Path of Jen: Bloodborne (2 page)

Jen’s father was more traditional than her
mother. He was less critical of Islamic Law and still practiced
their faith, although only as often as his hectic schedule allowed.
He was a loving and patient father and loving husband, but Jen knew
he had trouble reconciling his faith with the liberal and tolerant
culture they were living in. Discussions about her future were the
times his frustration was most apparent. Mother wished her to go to
college and to pursue as much in life as she could dream of. Her
father wanted Jen to find a husband, a Muslim husband, and learn to
be a devoted wife. Even so, he showered her with popular American
gifts and let her listen to American pop music. Jen often thought
that if her dad’s Muslim faith were described in terms of being a
vegetarian, he would be semi-veg at best.

Jen’s best friend, Sarah, teased her about it
all of the time. Sarah would point out a cute boy at school or at
the mall and say, “Ooh, there’s one Jen! Oh wait. I’m sorry; he’s
not going to
pass the mustard:
definitely not a Muslim."
They would both sigh and pretend to be sad and solemn for a second.
Then they would break out giggling. Sarah and Jen had been best
friends since the first day of second grade when they sat next to
each other on the swings at recess. Jen wished Sarah, or even her
mom was going along on this trip. A whole week with her dad in a
foreign country, visiting family she had never met, seemed like an
eternity. At least she had her iPhone. With that thought, she
patted the back pocket in her American-Eagle jeans to make sure it
was there.

“Oh crap!” she said aloud. Dropping the
handle to her luggage, Jen hurried to her nightstand and unplugged
her phone charger.
“That was close,”
she thought as she
wound the cord around the block and shoved them in her jacket
pocket. She sighed and tried to relax, but she was a bundle of
energy.

“Jena!” she heard her father yell from
outside.

“Coming!” Jen yelled in return. She took hold
of the luggage handle again and rolled the piggy-backed suitcases
behind her to the top of the stairs. Instead of carrying them down
or pulling them down the stairs behind her, Jen unstacked them,
collapsed the handle on the big one, and slid them down the
carpeted stairs one at a time. The hard plastic suitcases slid down
dangerously fast and skidded to a stop at the bottom. “Yes!” she
said with arms raised in victory.

Jen raced down after them and scooped them up
by the carrying handles on the side, one in each hand. She leaned
away from the big one for balance as she struggled through the
front door and out to the car. Her dad took them from her and
loaded them carefully into the back with his own mismatched and
well-used luggage.

“Give your mom a hug so we can go,” he said
as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

Her mother smiled warmly as Jen skipped over
to her and gave her a big hug. “I love you, mom." Then leaning her
head back she looked at her mom and added, “
I
don
’t understand why you can’t just drop us off at the
airport."

Her mom sighed and glanced toward Jen’s
father. She ignored the question rather than re-start the argument.
“Happy birthday, Little Bird,” she said as she hugged her only
daughter. Little Bird, the meaning of Jena in Farsi, was her
mother’s nick-name for her since she was a baby. Taking Jen’s face
in her hands she looked her in the eye and said, “Enjoy this trip
Jen. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to experience a
completely different world." Then after another quick glance at
Jen’s father, she quietly said, “Be very careful and stay near your
father, always."

Looking puzzled, Jen answered, “Okay mom, I
love you! Bye!" She blew her mom a kiss and ran around the back of
the jeep to get in the other side.

Seconds later Jen and her father were on the
road and headed for the Dallas airport. The buzzing energy she felt
moments before dissipated as her father’s quiet demeanor set the
tone for the ride. When Jen was younger her father had been fun and
loved to play with her. Now that she was a teenager, he always
seemed to be frowning. Even when he had time for her it was a
different kind of relationship.
“Maybe he’s disappointed they
never had a son?"
Jen put her red Skull Candy earbuds in and
hit shuffle on her favorite playlist. “It Ends Tonight” by the All
American Rejects filled her head with sound and she leaned the seat
back and closed her eyes.

