Safiah's Smile (4 page)

“Sam,” her mother began, breaking the
painfully tangible silence. “Your father and I think that this is
just another one of your attempts to slack from your studies.” She
glanced at her husband for some inkling of support. He returned her
glance with an uncomfortable stare. With his silence, she
continued. “You cannot
join the army
just to evade college,
Samuel.”

“Mom, this isn’t about my relaxed attitude
towards school and… and my unwillingness to wake up at seven in the
morning on weekdays. This is something more,” he pressed. He swiped
the cap from his head and fiddled it in his hands. After
straightening out his muffled head of hair, he seated himself
upright.

“Joining the army is an incredibly serious
thing. I don’t think you are prepared to make that kind of
commitment,” his mother persisted.

“Well I do.” Malia stepped from the
staircase and stood boldly before her family. Rolling the sleeves
of her thick cotton sweater to her elbows, she defended her
brother’s maturity before her skeptical parents.

Confusion marked her brother’s face. “Malia?
But, I thought….”

“Sam, I’ve never seen you so determined.”
She seated herself beside him and sank into the cushion with ease.
Noticing a cluster of dust lying by her hands, she softly brushed
it to the side. She eyed her chipped fingernail polish with disdain
and, suddenly swept with a rush of cold, enclosed her hands in the
sleeves of her sweater.

“If this is what you really want,” she
started. She met her brother’s eyes. Snippets of memories from
their childhood – running madly through the snow without a care in
the world, riding the merry-go-round at the state fair until they
both went sickeningly dizzy, and competing against each other to
see who could snatch the most leaves falling rapidly from the oak
in their backyard – flashed fleetingly in her mind. “Then,” she
continued, “then, I have to support you. And Mom and Dad,” she
rotated to face her parents, “I think you should, too.” She brushed
the bangs from her eyes. After giving her brother a meaningful
smile, she mouthed
I’m sorry
in earnest sentiment and exited
the room.

Though terrified for her brother’s fate,
Malia could not protect him from the world. She could no longer
shield herself from the outside to prevent loss and heartbreak. Her
brother was undertaking an admirable responsibility, she realized,
and he would need her support to succeed. They had been sheltered
in the realm of high school and luxury for far too long, she
thought. She only wondered how she would find her own identity, and
she secretly coveted her brother for his strong resolve in becoming
a soldier.

A yellowed copy of
Crime and
Punishment
was lying meekly on her empty bookshelf when she
reached her room. With a sigh, she slid it from the shelf and
perused its lengthy pages – nearly six-hundred of them – in search
for guidance from the great Dostoyevsky. She recalled writing a
report on the classic Russian novel in the ninth grade; she had
been partnered with Chelsea Donnohu, and the paper received a B-.
For weeks she had contemplated her teacher’s criticism that the
paper lacked dimension and profound thought. Now, however, she
finally understood.

The true theme of the novel was healing and
self-discovery and about the immeasurable value of life both at its
worst and at its best. That sometimes, to experience true joy, you
must first experience great grief and suffering. Finally, she
located the passage she had tirelessly been searching for:

Where is it I’ve read that someone condemned
to death says or thinks, an hour before his death, that… if he had
to remain standing on a square yard of space all his life… [for]
eternity, it were better to live so than to die at once! Only to
live, to live and live! Life, whatever it may be!

“Life whatever it may be,” she whispered.
These words had always been a graceful river to Malia – admirable
from a distance and superficially spectacular. Nonetheless, Malia
had never read beyond the surface. With life’s sudden waves slowly
sinking her to the depths of the ocean, she now clutched to them
dearly.

Snatching her cell phone from its place in
the left-hand pocket of her olive khaki pants, she urgently dialed
Danny’s number.

“Hey, this is Danny.”

“Danny, I’m so glad I….”

“You’ve reached me at 765-845-9966. Please
leave a message, and I’ll get back to you when I can.”

