Free Safiah's Smile by Leora Friedman Page B

Malia.”
    She couldn’t keep herself from
breaking a smile. But she knew what he was trying to do. To change
the subject. To keep her from discovering the truth. To shield her
from what she needed to know.
    “So what do you think of college?
Is it everything you always thought it would be?”
    She stared.
    “I really hope it is. For your
sake.” It was almost as if he didn’t even notice her indifference.
Or maybe he simply chose to ignore it. “I always knew you’d like
college. You were always such a good student. So dedicated.” His
glassy glance was fixed on the opposite wall. Not on Malia.
    “Danny, you were the one who
always told me that I can’t hide things from people.” He looked at
her curiously. “Last year, when Beth’s mom... when she was killed,”
she cringed at the mere sound of the word, “you told me ‘you can’t
keep these things inside, Malia.’” The tears did not merely prickle
her eyes now. They flooded down her pink cheeks, as she inhaled
deeply. “That was one of the hardest times in my life. But... but
somehow I got through it,” she looked at him now. His face screamed
with sympathy. His eyes shrieked of apology. But he still remained
silent. “I know about Sam, Danny. My Mom called me this morning.”
Could he even hear her words through her scratchy, subtle tone? She
removed her silky black sweater and swiped it roughly against her
swollen eyes and damp cheeks. “I just... I... just tell me. I can
handle it. Is he coming back, Danny?”
    He saw that she relied entirely on
his response. Her happiness and her spirits. They all depended
solely on his words. His heart raced wildly. Shivering, he sensed a
sudden rush of cold and gently brushed his palm across his
arms.
    “Malia, I’m not sure,” he swiped
the sweat from his forehead. “I don’t know where your brother is,”
he mumbled, never once removing his fixed glance from her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
    She buried her face in her palms,
muffling her cries. Her cheeks were coated with a fresh layer of
tears that trickled down her chin and stained the neckline of her
black sequin dress.
    “I promised you,” he reflected.
“That day, after graduation. I promised I’d protect him.” His
uninjured leg trembled harshly against the ground. He shuffled his
muddled hair in frustration, and then, suddenly, he softened. “For
you. I promised we’d both come back. And here I am. I’m back. And
he’s...” his face drooped and his arms fell limply to his sides.
“He’s not.”
    “Danny, I don’t blame you,” she
whispered earnestly. “I really don’t. I know that you must’ve done
everything you could.”
    “I would have died for him, Malia.
I would have done it for him. And for you.”
    “That’s not what I would have
wanted. Every soldier for himself, right?” she laughed
artificially, her mouth twisted in disgust.
    He looked at her amusedly. “I was
never such a fan of that slogan.”
    “ Oh. That’s right. You’re
only a fan of baseball teams that never win. I almost forgot.” The
words flew from her lips before she even knew what she was
saying. How can we joke like
this after everything that’s happened? she
asked herself. How can we act
like everything is normal when it’s not? It’s far beyond normal.
It’s verging on tragedy.
    “I don’t blame you, Danny,” she
pressed.
    “If only I had stayed with him,”
he continued. “Why couldn’t I break orders? Why did I have to
listen to the general? Why do I always have to follow the rules?”
He was barely even addressing her at this point. He was simply
speaking to the thick layer of warm oxygen surrounding him, to the
white wall opposite him, and to his bitter, cynical self.
    “Danny, I don’t blame you,” she
repeated.
    “He’s just a kid. What was I
thinking letting him join the army?” He spoke as if he were Sam’s
father. His guardian. His protector. “I supported him. I told him
it was a good idea. That I would go with him, and