An hour later Jen stood next to her father as
the TSA agent posted at the entrance to the security screening
looked at their passports. She was a slender black woman with
stylishly cropped hair and manicured French Tips. Her uniform was
nearly as flawless as her skin, and Jen thought she would be
beautiful if she would just smile. She couldn’t help staring at
her. McNair was the name on her identification tag. “Line two,”
officer McNair said flatly, handing the passports and boarding
passes back to Jen’s Father. She turned and waved a hand at another
agent in the screening area and held up two fingers.

Jen followed her dad through the tiny gate
and into the line for screening lane number two. It was the line
for the body scan machine. Looking back toward the entrance, Jen
saw officer McNair smiling and making small talk with the white
couple who were next at her podium.
“Awesome,”
she thought
sarcastically. Her dad saw her looking and simply nodded in
understanding.

A little while later Jen was sitting next to
her father at the Lufthansa departure gate, sipping on a chai tea
latte and playing “Trivia Crack” on her iPhone with Sarah. While
she waited for her next turn she looked around the terminal. Two
women in opaque black burqas stood near the check-in counter with a
young girl of perhaps five standing between them and dressed in a
cute, pink summer dress and pink sandals. The stark contrast made
Jen wonder.
“Why would anyone choose to be hidden under a cloak
like that?"
It seemed like once a girl became a woman she
stopped being a person.

Jen’s mom and dad had talked to her about
expectations once she arrived in Tehran. She had a silk hijab, a
headscarf, in her carry-on that she was to wear once they landed.
She also brought tops that were longer than she was used to. Her
father said jeans were okay, but her shirt must cover to mid-thigh.
At first she was afraid she would have to wear a burqa, but her
mother assured her a scarf was the worst she would have to
tolerate. “It’s not so much to cover you up and hide you Jen. In
fact, it is considered quite stylish,” her mother said. “It’s just
to fit in. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself over
there." Her father added, “It is simply showing respect for our
culture and heritage." Jen nodded understanding, but couldn’t help
feeling disassociated from the idea that it was her culture. Her
culture was right here in Dallas. It was Snap Chat and selfies, not
head scarves or burqas. “Fine. I’ll wear the scarf,” she said.
“But I think it’s stupid,”
she thought.

Sitting at the next gate over was a handsome
Persian man in designer blue jeans, black leather shoes, and a
tailored white button down shirt. He sat back in his seat with his
legs crossed like an old fashioned movie star. His sleeves were
casually rolled to just above his wrists. Jen imagined he was a
famous athlete or a billionaire playboy. She tried to look at him
without making it obvious that she was staring.

“Stop staring, Jena,” said her dad
quietly.

“I wasn’t staring!” she hissed. She nearly
spilled her drink as she re-situated to face the other direction.
She glared at her father, ready to defend herself further when she
noticed he was smirking. “Dad!” she said, embarrassed. “It’s not
funny!”

“Just finish your drink,” he said warmly. We
will board soon." He placed his arm behind her on the back of her
chair. Jen considered leaning against him for a brief moment. She
had caught a glimpse of the dad she remembered from her childhood,
and almost let herself miss him again. One more look at his face
was enough to dissuade her from that notion. The warmth and coyness
was gone. He was once again the stoic father of her teenage
existence.

When the aircraft left the runway and began
its steep ascent, Jen felt exhilaration. She giggled out loud,
although she was certain no one could hear her above the powerful
jet engines propelling them like a rocket into the sky. Outwardly
her father looked calm, but his eyes were closed and Jen could see
that he was gripping the armrests tightly.
“What is there to be
afraid of?”
she wanted to ask.
“You fly all the time! Aren’t
you used to it?"
Instead, she turned back to the window to
watch the earth retreating below, and enjoyed the rush of flying
for the first time.

Twelve hours later they were on the ground
again. Jen sat at their new departure gate a row over from her
father who was reading some kind of business report he’d brought
with him. She was sitting sideways with her feet over the armrest
talking with her best friend, Sarah. “I’
m in
Vienna!
” Jen said excitedly into the phone. “I know! I mean
I’m only in the airport, but it’
s still so
cool!
" She giggled and with an exaggerated British accent
said, “I’m so very sophisticated dahling." They talked and giggled
for a few more minutes and then Jen said, “
Sarah, we
’ll be boarding soon and I promised to call
my mom, so…." She smiled at Sarah’s response and said, “I will.
Love you, too. Bye!”

