Amaly - My Hope

"I'm about to head out to work, Mama!"  I grab my bag and sling it over my right shoulder.  I go into the kitchen to find my mom sitting at the small round table reading the morning paper.  "Anything interesting?" I ask her, browsing for breakfast in our small refrigerator.
    "Hmm-- Good interesting?  Or bad interesting?" she asks, her hazel eyes peaking from behind the paper.  I glance over my shoulder and give her a look telling her "Never mind."  Always when she says something like that, it means there's nothing all that good in the news.
    I can see that my mom has her brown hair tied back in a ponytail.  Having her hair pulled back helps lighten the dark hazel color in her eyes.  She's Lebanese so her skin is lightly tanned looking.  She's really tall and slender.  She's about 5'5". People say I get my looks from her, but I don't think so.  See, my mom and I have slightly different features. My mom has somewhat wavy hair, almost straight hair, while I have really wavy hair. She's even taller than me.  I'm about 5'2".  Also, my mom has hazel eyes while I have green eyes like my father.
    I grab an apple closing the fridge door.  I give Mama a kiss on the cheek before I leave the house, and drive off to work in my blue, 2000 Saturn.
    I work at a dance school for young, Muslim girls called Elegant Souls.  I used to take classes there, but I had to drop out because of my age.  The school allows only eight to thirteen year olds to enroll.  I'm seventeen years old, now.  I had to drop out about four years ago.  I signed up to volunteer there when I turned sixteen.  I don't get paid, but it's ok.  I have fun helping out.  I register new dancers and I also help 'tutor' those who miss classes or are having trouble catching up.  So, I still dance with the other girls, but only during rehearsals.  I'm not allowed to dance in the monthly performances.
    There is a dance class for girls my age, but that costs too much.  The classes are around three hundred dollars a month.  My mom can't afford that.  My mom works as a cafeteria lady at an elementary school, and her pay barely pays for our bills.  If I had a real salary-giving job, I probably could pay for my own classes, but I love my job at Elegant Souls.  It's really fun.  I don't care if I don't get paid.
    Maybe if my real dad was still around, I'd be able to enroll at the other school.  My dad's name is Mahmoud.  He married my mom about eighteen years ago, but left when I was just about to turn ten years old.  I never really knew why he left, though.  Mama and Baba started having intense arguments when I was about seven years old, I think.  They would fight a lot. A month before my tenth birthday they had a really big fight. I guess Baba had enough, because he packed some clothes, called a taxi, and left on a rainy night.
    He lives in Wisconsin now.  Mama and I live in Nashville, Tennessee.
    I've never seen Baba since he left.  I've spoken to him over the phone a few, times but only for about ten or twenty minutes.  Most times I would talk to him on Eid-ul-Fitr or Eid-ul-Udha.  Those two Eids are Muslims' two holidays in a year.  Eid-ul-Fitr comes right after Ramadan, the month we fast in.  Eid -ul-Udha is all about sacrifice and going to Mecca for Hajj (Pilgrimage).
      Mama talks to him more than I do.  They get along a little better this way.
    He pays child support and everything, but that's not enough to consider him being in our lives.

Some girls are missing today from class.  It must be because of the local schools' homecoming parades.  They throw a lot of candy from the floats.  Kids just can't resist sweets.  There are about twenty-five girls who show up to class today.  They are all wearing black tights, white flowing ballerina skirts and matching tops; it's the uniform for the school.  The girls are in groups practicing their parts in the next show.
    The choreographer, Saajida, is standing in the back supervising the girls, while I sit at the front desk waiting and hoping for the other girls to show up.  I'm dressed in the same outfit as the girls, but I have a scarf wrapped around my head.  I'm also wearing a large 'hoodie' because my clothes are too tight.  Sometimes a guy comes in to drop off his daughter, or sister, or whatever, so I have to be dressed properly in front of them.
    Bored out of my mind, I start to skim through a magazine.  The magazine is about ballet and dancing, of course.
    A small hand tapping on the counter top interrupts my skimming.  In a mature, yet still young voice, I hear, "Hello!  Any day before I grow old and die!"
    I roll my eyes and look up from the magazine.  "Can I help you?" I ask in my most pleasant voice.
    A little girl, about eleven or twelve years old is standing in front of the counter.  She has a light brown hair that is tied back into a tight bun.  She has pale-ish skin that seems to glow in the light.  Her short height adds to her cuteness, but her piercing dark eyes add to her obnoxious attitude.
