"That's Baba, right? That's Baba's voice!" Khadijah asked Sam earnestly as the young man paused the DVD.
"Calm down. There's more," Sam instructed Khadijah. He pressed play again and smiled at Iman. Iman was sure she had a look of disbelief on her face. She had heard her husband's voice after nearly ten years and it was of him being tortured. She watched as the professor was pushed back by two burly students who growled at the educator. A third young man held up a flyer and yelled,
"We DEMAND the truth. You cannot lie to us about the whereabouts of Dawood Khan any longer! We demand due process!"
Due process was something Dawood had never been given. In fact, he had been whisked away before anyone could get any facts together, before any reporters could get the truth. Iman watched as numerous college students began voicing their displeasure towards the government and administration. Where had these people been when her family had been brought to the brink of poverty due to the same government? If they had spoken out back then, something could have been done earlier. Before Iman could dwell on more hypotheticals, Dawood's voice played again on the projector, this time with subtitles.
"You've been doing this for five years. Aren't y'all tired yet? You won't break me," Dawood's worn voice whispered. A slam could be heard through the tape and a new voice joined Dawood's.
"Listen hear, sandnigger. We know you've got connections in Pakistan. Your ex-wife's third cousin's granduncle is a former ISI agent. We know how deep your connections run," the voice growled.
"Well, fuck, lock me up and throw away the key, Carl. Is your name Carl? I feel like you're a Carl. Carl, I also have a sister that married a K-Pop star. Must mean I know the South Korean president, right?" Dawood chuckled and could be heard spitting. "Thanks for slamming me against the table. The blood in my mouth really brings out the bloodshot in my eyes."
"My name's not fucking CARL," Carl growled.
Another slam could be heard, this one louder than the first, causing both Iman and Khadijah to flinch. They both knew these were sounds of their loved one being beaten. Khadijah let out a shudder and glanced at her mother. Iman gnawed on her cheek and blinked back tears. She knew that Dawood had to have faced unspeakable torture with the way he was whisked away by the government, but to hear her suspicions coming true was something she wished she had never faced. Dawood could be heard laughing in between pants, as if mocking those that were around him.
"You think you're such a good little Muslim, don't you? Waging jihad on the country that raised you, but what more could we expect from the religion of peace? Hmm? You all are known to practice taqqiya and then attack infidels, kaafirs, when we least expect it. Did you think we wouldn't retaliate? Did you think we'd let you kill our loved ones and let you walk free?" Carl began again.
"Fuck. Could really use a taqqiya right now. Hell, could you put in a requisition for a taqqiya for me?" Dawood asked with another laugh.
Iman noticed that nearly everyone that understood Urdu was smiling in their room. Taqqiya literally translated into "pillow" in Urdu, a fact Dawood had always joked about. In fact, the soldier had never heard of the concept of taqqiya that was being spread by misinformed bigots until HE was accused of practicing it. To the ignorant, taqqiya was the practice of subterfuge supposedly allowed in Islam. In this practice, a Muslim was allowed to deny they were Muslim or disavow their religious beliefs if they felt persecuted.
"You think this is a joke, camel jockey?" Carl growled.
"Yes," Dawood chuckled, "because that's the only way I'm making it through this shitty ordeal."
"Who says you're getting through this?" Carl asked with a chuckle of his own. Dawood could be heard wheezing before saying,"
"You won't kill me because you still need me for whatever fucked up situation is going on outside of this torture arena. Propped up and fucked by my own government. Can you imag-."
Iman heard a sickening crunch followed by heavy breathing. Khadijah was now pacing while wringing her hands. She could see the fury this video had ignited behind Khadijah's eyes and it worried her. The last thing she wanted was for her daughter to be caught up in some sort of revenge fantasy. She nearly stood up to console her eldest when she heard Dawood shudder and say,
"Break my body. Break my bones, but you will never break my resolve. I'm not a good Muslim. I'm not even an adequate Muslim. I killed for a living, but you know what? I did one good thing. I had a kid. I raised a daughter. Her name is Khadijah Amina Khan. You remember her name because she saw everything and you know what? She's being raised by an even tougher woman, Iman Abdullah-Khan. She's OUR girl which means you can break her body, you can break her bones, but you will NEVER break her resolve."
The video cut out and Iman glanced at Khadijah who seemed to be fighting a mixture of tears and fury. The tall teen gritted her teeth and glanced at Sam who looked at his cousin with a mix of apprehension and hope. Khadijah frowned and paced before whispering,
"What happened next? You turned it off."
"Yeah well, it's just him getting beat up," Sam shook his head.