“I talked to Beth today,” she began after
the beep sounded. Tears cascaded down her cheeks, and her uneven
voice cracked. “She said she’s really proud of you guys for what
you’re doing.” She breathed heavily and wiped her cheeks with a
Kleenex. “She said that it’s because of people like you and Sam
that… that.” She paused. She did not foresee this much difficulty
in delivering a simple message. “That we can bring her mom justice.
And bring justice to every other innocent person who died that
day.” She finally regained her composure, muttered a goodbye, and
returned the phone to her left-hand pocket.

The remaining months of Malia’s senior year
of high school passed abnormally quickly. Before she knew it, high
school had ended. Graduation had passed, and Malia, along with the
seventy-four other members of the James Madison senior class were
no longer simply high school students but adult members of
society.

The beams of sunshine that had blinded Malia
from the world had inevitably evaporated. In their place, grew a
dark abyss of confusion and emptiness – a typical post-graduate’s
despair intermingled with the pain of the times.

At graduation, Malia nonetheless recalled
Dostoyevsky and his wise words, and through Beth’s strength, she
found her own. Every eye in the oversized auditorium gazed intently
upon her as she approached the podium attired in her navy blue gown
and graduation cap, her golden tassel casually swung to the side.
Her eyes scanned the room – her parents who had sacrificed so much
to ensure her success and happiness and her teachers who had shared
their invaluable guidance with her. She smiled at Mr. Matthews and
began.

“We are here today to celebrate,” she began.
“Today, we celebrate us, our teachers, and all of those who have
helped to reach this point in our lives. For twelve long years we
have fought all the odds against us and approached all of our
obstacles with courage. We have worked tirelessly so we can come
here today, on this blazing June afternoon, and receive a little,
folded up piece of paper with our names on it.

“But this is not just any piece of paper.
This is our key to the future, our key to the rest of our lives.”
She looked at her parents. Her mother, of course, had a digital
camera in one hand and a Kleenex in the other, most likely
anticipating an emotional conclusion to Malia’s speech. “But, in
truth, it is not the key or the piece of paper that matters. What
matters is what we choose to do with our diplomas, how we use what
we learned here at James Madison High to better the world and to
follow our dreams.

“Some of us may dream to play professional
basketball and become role models for young children all around the
world,” she glanced at Jake and Jordan. “Some of us my dream to
save a life someday.” She looked at Chelsea and grinned. “And some
of us,” she continued, “may dream to save the world.” She looked at
Sam and Danny. “To serve our country. No matter how unrealistic
your aspirations may seem, always treasure what you learned here in
high school. In a high school where the highest goals any of us
have ever set were… were to become popular or to get into an Ivy
League college. Out there,” she pointed to the window, “we can
truly reach for anything.

“So, take this diploma,” she held hers high
in her hand for the audience to see, “and carry it with you as a
reminder of what you can accomplish. But, more importantly, always
carry with you courage and determination.

“Recently, someone very close to me taught
me an important lesson,” she looked at Sam. “He taught me that the
most important goals in life are those that seem the most daunting.
The most impractical. But, I’ve learned that no obstacle, no fear
is ever too great to overcome. The only thing that can possibly
hold you back is yourself.

“My fellow seniors,” she looked at her
classmates, “This past year has been one of the most trying years
of our entire lives. We are watching as our country and the rest of
the world is slowly falling apart. But
we
are the future. We
grew up together, we laughed together, and we cried together. And
now, on our own, but together in spirit, we’ll change the world
together.”

A thunderous applause roared in Malia’s
ears, and she clung to it desperately. She clung to the sound of
her peers and to the reassurance of the crowd that almost made her
words believable, established them as truths.

“Malia!” Danny called. “I wanted to say
goodbye,” he appeared from behind, as crowds of people thrust
through the swarming halls and shoved her from side to side. Proud
parents took photographs of their beaming children. Graduates
smiled in various poses with various relatives as Malia stood with
Danny, saying their farewells, in the center of the uproar.