    There is a tall, and handsome guy with her.  He, too, has light brown hair that is combed forward and spiked up from the front.  His skin is a bit tanned, and the color of his gentle eyes matches the girl's green eyes.
    "Amaly, no need for your rudeness," the guy says with a chuckle.  "Sorry about that.  She can be like that sometimes." He pats her head. He looks pretty young, so I guess he's the girl's older brother. He looks like he's in his early twenties- maybe younger.
    "How unfortunate," I reply dully.  The guy clears his throat nervously. Maybe I should be nicer.  "It's fine," I say putting on a smile.  "So what can I do for you two?"
    "Well, you see, we just moved here from Missouri last week.  I work a lot in the day and I need to keep my sister somewhere since school is out.  She really loves to dance, so I thought about enrolling her in a dance school for the summer.  I was told this is the place to go, since she's Muslim.  Amaly is a natural"-
    I just cut him off.  "Sorry, but we can't take in late applicants."  Especially not little brats like her.  "We're already full and we have a performance next month so"-
    It's his turn to cut me off.  "Please," he pleads.  "She really wants this.  She can learn any choreography you teach her.  At least give her an audition before you turn her away."
    The guy looks desperate.  I guess an audition won't hurt.  "All right," I sigh, looking back at the girl- "Where is she?"  That Amaly girl isn't there anymore.
    "Samiiiraaa!"
    Aw crap!  Here comes my boss, Nadia Salem.  She's the owner of the Elegant Souls School.  She's really tall- taller than my mom.  And she's really skinny, too.  I swear she must be anorexic.  She is somewhere in her early 50's, but with all the horrible, thick make-up, you can't really tell.  She has this annoying high-class voice and attitude.  Kind of like rich sophisticated people, the kind you see in lame movies.  She's Muslim, too, but she's not a hijabi (one who wears a scarf over their head).
  She always has her silver hair tied back in a tight bun.  Maybe from how tight she ties her hair, she manages to give herself a temporary face-lift.
    Amaly is with her as she walks up to me with this corny grin.  "Who is this graceful ballerina I found dancing with the other girls?" Nadia asks.
    Graceful?  Oh goody.  If Nadia says that about someone, then they must be really good.  Nadia is a very difficult person to please.
    "Her name is Amaly Hamed," the guy answers for me.  "And I'm Ihab Hamed. I'm her older brother and her legal guardian."  He holds out a hand to shake Nadia's boney hand.  "So can she enroll?"
    "Of course!  Your sister is an amazing dancer.  Actually . . . Samira," Nadia turns to me.  "This girl is just like you when she dances.  So, I want you to teach her the choreography for the up coming show.  If she can catch up in time, then I can fit her in as a lead."
    Amaly smiles sweetly and determined.  "I promise to catch up and more, Mrs. Salem.  And I'm sure Samira can help me do so."  She looks at me.  Maybe Nadia and Ihab can't see the evilness twinkle in her eyes, but I sure do.
* * *
Unbelievable!  That Ihab guy doesn't get off of work until eight o'clock tonight!  Guess who has to take Amaly home with her?  Me!  So tonight, for the next three hours, I have to put up with the obnoxious little runt.  She was testing me in class today, criticizing every move I made.  "You look like a limping flamingo," she said at one point when I showed her an arabesque; that's when I support my body on my right leg and extend the other behind me with my knee straightened out.
    Mama thinks it's a great idea for me to watch over Amaly while her brother is at work.  And of course, Amaly puts on her sweet, innocent little smile around Mama.  I bet as soon as we get into my room, she's just going to take off that mask to reveal her true evil nature.
    "You have a lot of CD's," she comments looking through my CD case.  She looks at a Nancy Ajram CD. Does this kid have any respect for privacy?  "I guess you have good taste."  I guess she doesn't.
    "Look you," I finally say moving my beanbag to a corner.  "I need to work on the choreography for the girls who skipped class today."  I walk up to Amaly and take my CD away from her putting it back in the CD case.  "Now, pretend to be a good girl around me, and just stay put!"  I hand her a Disney magazine.  "Here, do something educational, and read."
    Amaly looks at the magazine.  "You like Disney, too?"  I just glance at her.  "I guess we have another thing in common."
    "We both like Disney?"  I'm a little less annoyed by her now.
