Recap of last chapter: the first day of school from Hamza's point of view. He and his best friend Christian talk about colleges and Hamza reveals he doesn't want to stay in Florida although his parents want him to.
One Day
Hamza Musa-Ali
Gym class is my stress reliever. It’s where I allow myself to think about last night. After dropping Christian off at his house, I headed home with the groceries. I then drove back to school to pick up Hussain. After we got home, I started dinner and got Hussain to set the damn table and Hidayah to help me by making a salad. Mom and Dad filed in at around nine, an hour after everything was done cooking, and washed up for dinner.
We finally all sat down to eat. It’s a rare occurrence. I was actually somewhat optimistic about it…until Dad’s cell phone rang. Ten minutes later, Mom’s rang. By the time they hung up, Hidayah, Hussain and I were finished eating and about to go do homework. They made us stay and talk to them, and the conversation frankly pissed me off. “Do you know who was on the phone?” Dad had asked me proudly.
I shrugged to show that I really didn’t care. I just wanted to go to my room and do whatever I wanted to do. “It was Mr. Eubanks. He has high hopes for our company. He was pleasantly surprised that you’re a senior. He didn’t expect you to be this old. Think about it, within five years you’ll be managing our company.”
My parents own the largest landscaping business in central Florida. Networking and making connections is part of their job to expand their company, and Mr. Eubanks is another one of those rich, white dudes that sits on his ass and makes a bunch of money off of the poor mutherfuckers who work at shit low wages. I’ve met some of them when my parents dragged us to work with them or to Eubanks’ office, and it’s disgusting how the people working under these huge companies have to live. Hence why I’ll never inherit the business.
That was all that was going through my head the minute Dad said Eubanks. Disgust coated my voice when I said, “I’m sure he’s happy I’m older than he expected.” So that he can condition me to act like a fucking puppet who does whatever the fuck he wants me to do so that he can merge part of my parents’ company with his own, some aspect of it. I’d rather die than be the talking and walking robot people expect me to be.
Dad just kept going on and on about the business and that got me even more pissed. “Can we not talk about the company for once? Hell, when’s the next time we’re going to have dinner together? My birthday?” Sarcasm was so thick in my voice that Hidayah and Hussain froze, knowing I’d pushed it.
“Hamza, that is enough of your disrespect.” Mom’s hissing voice was so sharp that if I wasn’t pissed off, I would be running like crazy for my life.
“It’s not fucking disrespect, it’s the goddamn truth. Sorry if it sucks for you guys to realize that we never have family time and that when we are talking, it’s always about how I’m going to inherit the stupid company…a stupid company I don’t even WANT!” I ended up yelling the last part and heading up to my room.
And I haven’t let myself think about it till now, fourth period gym class. “Musa-Ali, pass the damn ball!” Caleb looks pissed as I zone out and then snap back in with it. I pass him the ball and he goes and makes a layup. He still glares at me as we head into the locker room. He shoves me and I’m about to retaliate until Christian holds me back.
“Goddamn it, Hamza, can’t you just chill for a few minutes? I’m tired of always saving your ass.” He looks pissed. I sigh and say I’m sorry and head to the showers, even though no amount of hot water is going to wash away how fucked up my life is.
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
The Art of Breaking Her
रोमांसHamza's complementary perspective to Battered, With Love.
