Chapter 18

To say that I was shocked, was an understatement. I was fraught with worry. My head spun as I imagined Salma running away. I squeezed my eyes shut, wondering what would happen when my mother found out. She would hold me responsible, no doubt. And how was it that I didn't notice Salma leave? I had left her alone for less than two hours. How could she do this, I thought. Why would she do this?

An unknown boy's face popped in my mind and my blood boiled. It had to be a boy. Unless she was at Nadia's...

I ran to my room, grabbing my phone and calling Salma's number. It went unanswered. My blood pumped in my ears as I tried Nadia's number.

"Hello?" 

"Where's Salma?" I asked, my words coming out in a rush.

"What?" Nadia asked, sounding confused. "I don't know? What's--"

"I found a note in her room." I interrupted her. "She ran away. Is she with you?"

There was a small pause before Nadia's gasped. "No. I-I- what?"

"Nadia." I begged. "Please tell me where she could have gone."

"I-She ran away. Where?." Nadia whispered. "I dont know-"

"You know she has a boyfriend." I gritted out. "Right?"

"But, she..." Nadia mumbled. "But she wouldn't--"

"She has!" I all but screamed. "She's gone! Tell me where she went!"

"I don't know." Nadia cried. "There was this boy she was talking to, his name is Kevin but they're not that serious. She wouldn't run away with him!"

My mind surged forward. Kevin? The name rung a bell but I couldn't place a face to it.

"Who is he?" I asked.

"He's a classmate in her class. He's in the basketball team, too. They go for lunch sometimes and...and dates."

I sat down heavily, grasping my forehead. "How long?"

"A few months now." Nadia said, quietly. "She made me swear not to tell you."

"What's his number?"

"I--one minute."

I waited, my phone pressed against my ear as I scoured my mind for any memory of this boy. How could I have been so blind? If my sister had had a boyfriend all this time...why had I never suspected. But if I was being honest with myself...the signs had always been there. Nadia's teasing, my sisters blushed reactions. Her taking off her hijab. Staying out late. Lying about hanging out with friends.

I gritted my teeth. My phone buzzed with a notification.

"I texted you his number." Nadia told me. "I'll try calling her and my other friends and ask around."

She hung up and I quickly opened her text to call the number she'd sent me. I waited painstakingly as it rung. No answer. I tried a few more times. After the fifth call went unanswered, I felt like ramming my phone into a wall. I threw it away and grabbed a fistful of hair in my hands. The sky outside had darkened, casting shadows in my room. My clock ticked in the silence. My mom would be home soon and I was dreading her reaction.

Salma's words suddenly surfaced in my mind.

"I just want to be free from all this shit."

My throat hurt. I was in the same situation, too. I was living in the same house, under the same circumstances, too. But I wasn't planning on running away, I thought.

"Everything sucks and no one gets it."

I did. I got it. I understood it. Why did she never come to me? Why did I never notice her suffering?

I called Nadia again. After the third bell, she picked up, sounding out of breath.

"Have you got anything?" I asked her.

"No." She sounded tearful. "Did you call him?"

"I did." I sighed. "No answer. Did you give me the right number?"

"Yeah."

"Do you know where he lives?" I asked.

"No."

"Does she?"

"I-I don't think so?" Nadia paused. "She never mentioned it."

"Why would she do this?" I whispered harshly, to myself. "Doesn't she realize mom will go crazy...what do I do....how do I find her?"

"Maybe you should call the Police?" Nadia suggested, her voice small, afraid.

Instantly, my mind was filled with my mother's face when she would learn that the police are looking for her runaway daughter. I imagined officers searching the city for my sister, finding her hidden away at a random boy's house. Should I inform my mother of the situation first?

"Sure." I gulped, my voice not sounding my own.

I hung up and dialed my mother's number instead.

"Mum." I gasped out quickly, when she picked up. "Come home."

- -

The next few hours were filled with many tears, phone calling, yelling and general chaos. When I told my mom, over the phone that Salma was gone she immediately hung up, left work and came home. She spent a good fifteen minutes crying and screaming at me and upon seeing her daughter's note, she sobbed deeply into her hands. I knelt besides her and placed my head on her shoulders.

"Mama, she's not gone forever." I croaked out. "We can call the police. We can find her."

"I-" My mother gasped, throat clogged with tears. "I caused this. My lectures. My rules. I caused her to run away."

I left out the part that there might be a boy involved. Even though it killed me to leave out information that could help us find Salma, I didn't have the heart to give my mother more pain. Instead, I felt the weight of her guilt, felt my heart shudder at her words. She blamed herself.

"No, mum." I said, close to tears myself.

It was heartbreaking to see the strongest person in my life cry.

