In a few weeks, I’ll be alone again.
elise
The next morning, I return from the beach to a cottage that smells of strong coffee. I check the pot in the kitchen—fresh, still hot. Nick’s malformed mug is sitting out, a spoonful of sugar waiting in its bottom.
Mom must not be hating me today. Of course, I haven’t said anything about Mati since our argument on the sidewalk. As far as she knows, I’ve listened to her oh-so-sage advice and ended my friendship with him.
I can’t fathom a world in which such a thing would actually happen.
I fill my mug with coffee and head to the library, Bambi trailing behind me. Mom’s working, her fingers flying over her keyboard, tap-tap-tapping out a novel that I’m sure will send many a middle-aged woman into fits of pleasure. The small TV in the corner is on, tuned to Fox News, set to mute. I fall into my regular chair, Bambi takes to her bed, and Mom saves her file.
She spins around to face me. “How’s the coffee?”
“Good, thanks. How’s the work?”
“Rough.” She glances over her shoulder at the calendar that’s tacked to the wall to the left of her desk. Her deadline looms three weeks from now, the day after Ryan and Mati leave Cypress Beach. “I think I’ll make it, though.”
“You will,” I say, modeling supportive behavior, hoping she absorbs it.
She picks up the newspaper on her desk. “I read a frightening article this morning.”
“About what?”
“Muslims. The threat they present.”
I roll my eyes but resist the urge to pop out of my chair and walk out of the room. “God, Mom. We’re doing this again?”
“I think you should read the article.”
“Why? Mati’s not a threat. Anyone who knows him understands as much.” I think of the day he poured sand into my hands and explained about the Afghans, the Muslims, who live kindly, humbly. I recall the tiny pinch of sand that represented those who do not. “Muslims aren’t a threat, either,” I continue, “and it’s dangerous to generalize.” I point at Bambi, curled up on her bed, paws twitching as she dreams. “It’s like saying dogs are a killer species just because they all have sharp teeth.”
Mom’s gaze is level, unaffected. “They’re planning to target military families. Dependents of soldiers, active-dutyandkilled-in-action.”
This… gives me pause.
Dependents.
Audrey and Janie.
I set my coffee mug on the table, my pulse ratcheting in a way that makes my grip untrustworthy. “Really?”
She waves the newspaper. “It’s all here. There’ve been anonymous letters sent to different media outlets around the country.”
I make no move to take the paper she’s still holding out. I’m curious—I can’t deny that I am—but I won’t give her the satisfaction.“You can’t actually think Mati is involved in making violent threats. I have never in my life met a more peaceful person.”
“What about his family? Their arrival in America, the timing of it all. You have to admit—it’s very coincidental.”
“His father is sick!”
“You don’t know for sure.”
Yes, I do. I met the man, saw his sallow skin, heard his ramshackle cough, smelled illness coursing through his blood. More than that, I sensed his tranquility, and was on the receiving end of his warmth. Rasoul is not an Islamic extremist.
“Elise, I know you prefer to think the best of people, and that’s one of your finest qualities. But I think, in this case, your friendship with this boy is more than you’re capable of managing. You don’t have the perspective to see past twinkling eyes, a chiseled jaw, and a charming smile.”
“Thanks, Mom. I’m happy to know you think I’m a moron who’s ready and willing to tangle with a terrorist just because he’s good-looking.”
She stands, crosses the room, and lays the newspaper on my lap. “He’s here for, what? A few more weeks? Is he so important that you’re willing to create a divide within our family? Haven’t we been through enough?”
