Never Lose Hope

Chapter Twelve

            “I need to call him.” She says frantically which startles me. Who’s he? Does she have a boyfriend that nobody knows about. After that it just gets really confusing because they’re talking in Arabic. She’s on the phone with some girl talking Arabic. I look at Kevin confused and he just shrugs his shoulders just as confused as me. She lets out a loud gasp that sounds that it’s mixed in with a sob. She covers her mouth before she grabs the crutches and rushes out of the room. Everyone gets up to go talk to her but I stop them.

            “Can I talk to her Mr. Assaf?” I ask kindly. I know I shouldn’t, but I feel she needs someone to talk to who doesn’t know much about her past. I know that they will be hurt by her reaction. Mr. Assaf nods his head and rubs his neck sitting down on the couch.

            I run after her and find her in dark corner hugging her knees her face hidden between them. I kneel in front of the her and notice she looks really broken and it breaks my heart to see her like this. I touch her knee gently and she jerks. “Leave me alone.” She says through her tears. I hear her sobs even if they’re really quiet but I could notice it.

            “Sara, could you look at me?” I ask her quietly. She shakes her head. “You have to talk to someone. Could you tell me what that phone call was about?” I ask, again she shakes her head. “Sara, please talk to me.” I practically beg her now.

            “I don’t want to talk about it.”

            “It’s better if you let it out, it’s unhealthy if you keep it to yourself.” I try to explain.

Jihad’s Point of View

            When I see Troy standing there next to my sister, all I want to do is push him away from her. I know that he considers her a friend, but I also know he has feeling for her. I haven’t seen him talk to a girl like he talks to my sister. He’s a flirt, but when he’s with her, he treats her just like a guy should treat a girl, which makes it obvious that he likes her. He knows not to flirt with my sister. I cross my arms and huff. My father standing behind me with his hands on my shoulder to stop me from marching up to my best friend. “Let him talk to her.” My father whispers. We continue to watch from the kitchen as Troy whispers something to her and she shakes her head.

            “Why are you letting him near your daughter?” I ask through clenched teach. “You’re going to let your daughter near him?”

            “Listen to yourself Jihad. There’s nothing wrong with her talking to another guy. I have trust in my daughter. Hamada raised her right. Put yourself in her shoes. Would you rather talk to someone who knows too much, or a friend that doesn’t know anything?”

            “I’d rather talk to someone who relates, someone like Tamara that knew the man as well.” I say annoyed at my father for letting them near each other. “Can’t you see that he likes her? Do you want their friendship to continue if you know he’ll try to make a move on her?”

            “I know he likes her, why do you think I let him talk to her? He told me he wanted a friendship with her. Other boys wouldn’t bother asking a father’s permission. He has respect for our religion, and I trust the both of them together, just keep an eye on them.” My father says.

            “Wait, what? He talked to you? When was this, how come you never told me?”

            “He came by the day before she left the hospital, and I didn’t tell you because my daughter is not your concern. I’m her father, and I give her permission to talk to him as friends, and only friends. You can come to me when things get out of control with them. Just trust your sister.” Next thing I know they’re both talking to each other and she’s looking at him through her tears. I just want to walk up to her and hug her until she feels better. Yes, I am one those brother’s that care about their younger sister. What can I say, I feel like I just got her back, when we fled from Palestine I felt as if I was leaving half of me. Even though I was only 6, I still felt a connection with her, and when I found out the private investigator knew about her where she was I felt like I could just fly from how happy I was. Growing up I would always have dreams about her. Some of them good dreams, where she had a smile on her face wherever she was staying, other were bad dreams where she would get abused by the people who took her in, I was the one that talked my father into getting a PI because I knew we wouldn’t be able to do it ourselves. When she came home with her friend I felt complete, like the half of that was with her, was with us together. So yeah, I’m not sorry for being protective of my sister. I worry about her, that’s normal for an older brother.