    She shakes her head and holds up the magazine to show a picture of Corbin Blue and random heart sketches.  "I love Corbin, too," she says with a smile.
    I can't help myself and grin back.  "Really?  Well, he is pretty hot, so I don't see why any girl wouldn't love him."
  She nods giggling.
  So I guess she's all right.  We just ran into a bad first impression.  "Uh, you know a good way to practice ballet is ice skating."
    "Can we go ice skating?" Amaly asks excitedly.
    I laugh and say, "Yeah."  I look at my watch.  It's only six p.m.  "We can go now for about an hour or so, but you need to ask your brother first."
    Before she says anything, Mama calls me from the kitchen.  I hand Amaly my cell phone.  "Here, call him.  I'll be right back."  I walk out of my room and go to the kitchen.
    Mama is sitting at the kitchen table with a concerned look on her face.  She motions me to sit down at the table across from her.  I do so and ask her what's wrong.  She takes a deep breath.  "I just got off the phone with Baba," she starts off calmly.  "We talked a little, and he wanted to know if you wanted to go visit him."
    What?  Where the hell did that come from?  "He wants me to come visit him?"  I can't help but sound a bit angry.  Baba left us.  Why should I have to be the one to go visit him?  Neither of us should have to go see him!  He's the one who should get his butt down here to visit.
    "I know.  I was shocked and upset by the whole thing, too, but . . . " Mama trails off for a moment looking off away from me.  She's thinking about what she's going to say next, I guess.  "You know . . . When abuki (your father) and I were married for about four years and had you, he married behind my back.  I didn't know about this until you were about seven years old. I saw pink lipstick on the far side of his left cheek.  That' why we started arguing so much and he kept on leaving more on his "business trips."  I mean, it's ok Islamically for a man to marry up to four wives, but he had no reason for it.  So, I never understood why he did that to me- and you."  Mama pauses for a moment then continues.  "What he did was stupid, but he's still your father.  I think you should go see him."
    I just look at my mom.  Baba remarried on Mama?  How could he do that?  And now he expects me to come see him; the one who left? Hell no! I don't want to go see that-
    "Okay, I'll go visit," I say nonchalantly.
    Man, I can't believe I agreed to go. Mama seems to want me to go, though. "I can go for a few days," I add. "He doesn't even deserve an hour visit from me."
    Mama laughs in agreement. "I'll tell him to buy you a plane ticket. When do you want to go?"
    Never!
    "After the upcoming show. But I'm only going to stay there for two days."
* * *
Amaly and I don't go to the ice rink. Ihab said that she wasn't dressed properly for the ice. Sheesh. It's not like she was going to get sick from a little ice. She's wearing long sleeves!  I'm walking her home, though. Summer nights are pretty cool, so it's a nice night for a stroll.
    I tell Amaly that I will be gone for a few days after the upcoming performance. When she asks why, I basically just start blabbering out everything.  From Baba's second marriage to the divorce.  I notice her actually listening.  We talk about the whole thing the entire walk to her apartment.
    "I think you should go see your dad," Amaly says, digging through her purse for her spare key.  "You don't have to be nice or anything or anything.  Just see how miserable he is without you and your mom."  She opens the door to the apartment.
    "Yeah," I laugh.  "I guess."
    Out of nowhere, Ihab grabs Amaly from the front door into the home and pulls her into a great big hug.  "Hey there, Squirt!"  He squeezes her tightly then looks at me, still squishing the poor kid.  Can she even breathe?!  "Oh, marhaba (Arabian greeting) Samira," he says letting go of Amaly, finally.  "Thanks for watching my sister.  Hope she didn't give you too much trouble.  Don't worry.  You won't have to do this everyday.  I'm going to find a babysitter"-
    "No, it's fine!" I cut in with a smile.  "We actually had fun.  I'd be more than happy to take her home again."
    "Really?"  He laughs.  He has a really cute smile.  "That's great.  I felt bad asking you to baby-sit her because when you first met her I thought you were going to tear her apart or something."  I laugh because it's true.  I really did want to tear the kid to pieces when I first met her.  "Hey, since you're here, you want to play a round of Monopoly?  I just pulled the game out and set it up for when my Squirt comes home.  We can get to know each other this way.  I mean, since you're willing to take Amaly home more after classes."
    "Well, I don't know," I say unsure.  "I mean that game takes forever to finish."