I called the police, leaving my mother in Salma's room, clutching her note. Her lips were busy in recitation, praying for Salma's safety. A jab of burning anger suddenly struck me; how could Salma do this? How could she leave, how could she break her own mother's heart?

What was with this life? Every turn, a new hardship. Everyday, someone left or died or changed or broke down. Every time, there was a little bit more pain and little bit less hope.

What was the point?

The police assured me that they would find my sister and asked me for information regarding her. I gave them all the details I could, including Kevin's number and told them that she may be with him. They took note, and I returned to my mother's side. She was burning up, her eyes still closed and her lips still moving in supplication.

I urged her to drink a glass of cold water but she refused. I left it by her side.

"Mum." I whispered. "I'm going to find Salma."

Her eyelashes fluttered, and they opened, gazing at me widely. She grabbed my hands.

"Do you know where she is? Where is my baby?" Her voice is desperate.

"I have an idea." I said.

"I'm coming with you."

"No, mama." I said, gently. " You stay here. In case she comes back."

My mom stared at me, understanding dawning in her eyes. Tears slipped down her face.

"Abdullah." She cried. "Find her, find my Salma."

- -

A year before my dad's accident, he had started teaching me how to drive. I remembered the first lesson, the first time he'd taken me out to an empty parking lot and showed me the car's parts, pointing out where and what each was, what it did, how to operate it. He'd showed me how to turn the steering wheel, where the brakes were, how everything functioned.

I had been pretty excited, to say the least. I'd always wanted to drive, like every kid did, and took it as a rite of passage into real adulthood. I dreamed of being behind the wheel, going over 100, the windows rolled down and the wind buzzing in my ears and all that.

But, after I gripped the wheel and took my first turn, foot pressed hesitantly on the gas pedal, I had realized how stupid I had been to think it would be easy. Not because of what I had been doing, but because of who had been teaching me.

My father had scolded me so harshly, so vehemently, that I'd wanted nothing to do with driving. Every time I would turn, stop, do anything, he would harshly reprimand me, hands flailing around and slapping his forehead as if I was the dumbest child on Earth. At the end of the lesson, he had declared me the most hopeless child in the world.

People sometimes asked me if I could drive, and the answer was yes. The thing was, I wouldn't.

I slipped into my mom's car, backing out the driveway as I fixed the rear view mirror to adjust to my height. Gripping the steering wheel brings back memories of my father's harsh lessons. I had barely lasted three, before applying for driving school. But even now, sitting behind the wheel made me think of him.

I sped along the wet roads; it had rained sometime after school, but I'd been too preoccupied to notice. As I drove, I reached for my phone, pulling up Ian's address. I remembered a snippet of conversation, a memory of Ian talking about various classmates, peers. I was almost sure that he'd mentioned a Kevin. I prayed it wasn't just a hopeless grab that my mind was conjuring up to find answers. Ian's house came into view and I skidded to a stop in front of it, jumping out carelessly.

I rang his doorbell three times.

I realized, as I waited, that Ian would probably want nothing to do with me. He might even close the door in my face, and decide not to help me at all. But I remembered Salma visiting him at the hospital, his warm response towards her. Maybe, for her sake, he would help.

The door opened to reveal a tired looking Ian. His eyes widened in shock upon seeing me, and I figured I probably looked a mess. But I wasted no time with explaining my appearance.

"Ian, I need your help." I said, to the point.

His mouth tightened in a line, eyes full of confusion. "What's wrong?"

"Do you know someone named Kevin?" I asked, "I'm almost sure you've mentioned him."

"Uh, why?"

"Please, just." I sighed, closing my eyes. "Do you know him?"

"Um, yes?" Ian answered, unsure. "I mean sort of. He's in my Homeroom class. Like Salma."

My heart jolted upon hearing this. "Are they...like...close?"

"What?" Ian asked, blinking. "Wait, why? What's happening? Why are you here?"

"Salma..." I croaked, after a short pause. "She's gone..."

"What?" Ian's mouth dropped. "Where? What happened?"

"She ran away." I explained. "Left a note in her room."

Ian was silent, staring. His eyes suddenly sparked.

"With...?"

I nodded my head. "I think so."

"Kevin..." Ian mumbled, gaze sliding beyond me. "Are they, like, together?"

"I don't know but I would really like to know where she is." I said. "So if you know where this guy lives...."

 "Oh, uh." Ian stuttered, still in shock. "I think my mom might know his family."

He spun on his heel and left me on his doorstep. My heart raced as a rush of silence overcame me. My thoughts were loud, however, and buzzed in my head. I turned to stare out at the street, watching as cars sped past, and beyond the wet roads, a grassy hillside looked over a lake. Overhead, clouds rumbled threateningly.

A few minutes passed, but each second felt as if it took a year. By the time Ian returned, he was dressed from head to toe in a raincoat and rubber boots. He was even gripping an umbrella. He slung on his backpack and gave me a firm nod.