"I just heard my baba's voice for the first time in nearly a decade and it was of him being interrogated. What part of that did you think would make me smile, Sam Bhai?" Khadijah asked seriously.
"The part where people are asking questions, demanding answers, Khadijah. You were fighting this ALONE. You were trying to bring him back ALONE. Now, we've got people on our side. There's HOPE, Khadijah. There's hope for REAL justice," Sam explained and smiled at the teen.
"Sam, does your mother know about this?" Iman asked before approaching Khadijah and placing an arm around her shoulders protectively.
"Uh, I wanted to show you guys first. Look, change comes when people get riled up about an injustice. There's nothing more unjust than what happened to Uncle Dawood. Khadijah, you HEARD him. You are the catalyst in this entire thing. You didn't give up one day on your dad. Not one day. They'll never break your resolve and now, people know that you were there that day. There's is nothing more powerful than a group of college kids with a cause," Sam explained.
Khadijah looked at Sam in thought before looking at Iman. Iman smiled and whispered,
"He's right. I used to be one of those college kids with a cause. Shehzadi, your baba said something very important in that tape. Did you pay attention?"
"They can't kill him. They need him for something," Khadijah murmured. Iman noticed a smile playing at the corner of her lips, "He told us. This was his message to us."
"Yeah, I think it was, but that means he knew this would be leaked," Ahmed nodded in thought and looked at Sam before asking, "How was this tape leaked?"
"No idea, but it's evident that they record these sessions. Maybe a guard grew a conscience," Sam shrugged.
"I really doubt that. You heard Carl," Khadijah pointed out before smirking. "Hehe. Carl."
"Look, I don't know who leaked this thing, but you know that whoever put Uncle Dawood away is probably pissed, so whatever we do, we do it now," Sam explained.
"Do? We're not doing anything. You said nothing is more powerful than college kids with a cause and I agree, Sam," Iman began, "but I will not risk my family's safety over a five year-old tape."
"Mama, it's not like we're mounting a rescue mission," Khadijah began.
"Shehzadi, don't you have school tomorrow?" Iman asked, changing the subject and ending their discussion.
"Yes, ma'am," Khadijah nodded and headed back towards the main residence. Sam followed Khadijah in a hurry, leaving Iman with Ahmed in the theater.
"Bhabi, I know you're worried," Ahmed began, but was silenced by Iman's soft voice.
"I may seem like the stereotypical overprotective mother you read about in books, Ahmed, but I will not let the past ten years go to waste. We have collectively protected the children from the ugly out there. I KNOW Khadijah is old enough to make her own decisions, but I will not throw her to the wolves. I've put my own reservations aside while sending her to school, but this is something else," Iman explained and glanced towards the doors as Ruby walked in.
"I just watched Sam run off after a very ticked off Khadijah. Something I should know?" Ruby asked.
"Dawood was alive five years ago. Someone leaked an audio recording from one of his interrogations," Ahmed explained to his wife.
"Wai-wait. What?" Ruby asked in disbelief. "I mean I always knew Dawood was alive somewhere, but getting confirmation like this? W-where's the recording? What are we going to do?"
"We're not doing anything. We cannot go against an institution as big as our government on the basis of a leaked recording. I'm not risking exposing my family to this. I don't want anything to happen to any of us, including you all. Why did we move to a secluded location like this if all we're going to do is walk right back into that fiasco? Ruby pulled all the connections she could muster to keep us safe and away from the protesters and generally anyone that holds ill will towards us. I've put my faith in Allah thus far. I'm going to continue to do so," Iman explained.
"She's right, you know," Ruby pointed out as the trio exited the theater.
"I get that. Logically, Bhabi has always made sense, but Dawood's my brother. I just-I want him home," Ahmed whispered.
"Do you think I DON'T want him back? Ahmed, he has two children that he has no idea about," Iman pointed out and immediately smiled once Ismail ran straight to her.
"Mama! Where'd you guys go?" Ismail asked with an exaggerated sigh.
"I'm never too far away, sweetheart," Iman smiled before holding the little boy's hand.
"We'll talk about this later, Bhabi," Ahmed called out while Iman headed to the front door to leave the Hashemi residence. Iman nodded noncommittally and waited for Ishaq to join her before leaving the abode.
"Mama," Ishaq called out as they crossed over to their own house.
"Yes, my love?" Iman replied with a smile. Her children seemed to always bring a smile to her face no matter how depressing her circumstances were.
"Why do you look so sad?" Ishaq asked before stopping at their front door to look at his mother.
