Wounded: Our Journey Home

Wounded- Chapter Thirty Four

Edited:

Published: Monday, November 23rd 2015 4:15 pm

Ayah:

          "Thank you."

           I grabbed my change from the cashier and made my way to the table with Aunt Fatima, my food in hand. When we first came down here, I didn't think it would be this crowded, but it is. It's sad how many sickly people are here. Then again, it's a hospital. What should I expect.

        "I can't stand this food," Aunt Fatima took a bite of her food, a look of disgust on her face. "I think it gets worse every time I come down here."

        "It can't be that bad," I said and picked up my fork, ready to try it. Aunt Fatima looked at me in amusement as I took a bite and scrunched my nose. "Okay, I was wrong."

        "Salaam."

        "Wasim," Aunt Fatima stood up to hug her son, then they both sat down at the table. "Where have you been? You said an hour."

        "I fell asleep during my studying," He told her sadly, and she nodded in understanding. He then turned to me. "I see you tried their version of food."

        "If you can call it that," I put my paper towel over it and cleared my throat. "When does he get out?"

       "Not until a few more days," Aunt Fatima told me. "It's normal for him to be here for at least a week or so, but when he's home...."

       "That's tough. I can't even imagine it."

      Aunt Fafima nodded, her voice low. "No one should."

      "I wanted you all to attend Jafar's birthday party tomorrow. I was hoping he would be able to come."

      "You really thought that he would come now out of all these years?" Wasim asked, and I shrugged.

       "I was hoping. I know it would mean a lot to Jafar even if he doesn't want to admit it. Is there any way they could release him early?"

      "I can talk to the doctor on call, but don't get your hopes up. He's sickly, and they rarely let anyone in his condition leave earlier than necessary."

       "Well," I smiled. "We will just have to try then."

-*-

          Jake: I don't know about him being on the team. His grades are low, detention is his best friend, and he's just not a good kid.

         Jafar: Jake, how many times have you been rebellious in your youth? It's nothing new. You can't tell me one kid on the team is just...perfect.

         Jake: In the type of town we live in, the pressure of playing certain people is pushed. I'm not scared of some nosey, annoying parents, but if I put neck on the line for him, he has to make an effort.

         And I know all too well about what he's talking about. In the town we live in, everything is expected to go a certain way. You're expecting to play certain kids in sports, run the school a certain way, and kiss those same decision makers butts for your betterment. I had to to witness this first hand when I was on the team, but Jake and a lot of others didn't. He was the principal and the coaches son, his spot was reserved. The only reason why I played was because I proved my skills and stayed out of trouble. Mu'adh is a whole different story.

          Jafar: Why can't we just give him a chance? He's good. Let him prove it the same way I did.

         Jake: You want to be responsible for his screw ups if we put him on the team?