“When?” she shouted above the deafening
tumult.

“Tomorrow.” There was pain in his eyes. She
didn’t want to believe it. She just wanted to get it over with, to
make it end, to make the pain end. She couldn’t take any more
goodbyes.

“Danny, promise me something.” Her brother
would come later. Now, she just needed to tell him. To make sure.
“Promise me you’ll be careful out there. Promise me you’ll come
back, and promise me that you’ll make sure my brother comes back
too.” His promises were no guarantee, she realized, but she
desperately needed to hear his reassurance. She knew that it was
his reassurance that would get her through the coming months.

He strained to hear her words. He strained
with astonishing intensity, holding on to each word as if they were
here last.

“I promise,” he vowed with incredible
sincerity. His face was somber. They swiftly said their goodbyes,
and in seconds he was gone.

Minutes later, the crowd consumed Malia, and
she disappeared.

She watched Danny fade into the hurried
swarm of parents, siblings, and graduates. Sam was by his side.
Two children
, she thought,
two children off to fight a
battle as men
.

In the coming months, Malia would
frantically piece together the memories of her last day of high
school in her mind. But, mostly, she would cling to the notion that
after the storm always appears a rainbow. So she patiently waited
for her rainbow with faith and with hope.

Malia stumbled to the rear of the local
library and huddled in the dusty corner with a weighty book on the
history of the United States. She trembled at the photographs of
soldiers. Some in lively poses with a burning vivacity visible in
their pink cheeks and some fallen. Intermingled with the yellow
grass and muddy water. Fallen heroes.

Two months from now Malia’s parents would
place all of her beloved possessions in a brown suitcase and haul
the heavy load to the St. Louis campus where she would inevitably
spend the next four years of her life. Four years. An eternity. Her
mind turned numb at the mere thought of it. How could she spend
four years at college when one day in Indiana lasted decades?

The grey sky and four white walls of her
bedroom felt like a prison. Malia needed to escape, she knew. She
needed to breathe, to once again inhale the sweet scent of oxygen
and to live unshackled by the chains of her agony. It had been two
endless months since her brother and his best friend had departed
for the war. And, somehow, Malia was ready to accept it.
Don’t
waste time, Malia.
Her brother had warned several days before
he packed his bags and boarded the local shuttle.
Don’t dwell in
the past. And, please, whatever you do, don’t kill yourself over
this. Don’t kill yourself over me. I’m not worth it.
He smiled,
trying to alleviate the anxiety of the moment with levity.
Everything that’s happened this year… with Beth… that should
have taught you at least that.
Taking one last look at her
neighborhood – at her home for the past seventeen years – she
breathed heavily, lifted her luggage with both fists, and entered
the passenger seat of her father’s Toyota.

–
Chapter 4 –

Come September, Malia entered Washington
University with an odd combination of indifference and enthusiasm.
Fully prepared with a fresh set of college attire – Washington
University baseball caps, pajamas, and track jackets – she viewed
the four-year path ahead of her as a means of freedom – freedom
from her past.

For weeks she aimed fruitlessly to liberate
herself from the haunting memories of her last months of high
school, but the luscious greenery of the campus and the fresh,
grinning faces of her new college classmates planted within Malia a
new hope. A hope that she would finally find joy and forget the
frets of a world slowly disintegrating with the horrors of war.

Nonetheless, within the depths of Malia’s
soul, still lay a vacancy. An agonizing emptiness and anxiety. A
constant fret for her brother’s safety. For Danny’s safety.

Meanwhile, she still mechanically attended
her classes and participated in far too many student activities in
a weak attempt to fill the void her painful past left behind.
Always in awe of the actors she saw in the theater, Malia almost
immediately signed up for the drama club’s rendition of
The
Importance of Being Earnest
. Gwendolyn seemed like a cheery
enough character, she thought. Cheery enough, hopefully, to scatter
the horrid spells of anxiety that infected her mind every now and
then. In truth, she knew, every other minute.