"Do I look sad?" Iman asked in surprise and unconsciously patted her face. She smiled and looked at Ismail before repeating her question, "Do I look sad?"
"You did," Ismail nodded and gave Iman's waist a hug. "Don't be sad, Mama. We love you."
"I love you more," Ishaq added and gave Iman's waist a hug as well.
"Nuh uh! I love her more!" Ismail frowned and hugged Iman tighter.
"It doesn't matter if you love me more. I love you both equally," Iman smiled and pulled the twins apart before opening the front door.
Khadijah was sitting on a recliner in the sitting area of the house and was in the middle of what seemed like a heated discussion with Sam. The tall teen glanced towards the front door once it opened and looked at her brothers and then her mother before standing up.
"You two head up to your rooms and shower," Iman instructed before heading to the kitchen. The twins nodded and took off towards their rooms while Khadijah stood up and followed her mother.
"Mama," Khadijah called out before sitting at the kitchen's island.
"Yes, Shehzadi?" Iman replied with a smile. She wanted the teenager to know that the only reason she was against taking any kind of initiative was because she feared for her children's safety.
"I'm sorry for getting ahead of myself back there. It's just-," Khadijah frowned and pursed her lips before adding, "I haven't heard Baba's voice in so long and to know they were hurting him. I just want him safe."
"My love, did I say anything to you?" Iman asked softly. "I understand where you're coming from better than anyone. Do you feel as if I was angry at you?"
"No. Not really. You just seemed-I don't know," Khadijah shook her head.
"Aunt Iman, you seemed apprehensive," Sam added while joining them.
"I am. Greatly so. We've done so much to protect all of you from the manipulation that lays beyond our own territory. I know you all are older and are far more mature than other children, but I'm a mom. I worry," Iman admitted.
At that moment, Ismail dashed down the stairs and yelled out,
"Baji! There's a flood!"
"Again?" Khadijah chuckled and excused herself.
Iman sighed, knowing full well that the boys had decided to block off the overflow drains in order to further fill their bathtubs. Whenever they wished to avoid a scolding, they would speak in code with their sister. Sadly their code words were usually blatantly obvious.
"Khadijah is a saint," Sam chuckled and picked up an apple from the fruit basket on the counter.
"She's a sister who is desperately trying to fulfill her missing father's role so that her brothers know they are loved and her mother can feel at ease. She thinks I can't see it. She thinks she has to share the burden. She's a teenager, Sam. She doesn't need this level of stress," Iman sighed.
"Mom says you went through worse than what Khadijah is facing, Aunt Iman and you came out like a boss," Sam pointed out before chomping down on the apple.
Iman sighed and rubbed her forehead before adjusting her scarf. It was true that what she went through as a teenager was worse, but the last thing she wanted was to make her daughter face similar hardships.
"Mama" Khadijah called out as she headed towards Iman.
"You're drenched," Sam chuckled and checked his watch. "I'm heading back. See you guys later."
"Be careful, Sam," Iman called out.
"I'll be fine, Aunt Iman. I'm JUST going home," Sam grinned and headed outside with a wave.
"Mama," Khadijah began again while removing her drenched socks, "the boys may have made a mess."
"I can see that. A mess can be cleaned up. Give them mops," Iman smiled and looked at Khadijah in surprise as the teen abruptly hugged her. "Shehzadi?"
"I love you, Mama and in hindsight I realized I acted like an idiot earlier," Khadijah winced.
Iman chuckled and kissed the top of her daughter's head. She held the teen against herself for a minute before letting the teenager go. She touched Khadijah's cheek gently and whispered,
"You're anything but an idiot, my love. Now, go give your brothers a couple mops and stop trying to clean up their messes," Iman smiled.
"They're tiny, Mama. I can't help but help them," Khadijah smiled sheepishly before dashing towards a utility closet to grab cleaning supplies.
Their evening progressed as usual and soon Iman found herself sitting with Mehak in the living room while watching the news. The boys had been tucked into their beds and Khadijah was busy working on her homework at the dining table while sipping on coffee.
"Are you SURE you don't need my help, Shehzadi?" Mehak called out for the tenth time in a span of ten minutes.
"Aunt Mehak, oh my God. You taught me this in like, what, fourth grade?" Khadijah chuckled.
"I know but I am feeling so antsy since you didn't attend class with your brothers today. I don't like a deviation from routine," Mehak sighed.
"Well, Khadijah is now on the threshold of adulthood. We're going to be seeing a lot more deviations," Iman smiled.
"Mama," Khadijah began before closing her book.
