A few hours later...
Normally when school is finished for the day, kids would race out of the classrooms as if their lives depend on it but not me. As torturing as is, I'd rather stay in school than go home. Why? Do you ask. Well, let's see...my dear parents are going through a nasty divorce and of course I'm in the middle of it. Not by choice; honestly I don't have a choice at all. Even if I did, I believe my parents are better off apart. They never got along. They hoped that somehow bringing a child into their loveless marriage can make them 'connect.' Whatever that means.
Standing outside of the front gates to my house, I sent a little prayer up to God that today they wouldn't be arguing. That today I would finally have what everyone else considers as a boring family. You know where you sit around the dinner table and chat about how your day was. A happy family or what could pass for one.
Sighing heavily I opened the gate and walked up the path that leads to the house. Not wanting to get caught, I removed my headphones and iPod and put them away. The last thing I needed was to get nabbed with these 'evil gadgets' as my father would call them. He has a strong belief that as a Muslim I should focus more on learning more about my faith than I do about such things as music, television, and etc. Generally, music is considered haram. Personally, I don't believe it to be so. Music is so inspiring, soothing, and empowering at times that I don't believe God would forbid it from his followers and I don't think he would encourage it either. I guess I got mixed feelings concerning this subject. All I know is that I feel a sense of comfort that I don't necessary get from my parents.
My father is the type of person who thrives on being well presented in front of his peers. Going against our faith usually ends up in me getting my butt wiped. Not a pleasant feeling and you can trust me on that. I always have to be extra careful with finding this gadget from him. My iPod is my guilty pleasure and without I would simply ceases to exist.
Walking up to the front steps of my house I pull the keys out of my book bag. I can already hear my parents go at it.
Gazing up to the sky once again today, I sarcastically say. "Thanks for listening." I open the door and step inside. I pause long enough to listen to what they're arguing about now.
"She's my daughter. I gave birth to her. She belongs to me!" I heard my mother yell.
"If you think I'm going to give up custody of my only daughter to you; then you've completely lost your mind." My father matches her tone.
Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. From the sounds of it, you'd think my parents are fighting one another to keep me. Right? Don't be fooled like I once was. I'll let you in on a little secret I discovered not long ago. They're constant fighting isn't because they love me so much and they can't live without me. They're fighting because they don't want the other to get more out of the divorce even if it killed them. You'd think that most arranged marriages would work like most experts said; I guess my parents didn't make the final cut. From what I've learned through numerous family members, my mother was forced into this marriage by her father. She never even gave my father a chance and he never tried to make her love him. No, all he did was shove his ambitions and beliefs down her throat that she couldn't take it anymore.
My mother hates me because I look more like my father which reminds her of her own hatred towards him. And my father hates me because I remind him of my mother's rebellious trait. Either way I can't possibly win.
I had heard enough. I slam the door hard enough to let them know that I'm home and of course they don't notice. I run upstairs to my bedroom and close the door behind me. I dump my bag on the floor next to my nightstand and take off my hijab. Straightening out my hair with my fingers I lay back on the bed wondering when the arguing is going to end so I can go downstairs and grab something to eat. After all, I did ditch school with Steven, missing lunch. I fell asleep thinking about how much fun we had.
"Wake up!!"
I came alter to my father standing by my bedside. From the look on his face, I knew I was in serious trouble for what I don't know yet.
"Explain yourself!" He said through clenched teeth.
I learned long time ago not to fuss up to things until I knew exactly what he knew first. And right now, I knew nothing of what he knew. The best course of action for this particular situation is to remain silent and let him tell me.
"The school called. Guess what they told me?" His face was inches away from mine that I was afraid to even breathe.
It took me awhile to realize why they would call him. Ditching school had been very eventful but it came with consequences. My father's wrath. Knowing what could possibly happen I didn't dare meet my father's eyes. He would see it as a sign of disrespect. And things would turn from bad to down right ugly. My heart beat heavily against my chest that I feared it would burst out.
"That my daughter..." He beat his index finger against his chest. "...raised her voice at her teacher and skipped school for the rest of the day. Where did you go?"
"I never left the school property." I rushed to say as if that makes what I did okay.
"You go to school to get an education not raise your voice at your teachers and skip school!" He kicked my book bag in anger causing everything to spill out.
It was very quiet in the room as we both stared at the one thing I tried to find from him. Fear crept through me like ice cold water causing me to shiver from head to toe. He knelt down to pick up my iPod when he stood back up he demanded. "Why do you have this?" His face pinched with fury and eyes lit with fire. I knew in my heart that things just turned from bad to down right ugly in just a matter of seconds.
"I...I...found it on my way home." I lied.
"You expect me to believe that!" His jet black hair was brushed back and full of gel, he literally looked like Brad Pitt from Killing Them Softly.
I remained silent knowing full well if I uttered a word I'd get the worst of it.
He reached for my waist length brunette hair grabbing a fist full; and he pulled me off the bed and slammed me against his chest. Lowering his lips against my ear, he whispered in a hushed angry tone. "Don't ever lie to me."
I managed to whimper a yes sir. He shoved me off of him forcing me to trip on my book bag just landing on the floor a few feet away. I watched him as he threw the iPod on the floor and repeatedly stomped on it until it was crashed into unfixable pieces. He then walks out of the room slamming the door shut behind him. Hands clenched into tight fists and cold tears steaming down my face I prayed that one he'll get what he deserves.
YOU ARE READING
Take a Chance
RomanceHow can something so wrong feel so right? Since the day I was born my entire life was planned out based on my gender. Being taught at an early age to be a great Muslim woman and a future wife is the way of life of most Muslim girls. An arranged mar...