"Let's go." He told me. "I got his address."

"Wait, what?" I asked, shaking my head. "Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna help you." He stated.

"What, no!"

"Why not?"

"This isn't your problem."

"Then why did you come here?"

I was silent, and then I sighed, shaking my head. "Okay, fine. Let's go."

I didn't have time to stand around and inquire as to why he was so eager to help. Besides, I knew Ian pretty well by now and the kid had a soft heart. He would help find a puppy if it was in danger. It wasn't so bad, I supposed.

I felt guilty, though. That, once again, I had involved him in my problems.

"Did you tell you mother where you're going?" I asked, knowing she would worry.

"Yeah, told her I needed Kevin's address because he was holding a study session at his place."

I grimaced. Oh, there wouldn't be studying, that's for sure, I thought. I was planning to throw hands if Salma turned out to be at this guy's house.

His place was located in the downtown area and by the time we reached our destination, it was dark outside. Sometime along the way it had started to drizzle and the muffled pitter patter of raindrops was the only thing that broke the silence between Ian and I. As we pulled up and I parked outside an apartment complex, I gazed up at the somber building.

"You know," Ian suddenly said, breaking the long silence that stretched between us. "I didn't know you could drive."

I said nothing and instead got out of the car.

"He lives in an apartment." I noticed. "That explains the address."

I looked down at a crumpled piece of paper. On it, was Kevin's address and a three digit number that must be his rooms'. We walked up the dark pavement and buzzed in the number. A voice rang out.

"Who is it?" It was a woman.

"I need to speak to Kevin."

There was a short pause. "Who is this?"

"A friend." I tried timidly, hoping she wouldn't ask for my name.

"Ugh, whatever." The voice mumbled, apparently not interested enough to ask for more information.

We waited impatiently for a few moments until a male voice suddenly called out.

"What do you want and who are you?"

"Is this Kevin?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Do you know a girl named Salma?"

There was a long, tense pause and then: "Why?"

"I'm her brother." I answered. "I'm looking for her."

"She's not here anymore." The voice is strangely quiet.

"Anymore?" I breathed. Beside me, Ian fidgeted restlessly.

"She left like an hour ago." Kevin stated, sounding aggravated. "She was spewing some nonsense about running away and shit. What was she expecting me to do? Keep her here? Sorry, no."

"Well, where is she?" I barked, suddenly angry.

This guy just had the nerve to throw my sister out on the street, I thought. If he didn't want to help her he could have at least returned her safely home.

"How the hell do I know?" He said.

"She must have said something before leaving."

There was no reply. I kicked at the door in frustration, while Ian sighed deeply, a worried expression etched on his face. I fished my pocket for my phone and rang up Nadia.

"Did you have any luck?" I asked her when she picked up.

"No." Her reply was forlorn. "I keep calling her phone, too, but it's still off."

"She was at Kevin's." I told her and Nadia goes quiet. "Not there anymore. Left an hour ago. Do you have any idea where she might go?"

"Maybe she went back home?" Nadia said.

"My mom would have called me by now." I explained, tugging my hair. 

"She could be at a friend's place, then." Nadia said, thoughtfully. "I'll keep calling everyone she knows."

"Okay."

When I hung up, Ian voiced an idea. 

"Maybe we should check downtown area?"

"What do you mean, like, homeless shelters?" I questioned.

"No, I mean the streets and bridges."

"What the hell." I exclaimed. "My sister is not suicidal."

"I didn't mean it like that." Ian put up his hands. "But, maybe, she's just walking around thinking about where to go. Maybe she's lost."

I considered, and massaged my forehead. A giant headache was forming between my temples. I gave Ian a nod and shuffled to my car. His soft footsteps followed me.

As we drove into the busy downtown area, night time had fully settled in. Girls clad in short dresses walked down the streets arm in arm with men who looked dressed for a fight. Bars were opening their doors, blaring music at full volume, and long lineups were forming. People laughed and sung, excited for a night of partying.

I kept my eyes on the lookout, watching for Salma's grey coat and dyed red hair. Maybe Ian hadn't meant to imply it, but my mind flashed back to that day when I had boarded a bus that was headed into downtown. That day, that bridge, and that man who stood at the edge of it.

My sister was not the suicidal type, I reasoned with myself, and yet I could not forget the hopelessness in her voice today. After all, even I would be lying if I hadn't considered the prospect of death. But to actually carry out the act, was another matter.

We came across a bridge, one of the many in the city and I felt as if my heart was in my throat. Besides me, Ian was leaned up against the dashboard, eyes searching. We were both tense and alert, I realized, both watching, waiting, and dreading the worst.

We couldn't find her anywhere.

That was until, my phone suddenly rang. I glanced at the screen. It was Salma.

___________________________________________

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