Jen opened her recent call list and selected
“Mom” from near the top. Glancing at the battery icon she noticed
it was nearly depleted. “Great,” she said as she put the phone to
her ear and pulled the charging block and cord from her jacket
pocket. Looking left and right, she saw an outlet in the base of a
nearby pillar. She swung her legs down in front of her and got up.
Still waiting for the call to connect, she plopped down in the seat
next to the pillar and reached down only half looking at the
outlet. The phone started to ring. After several unsuccessful
attempts to plug it in, she looked down in frustration. “What the
hell?”

“Excuse me?” said her mother’s voice.

Simultaneously cringing and looking
immediately to make sure her father was still seated where he had
been Jen said, “
Mom! Oh geez! I
’m sorry!
Some jerk put a sticker on the wall that looks like an outlet and
I’ve been trying to plug into it for like five minutes." She waved
her hands as she spoke as if her mom could see it.

Her mom laughed briefly and then said, “I
understand your frustration, but that is pretty funny!" Then she
asked, “How are things going with your dad? Are you two getting
along?”

Jen sat back and crossed her arms as she
spoke. “Yeah, things are going okay. He’s not really interested in
talking or doing anything, but he’s being nice. We’re in Vienna
right now. Mom, I only have a few minutes until boarding…should I
put on my hijab and tunic now?"

“You probably should Jena. There could be
people on the plane that would try to cause your father trouble
later if you wait until you land. It is against the law to go
uncovered once you get to Iran, so it’s best to get used to it now
if you can."

Jen sighed and looked over at her carry-on,
still sitting next to the seat she was just in. “Hey!" There was
somebody looking in her bag. “Hey! That’s mine!” she shouted. The
teenage boy looking through her bag ignored her.

“Jena?” her mom asked.

Jen dropped her phone and charger on the seat
and rushed over to her bag. The boy left the bag and ran off just
before she got there. She quickly looked through her bag. Nothing
seemed to be missing. Her dad hurried over and asked if she was
okay. “I’
m fine dad,
” she said through
adrenalin jitters as she unpacked and re-packed her bag. “Mom!” she
said remembering the phone call.

Picking her bag up she turned to retrieve her
phone…and it was gone. “No!” she said in defeat. “Dad, they got my
phone!" Just then the boarding announcement was made and Jen felt
like crying. Her father squeezed her arm and walked to the podium.
He briefly spoke to the flight attendant, an Iranian woman, in
Farsi. She nodded and looked sympathetic as she said something
back, but Jen couldn’t understand any of what was said. She waved
at a nearby security guard and he hurried over. He was obviously
Austrian, but spoke English quite well. He seemed serious as Jen’s
father spoke to him in English. Her dad gestured to Jen a few times
as he spoke and showed the guard his own phone as an example of
what was taken. After the guard said a few words, her father wrote
some information on the back of his business report and handed it
to the guard. The guard nodded and walked back to where he had been
standing. He keyed the mic on his radio and seemed to read what
Jen’s father had written into it. He glanced at them and nodded
once at Jen’s father. Then he turned his back on them.

“What happened?” Jen asked her dad.

“Not much Jena,” he said with a disappointed
look. “They took my contact info and said we would get a call if
they find it. Why can’t you be more careful Jena? That was a very
expensive phone.”

“This is my fault?” Jena asked incredulously.
“Really? That’s so unfair!”

Her father sighed and looked up briefly.
“Jena, I did not mean it that way. Just…please stay close to me
from now on." He looked her in the eyes and placed his hands on her
shoulders. “The criminals who do these things are less likely to
try when you are near me, okay?"

She was still angry at her dad, but even
more-so at herself. She said, “Fine. Can we go now?"

They walked together to the podium and were
checked through the door. Jen pulled the hijab out of her bag and
looped it around her head as they walked down the jet-way. They
stopped when they reached the line of passengers ahead of them. “Is
it okay if I wait until we get in the air to put on the tunic?” she
asked her dad.