    "Come on.  It's really fun.  If we don't finish tonight then we can finish tomorrow."  Ihab smirks.  "And then the next day, and the next day, and the next day..."
    I laugh at his little humor.  "Ok, but only for an hour or two.  I have to call my mom first so she can come give me a ride home."
    "Oh, she doesn't have to worry about that.  I can talk to her if you want and I'll give you the ride home.  Amaly will come with us, so you're mom doesn't have to feel uncomfortable about a guy taking you home."
* * *
In about two weeks, Amaly was able to learn the entire choreography for the upcoming show.  We had practiced in classes and for almost 3-4 hours after classes.  After Nadia saw all that the girl could do, she changed the choreography a bit by adding the top, main role.  Amaly is now that main role.  She's the princess of the lost girls.
    The show is kind of like Peter Pan and the Lost Boys, but this time there it will be Lost Girls. All of the younger girls play the parts of the Lost Girls from the kingdom of Lost Children. Amaly is the only one who is the oldest in this group of girls; she's going to be their princess. The older girls play the parts of the children of the kingdom that surrounds the Kingdom of Lost Children. They'll be like the pirates from Peter Pan.
    The Lost Girls are dressed in all green and white; they are dressed to look like tree nymphs. They wear white tights and tops with leaf-green, flowing ballerina skirts. Their eyes are decorated with a regular-green eye shadow that's coated with a thin film of white shimmer dust. Pinkish-brownish blush will tint their small cheeks and pink lip-gloss will coat their thin, adorable lips. Their hair buns are tied with green ribbons that are styled to look like leaves. The buns themselves look like blossomed cherry flowers.
    The older girls are dressed in black tights and tops along with a golden color ballerina skirts. Since they are the evil tree-nymphs of the story, their faces are decorated with make-up that is a bit darker. They wear a golden eye shadow with black eyeliner. And the blush on their cheeks is a brownish color. They are also wearing a reddish-pinkish lip-gloss. Their hair buns are styled just like the younger girls' but with gold and brown ribbons.
    This is just the idea of what the girls will be dressed like for the upcoming performance.
    With the performance only three days away, everyone is working diligently. Amaly and I are in the back with a handful of the younger girls. I'm helping them perfect one of the scenes they were having difficulty learning. They are all doing really well. I can't seem to find a single flaw in their dancing. These girls are so determined. It's amazing! They're taking this performance seriously- in a good way.
    Amaly doesn't seem to be too into practice today. Her movements look strong, but at the same time, dull. I can see it in her face as well. She looks so tired. Maybe she's been working too hard for this performance. We have been practicing a lot more after classes.
    This girl needs a break.
    I tell the girls to go take a five-minute break. When they leave Amaly's literally giving me a death glare. She hates it when her rehearsal is interrupted like that. "What's with the look? They need a break, especially you. You guys have been working for an hour straight."
    "I'm not tired," she says trying not to sound exhausted.
    "Sure you're not." I roll my eyes at her stubbornness. "Just admit you're tired already, okay?" I use a firm tone to let her know I'm serious.
    She just shrugs. "I am a little tired and kind of sore. So what." She looks faint. "I forgot to take my medicine this morning, but I'll be fine. I'll take it when I get home"-
    "Medicine?" What medicine? I didn't know this kid took and medicine. She looks down, not saying anything. "Well? What medicine are you talking about? Do you really need it?" Still no answer, but she stumbles a bit mutterings something that I don't understand. Before I could ask her what she said, she falls to the floor unconscious. "Amaly?!" I kneel down by her and gently turn her over on her back. What the hell happened? I quickly check her pulse and breathing. She seems to still be breathing fine, but too short and rasp and, her pulse is pretty fast. That might be from the practice today. She never took any breaks.
    Nadia moves through the crowd of girls. I didn't even notice them circled around us. "What happened here?" she asks, panicked. I explain to her about Amaly telling me that she didn't take some medicine then just passed out. "I'll call the ambulance," she says running back to her office.
    I recheck her pulse and breathing while the choreographer gestures all of the girls to another room. Her breathing is getting softer and her pulse is slowing down, but in an abnormal pattern. The ambulance won't get here in time. She needs to go the hospital, now! So without hesitating, I pick Amaly up in my arms and run out of the school to my car. I strap Amaly into the passenger seat and get into the driver's seat, speeding off to the hospital.