"Yes, Shehzadi?" Iman asked once she turned the volume down to give her daughter her undivided attention.
"Okay, like, this is going to sound a bit weird and please don't tell Aunt Ruby or she'll call her one of her psychiatrist friends to examine me," Khadijah began apprehensively and glanced at Mehak before holding up her hands, "and yes Aunt Mehak I've finished my homework."
"Is everything alright, Shehzadi?" Iman asked in concern.
"Well, yes. Also no," Khadijah began again and picked up her mug before heading over to her mother.
"You need to cut back on the caffeine, my love," Iman pointed out.
"One cup, Mama. It's my kryptonite," Khadijah grinned sheepishly before sitting down next to Iman. Iman unconsciously brushed back Khadijah's hair from her face and studied her daughter. It was amazing how much Khadijah now looked like Dawood. Along with Dawood's blue eyes, she seemed to be inheriting his height as well.
"Mama, you're staring again," Khadijah pointed out with a smile. Iman smiled and nodded before patting Khadijah's cheek. She knew she was staring at her daughter, but there were times where she couldn't help herself.
"What were you going to say to us, Khadijah?" Mehak asked as she studied the teen.
"Like I said, please don't psychoanalyze what I say, okay? I just- I need to- okay here goes," Khadijah began once again. "How do you reign in fury? Okay don't give me those looks. I'm asking for a reason."
"What reason could you possibly have to ask that, Khadijah?" Iman asked in concern. She knew that both Mehak and her had twin looks of concern on their faces as they looked at the teen who now held up her hands defensively, as if trying to ease their thoughts.
"The reason being that I saw someone today, from my past, who caused me nothing but fury," Khadijah explained. Iman watched as Khadijah's smile faded and turned into a frown. The teen rubbed her temples and whispered, "When she said she didn't even remember what happened that day or after that, I wanted to hurt her Mama. I was SO angry, so furious. How could she? How DARE she? How dare she forget when she was older than me? How dare she forget when we were nearly killed together? How DARE she forget when she can go home to her father and I can't BECAUSE of her father? I wanted to just kick her in her smug face."
Khadijah's voice cracked as the teen balled up her fists. Iman quickly took her daughter I her arms and whispered, "It's okay, Shehzadi. It's okay to share how you feel. You KNOW we would never judge you for thinking this way."
Mehak stood up and sat down on the other side of Khadijah before gently touching the young teen's face. Khadijah looked at her aunt and gnawed on her bottom lip. There was conflict on her face even though the adults reassured her that everything she felt was normal.
"You know I knew your father for a long time before you were born," Mehak began and smiled as she thought of her brother-in-law, "and I feel like I've told you every story I know about him. He is a man of principle. In all my years of knowing him, he never retaliated towards his siblings for the amount of things they put him through. Like I've said before, I never noticed the way they ostracized him, for merely being the youngest. It was as if he were a nuisance. I digress. There were times where he was so angry at his siblings, but he'd leave the house for a walk or head out with Ahmed to clear his head."
"I can't exactly leave school, Aunt Mehak," Khadijah sighed.
"My point is, young padawan, that even your calm and collected father lost his cool once. My ex-husband pulled something very scummy on your father and well, Dawood beat him within an inch of his life. That was the first and only time I had seen Dawood lose his cool. Being angry is part of life, but it shouldn't consume you. Don't let your anger reach a breaing point. Don't let them get the best of you," Mehak whispered before patting Khadijah's cheek.
"I guess. Thanks, Aunt Mehak. Mama, I'm heading up," Khadijah explained before giving Iman's cheek a kiss and heading towards her room.
"That didn't ease her, did it?" Mehak sighed.
"I don't think anything will. I mean what were the odds that the one family she dislikes the most in the world would come back into her life at her new school? Did I make the right decision, Mehak? Should we pull her out of school?" Iman asked while rubbing her temples. Her daughter had taken everything in stride but Iman couldn't help but feel guilty. All she wanted was for her daughter to be able to integrate back into society, but how would that be possible if that same society held her child responsible for the attack that ruined their lives?
"Don't second guess yourself, Iman. I know how many sleepless nights you went through when you first considered sending Khadijah to public school," Mehak shook her head and placed and arm around Iman's shoulders. "You did the best with the cards you were dealt with. Most people wouldn't have made it this far."
"I had great help," Iman smiled with a nod and patted Mehak's hand gently. She knew exactly how important a support network was, especially when it seemed that you were all alone in this world.
