do that either. When Mâmâ would call, he didn’t want to talk to me. She let me call myself once when I was younger because I asked. He was mean and nasty. She stopped trying to call him and I stopped wanting to see him.”

James was silent for several long moments. “You’re not at fault, you know,” he finally said, as if knowing Jâsim had always wondered if it was something he’d done. “It’s not your fault.”

“Then why doesn’t he want anything to do with me?” Jâsim asked in a low voice, vocalizing the feelings he hadn’t even shared with his mother. “If it wasn’t my fault, he should still want to see me or visit me.”

“Some men just aren’t good fathers,” James said. His expression changed to one of pain, and Jâsim wondered if James’s father had been one such man.

“He has another family, you know,” Jâsim told him bitterly. “He’s a good father to them but not to me.”

“You’re a great kid, Jâsim,” James said with firm sincerity. “I can’t explain your father’s decisions and behavior to you, but I know this—your father is losing out.”

Sumayyah had said such words to him on many occasions, and so had his uncles, but it felt different when James said it. He believed it more. James wasn’t obligated to love him like his family. He wasn’t saying the words to be nice. Jâsim could feel the sincerity in every word, every syllable. James had said it because he meant it.

It made him feel a lot better about a situation that had always bothered him. It didn’t matter that Fareed wanted nothing to do with them so much anymore, because it really wasn’t Jâsim’s fault. He held on to that feeling for the rest of the drive.