    I pull out my cell phone and call Ihab. I explain to him what happened and let him know that I'm heading to the emergency room now. He sounds really panicked on the other end of the phone. He says that he'll meet me at the hospital.
    Police sirens cut my call short.
    I hang up my phone and look in my rear view mirror. Perfect! The police car is chasing me- duh! I pull over to the curb and wait for him to pull over as well. When he does, I get out of the car frantically. "I have to get to the hospital!" I say trying not to sound hysterical.
    The officer gets out of his car with his hand on his gun. Dumb ass must think I'm going to shoot him or something. I just put my hands up a bit to show him I'm harmless and repeat, "I really need to get to get my sister to the emergency room, now!" Sister? That one kind of slipped.
    "What's wrong with her?" the officer asks walking up to my car.
    I open my door so he can see her. "I don't know. She just passed out in class. She's not breathing right, and her pulse is all weird"- I'm completely rambling now.
    "Ok, take it easy," the officer says putting a hand up gesturing me to calm down. "I'll drive in front of you with my sirens on so we can get you two to the ER, okay?"
    "Thank you so much!" This guy has no idea how grateful I am to him.
* * *
When I get to the emergency room carrying Amaly, I demand for help. And that's what I get. Two nurses come and take Amaly from me and lay her onto a hospital bed. I follow them as they take her down a hall passed large double doors. One of the nurses stops me.
    "I'm sorry," she says blocking my way to Amaly, "but you can't go passed those doors. You have to stay in the waiting room."
    "But that's my sister," I say trying to stay calm. "I have to go see her. I need to know what's wrong." I try to move passed her again, but she stops me.
    "The nurses and doctor need space so they can help your sister," the nurse explains. "So you need to wait out here. The doctor will let you know what's wrong as soon as possible, okay?"
    Seeing how she's just not going to let me through, I go to the waiting room and just sit in one of the chairs waiting anxiously.
    Ihab shows up five minutes later. When he sees me he demands to know how his sister was doing. I tell him that I really didn't know, let alone know what was wrong with her. He says that he possibly knows what's wrong. Before I get a chance to ask him what he is talking about, he goes over to the front desk to talk to one of the nurses. I see her eyes widen when he talks to her and hands her something. She nods and then rushes back through the double doors where Amaly was taken.
    He comes back and sits down next to me with a heavy sigh. I just look at him waiting for an explanation. Ihab glances at me then sits up straight. "You ok?" I raise an eyebrow at him. "Yeah..." I think he gets the hint that I want him to explain what is going on. "Listen, Amaly was diagnosed with leukemia about 2 years ago. She had to stay in the hospital for about a year, but they let her go home. She goes back every month or two for chemotherapy. The doctors in Missouri gave her medicine to take while she's out of the hospital to help with any fatigue she may have. I guess from not taking her medicine this morning and the dance rehearsals she wore herself out completely."
    Leukemia? "How bad is her leukemia?" I ask. "I mean will she be okay?"
    Ihab doesn't answer me for a second. "The doctors back in Missouri and even here told me that"-
    A doctor comes up to us before Ihab could finish and tells us that we can go see Amaly now.
    I ask Ihab to finish what he was going to say, but he puts on a faint smile and tells me to "hurry up."
* * *
Amaly stayed the night in the hospital. I never went in to see her. After Ihab told me about Amaly having leukemia I couldn't get myself to go see her at all. I was too afraid to go in and see her. I'm not really sure why, but I had this sick feeling in my stomach just thinking about having to see her in the hospital bed. I told Ihab to go in and see her for me, and to call me later to tell me how she was doing. I had gone home to read and anxiously wait for his call.
    Nadia had called my house by accident instead of my cell phone. She told Mama about what happened, so as soon as I walked into the house my mom attacked me with questions. I told Mama that Amaly was fine that she just needed to stay the night in the hospital. I escaped to my room, letting her know that I didn't want to talk about it anymore.
    I sit in bed waiting for Ihab to call me. He never finished what he was going to say back in the hospital. He was saying that the doctors told him something, but what was it? Then again, he did pause before he started to tell me. I can guess what he was going to say, but I'm afraid to do even that.
    That's it! I've had it. I need to call him. I grab my phone and call Ihab. The phone rings a few times before he answers. "Ihab?"
    "Hey, didn't expect you to call." He sounds more like his normal self now.
    "Yeah, well I just couldn't wait for you to call. How's your sister?"