*****
Athena hauled her backpack off the ground and glanced at the man who was staring at her. He always wore a hooded cap that hid the malevolence she had seen many times in his eyes. He was a known drug pusher who preyed upon runaway teens. He had initially approached her as a "concerned adult" trying to help her back home. She was lucky that a few other homeless women helped her out, warning her in advance not to even glance towards the shady guy.
"Hey, you alright?" The man called out.
"Fine. Like the sixteen other times you asked," Athena brushed him off. After hundreds of miles of travel away from the city that housed her father, she couldn't seem to shake scummy guys.
"Derrik, you leave that girl alone," an elderly man growled as he poked his head out from inside his tent. Tents seemed to surround them on all sides, making a very tight knit tent city of sorts. Athena had been lucky to find the close knit tent city near one of the city's main bridges. There were a few shady individuals who prowled the streets looking for easy targets like runaway teens, but she was neither an easy target, nor a runaway.
"I wasn't doing anything to her. Just asking how she's doing," Derrik snarled while looking at the geriatric gentleman.
"She's got enough people taking care of her, Derrik. Move along," another elderly woman growled while approaching the tall man. Derrik scowled but made himself scarce once he realized that a lot more members of the community were now heading his way. The elderly woman now glanced at Athena and called out, "You alright, Jaz?"
"Yeah, thanks Ms. Denmark," Athena nodded. She had used the first fake name that popped up in her mind, which just happened to be Jasmine, when she had settled into the community. The name stuck and now she was fondly called "Jaz" by some of the residents. Denmark was one of the first women who approached Athena when she found the teen huddled near the bridge trying to cover herself with her tattered jacket. She offered Athena clothes, a meal, and a small tent, but Athena was naturally distrustful. She wanted to know what the woman wanted in return. The elderly woman had said that she just wanted Athena safe. After cautiously agreeing to the help offered, she realized that Denmark had no ulterior motives, a rare act of kindness in a world that had been nothing but cruel to her.
"Did you eat something, sweetheart?" Denmark asked as she brushed back her once silky hair. Denmark didn't seem like she belonged in the community. She was of average build, East Asian descent, had vast knowledge of electrical work and always seemed immaculate. The woman was a stickler for hygiene even though she lived under a bridge. To Athena, Denmark was the glue that held the camp together.
"Yes, ma'am. I still have some protein bars we took from the soup kitchen," Athena nodded.
"Good. Now you did all your work, right?" Denmark asked while patting Athena on her back.
"Yes, ma'am," Athena nodded. Denmark had gotten her into a GED program and she was only a few weeks away from completing her degree even though she had multiple issues stacked against her.
Athena began to head out of the community but was pulled to the side by Denmark. Athena looked at the camp's matriarch in surprise and asked, "What's wrong, Ms. Denmark?"
"Make sure you check your mail before heading to class. I heard the owners are due back sometime this week," Denmark explained to Athena.
Athena nodded and waved to Denmark before heading down the road. Since she had no permanent address, she was having an issue giving an address to the school she was attending. She had cased many neighborhoods over the course of a few weeks and found a few houses that seemed empty. After thoroughly investigating the properties, she found one which was used as a vacation home by the owners. This was perfect for Athena since she could use the address as a dummy of sorts and collect mail before the owners returned.
She headed to a nearby public restroom and pulled out a change of clothes that she managed to to get from a nearby clothing drive. There was a time where she had private wardrobes that housed her couture clothing and now she had literally three pairs of clothes that she cycled through. After brushing her teeth and taking an impromptu shower via the sink, she headed out to the neighborhood with her temporary mailbox.
She hopped the fence to the property and made her way to the front as she had thousands of times before. The flag on the mailbox was down so she knew the mailman had stopped by sometime during her previous visit. She yawned and pulled out a protein bar from her backpack before taking a bite out of the bar and opening the mailbox. She had quite few letters addressed to her and a few generic letters addressed to generic "owners." Before she could place her mail into her bag, she felt something poke her back.
"Put your hands up slowly or I'll blow your head off," a man with a thick accent growled from behind Athena. She shakily put her hands up and tried to say something but realized that her throat seemed to have swollen shut.
"Turn around," the man ordered to which Athena complied. She turned around slowly and came fact-to-face with a double barrel shotgun and an elderly man that looked to be of Middle-Eastern or Hispanic descent. He frowned, showing wrinkles at his forehead, the corners of his eyes, and the corners of his lips. He was balding, but had attempted to hide this fact by his combover. His mustache was littered with gray hairs and was large and bushy enough to cover his upper lip. His eyes were a dark brown and showed an immense anger that Athena could only imagine was her fault.
"Now, who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing rifling through my mail?" The man growled while cocking his gun.