    "She's doing fine now. She's just sleeping."
    "Good . . . Hey, you never finished telling me what the doctors told you about Amaly."
    Once again he doesn't say anything.
    "Ihab."
    I hear him sigh, and then I hear a door close quietly. I guess he left the room he was in. "They told me that the odds of her living are against her." I feel a sharp pain shoot through my heart. "The doctors don't think she's going to live that long. She could die before her fifteenth birthday and she's only twelve right now."
    She's only twelve and has leukemia? "Well, that explains a lot I guess." No wonder he was so desperate to get her enrolled at Elegant Souls. She loves to dance and that's really the only school she can go to for dancing and performing. "So, is she going to be ok for the performance?" I clear my throat and try to sound normal. "She's been look forward to it since she came to the school. She would hate to miss it."
    Ihab chuckles a bit. "Yeah, she'll perform. She was actually talking about it today . . . She's so excited . . ." He trails off. I can hear it in his voice that he's trying not to cry. "You know Sam, I really need to thank you. You've been great to my Squirt. She talks about you a lot."
    "Heh, does she really?"
    "Yup. You're like a big sister to her."
    I laugh a little trying not to cry my self. I take a small breath and say, "Well I have to go."
    "Oh, ok then. Well I guess I'll see you at the school for the performance."
    "Yeah. Oh and Ihab?"
    "Hm?"
    "You're really strong."
    Silence follows a soft sigh.
* * *
Amaly was let out of the hospital the next day. When I saw her at the school I didn't mention anything about what happened the other day and neither did she. We just acted like nothing had happened.
    The performance went really well tonight. No one made any mistakes at all. The girls were unbelievably elegant and graceful. The audience adored Amaly the most. I guess that's only because she was the lead.
    She came home with me after the performance. Ihab said that he would come a little later to pick her up. When we got to my place, I grabbed a large quilt. I had then spread the quilt out on the ground outside in the back yard for the two of us to lie down on.

    We're looking up at the night sky now making pictures of the stars. Amaly points out a flower, off to the right. It takes me a second to see it, but I find the flower that she sees. She laughs at my slowness and points out a bunny figure.
    "I can see that," I lie.
    She knows I'm lying, too.
    We find so many different shapes in the stars.  Not able to find anymore pictures, we just lie there now admiring them.
    After a long moment of silence, Amaly speaks. "So I guess you know about me and the leukemia," she says quietly. I don't say anything. "I didn't want you to know, because I didn't want you to feel sorry for me and pity me." I still stay quiet. There's a long awkward silence. "You don't pity me, do you?"
    I take a moment to swallow my sadness. "What's it like?"
    "What?"
    I look at her. "What's it like to know that you may not get a chance to live your life completely?"
    Amaly looks at me, and then looks back up at the sky. "It's pretty scary I guess. I mean, a lot of people would say that my life has barely begun and all. But when you think about it, a lot of people die when they're young. There are kids a lot younger than me who die from disease or worse. So who am I to complain about dying, right?" Her voice is cracking a bit. I can tell she really wants to cry. "I should be thankful that I lived to be twelve. I had a hard time with this leukemia, but it's helped me realize how every moment in life is so precious. It should never be wasted.
    "You know what I do before and after dance rehearsals?"
    "No."
    "I read about ten pages from the Qur'an starting from the beginning." That kills me. "A lot of kids all around the world who are younger than me have the whole Qur'an memorized and they get to live their lives until they're really old. I want to memorize the whole Qur'an, too. I have only two chapters left to memorize." I can see tears rolling down her face. "I'm trying to make my life worth something. I don't have much time left to do that, but at least I can try. I can try to be a better and more educated Muslim, let alone a person."
    I sigh shakily. That's just amazing. How many kids her age would say things like that? Not very many. She's really strong; just like her brother.
    We don't say anything for what feels like a half hour. We just lie there staring up at the sky.
    Amaly finally breaks the silence. "You ready to go see your dad tomorrow?"
    That's right. I'm supposed to go to the airport tomorrow. I thought about it for almost a week and came down to the decision of whether I wanted to go or not. I called him last night and told him, "I'm not going." I shake my head and tell Amaly the same thing. "I told him that last night. I called him up and I told him straight that I wasn't going to visit him, then I hung up."
    Amaly sits up and looks at me. She then reaches into the pocket of my hoodie and pulls out my cell phone and hands it to me. "Call him," she says when I take the phone. "You're angry with him, but he probably has no idea how angry you are. At least tell him why you don't want to see him."
    I look at the phone and flip it open. "Okay. I'll call." I get up to my feet and walk ahead away from her for a little privacy. I dial Baba's number and wait for him to answer.
    "Hello?" It's him. I don't say anything at first. "Anyone there?" I don't know what to say. "Hello?"
    "It's me, Baba," I finally say.
    "Oh, Samira! How are you?"
    "I'm fine, I guess."
    "Good, good. So are you changing your mind about coming?"
    "Um, no actually I just wanted to explain why I don't want to come see you, so just listen ok?"
    "All right . . ."
    "It just doesn't seem fair. You were the one who left Mama and me seven years ago. You never came to visit us once since you left. You only made phone calls. But most of the times, it was Mama who had to call you. You rarely called us"-
      "Samira, I'm really sorry"-
    "No, Baba! Sorry won't be enough anymore. That's all you would say, but it's not enough!" I'm starting to fall apart now. "You left! And then you never came back for even a day to see your kid. Your own flesh and blood! Sorry won't make up for that pain- for that emptiness!" I can't help but sob everything I say. "Baba why did you force us out of your life like that? What was wrong with Mama? What was wrong with me?! Were we not good enough for you? Is that why you married again and had other kids? Why Baba? Why did you leave?!" I can hear him suppressing sobs on the other end. "Can you blame me for not wanting to come? Can you blame me for hating you?"
    I stop yelling at him, but I'm still crying. I wait for him to answer me.
    It takes a while but he finally says, "You're right. I'm sor- I have no right to apologize. I was an idiot. I don't deserve your forgiveness. I do need to make up what I did to you two though, and I promise I will. I don't know how, but I will."
    I turn around and see Amaly still standing by the quilt. She's looking off to the side. Her brother's with her, too.
    "I'm going to hang up now," I say dully.
    "Okay," Baba says. "I'll call you later. I promise I will. And Samira?"
    "Yeah?"
    "There was nothing wrong with you guys. There was something wrong with me."
    I just say "okay" and hang up wiping tears from my face.
* * *
I get a call from Ihab the next morning. He tells me that Amaly won't be coming to rehearsals for the next week. She's in the hospital for chemotherapy. He tells me it's ok to come visit her later tonight, but I tell him that I wasn't going to the hospital. When I say that, he pauses then says that he understands.
    It's not that I don't want to see her, but like I said before: I can't stand even the thought of Amaly in the hospital. I don't want to see her in a place like that, despite all the things she said to me last night.
* * *
It's been three days already and I haven't heard from Ihab. I really miss Amaly. I want to talk to her, but over the phone won't be enough. I don't really have a choice but to actually go. I don't want her to hate me for not visiting her.
    I look outside. The sun is almost gone completely. It's about eight o'clock in the evening right now. The sky looks a lot darker than usual. Dark clouds are shielding it. There's going to be a storm tonight. If I'm going to go see Amaly, I should go now. I don't like to drive in the rain.
    Grabbing my hoodie, I leave the house and drive off to the hospital. It's supposed to be a twenty-minute drive to the hospital, but I get there in about twelve minutes. For some reason I feel like I need to rush down there. I don't know why. Ihab told me she would be fine.
    I hurry up to the front counter and ask for Amaly Hamed. They say only family is allowed to visit her.
    "I don't have time for this," I argue. "I need to see her, now."
    "I'm sorry Miss, but those are the rules here."
    I feel a hand rest on my right shoulder and then hear Ihab's voice. "She is family. She's Amaly's older sister." I look up at Ihab to thank him. He looks so tired. He must have been up with her all night. He leads me up to Amaly's room after the nurse gives me a visitor sticker pass. He doesn't really say much to me when we go up to the room. He just asks me how I'm doing. I tell him that I'm all right. Then after that: nothing.
    "You seem really tired," I say trying to break the silence. I didn't like how he was acting. It made me so anxious. "You should take a nap or something." He looks down at me with that tired expression from earlier. He barely smiles and says to not worry about him.
    Ihab opens the door to Amaly's room. "I'll be out here, ok?"
    I nod and go in.
    Amaly is lying down in bed. She's looking out the window. The blinds are open, so I can see the rain starting to pour down. I hear Qur'an recitation playing in the entire room. It's a CD of kid reciting. She must really be listening to the recitation deeply, because she doesn't move at all.
    I look around the room. There are a few balloons on the walls. I guess Ihab blew them up himself. There are a lot of stuffed animals around the room. I look back at Amaly. I can see the tubes and around her and the IV in her left hand. She looks really pale and drained. I want to leave so badly, but I don't. Instead I go and I sit in a chair in front of the window she's looking out of and just look at her. She still doesn't move. She's just looking out at the rain, listening to the Qur'an. I don't take my eyes off of her and just listen with her.
    An hour passes when the CD finishes. We stay silent not saying anything to each other. Amaly is breathing slowly but normally. Eventually I look down, leaning forward, and resting my arms on my thighs. I hear Amaly clear her throat. I glance up at her.
    "The best Qaris are the young ones," she comments. She must be talking about the kid who was reciting the Qur'an. "I wanted to be one of those kids."
    "You still can," I say firmly. Why did she say it like that? "You only have two chapters left, don't you?" Amaly looks at me with the saddest expression I have ever seen. I sit up straight not wanting to believe the thought coming to my mind. "I'll help you finish memorizing the Qur'an, okay? I start to get up looking around the room. "You have a Qur'an in here? We can"-
    "Samira," Amaly sounds really weak. I stop and sit down slowly. "I don't want to complain. I'm grateful for the things I had in my life. I had great parents. I had an amazing brother who took care of me and loved me with the love and care of two parents after mine died. And I had a great sister who also took care of me."
    I grab Amaly's hand, and can't help but start crying now. "Stop talking like that, Amaly. You're going to be fine, okay?"
    She just ignores me and keeps talking. "I've never had a sister before, and I'm glad God blessed me with you and Ihab. You made me so happy and helped me appreciate life even more." She's starting to cry now, too. "Please don't be mad about me dying, because then I'll be mad. It's ok to be sad . . . but only a little." She squeezes my hand. "We're all going to die one day. I'm just destined to die now."
    I can't help but to be upset about this, but I just nod and switch from sitting in the chair to sitting on her bed by her. Amaly asks me to lie down by her. I do so willingly. I'm still holding her left hand with my right hand, and letting her rest her head on my left arm. I lean my head on top of hers.
    The remote to the CD player is lying on her stomach. I grab the remote and turn the CD player on.
We just lay there listening to the Qur'an recitation.
    "Samira . . ?" She sounds so tired, it's killing me.
    I try to sound strong. "Yeah?"
    "Can you tell Ihab that it's ok to cry?"
    I just nod.
    Amaly pauses for a moment. I think she's trying to build up the energy to speak. "Samira? Will you come visit my grave a lot?"
    I start crying again, but silently. I nod again. "Yeah, I promise I will. I'll come everyday."
    "Can you . . . read me at least a couple pages from the Qur'an when you do?"
    "I will," I say crying. Man I really need to stop. I'm making her cry, too. "Every time I come, I'll read Qur'an and I'll pray for you. I'll even say a dua'a every time I come."
    The beeps on the EKG machine start to sound more and more distant with every passing second. Amaly's breathing starts to sound faint.
    I kiss her forehead when I don't hear her breathing or hear the EKG anymore.
    Ihab walks in and looks at us lying in bed. I he looks at me with a confused expression. I can't help but continue to cry when he looked at the EKG. He looks down with a shaky sigh and just stands there. He turns around covering his mouth, then moving his hand down as if to wipe it. I get out of the bed wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my hoodie and walk up to him. I want to put my hand on his shoulder to make him look at me, but I know better than to do that. So, I tell him that I'm sorry about his loss.
    He shakes his head not saying anything. He's trying so hard not to cry.
    "She wants me to tell you something," I say taking a deep breath. "She wants you to know that it's ok to cry."
    He walks past me and sits in the chair by Amaly's bed looking at her. He looks broken. He shakes his head looking down and just falls apart crying. He reaches for his sister's lifeless hand and kisses it and presses it against his forehead.
                                                  * * *
I stayed with Ihab the rest of the night in the hospital. He cried for about an hour, but then he finally calmed down. When he thought about his sister dying, he'd cry a little then calm down again. I didn't blame him at all. She was so young, but who are we to be angry about her death. It was her destiny. The kid didn't complain when she knew she would die young. So neither Ihab nor I should complain. But, it wouldn't hurt to feel sad or wish that she was still here... Would it?