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The Feel of the Moment and Challenging Fate

Hamza Musa-Ali

            Does it bother me that how popular I am is directly related to how hot I get? Yeah. It does. I hate school. I hate all the assholes and all the bitches that go around starting shit. I can’t stand many people, which is ironic considering how much popular I’ve gotten since freshman year.

            Now don’t go mistaking me for some dude that keeps track of how popular he is. I’m not like that. But objectively speaking, I was ugly and unpopular freshman year. Junior year hit, I started growing, and guys like Krish and Omar started chilling with me more often, especially after I tried out for lacrosse and made the team.

            Omar knew me from the mosque, so he’s been indifferent until last year. Krish and I were never friends until junior year either. It pisses me off when they see girls like Harmony and Carmen-Sofia talking to me and approaching me and that’s what makes them want to be friends with me. Contrary to popular belief, I am a fucking person. With feelings.

            That’s why, no matter how much he pisses me off, Christian is still my best friend. I’ve known him since the end of sixth grade when I was new atCreekmooreMiddle School. We met during gym and we’ve been friends ever since.

            Five days before the first day of school, I finally get Christian to hang out without Janessa around. She’s not that bad, but the way she’s changed Christian annoys me. Now it’s like all he does is hang out with her. If he’s not hanging out with her, he’s doing something indirectly related to her, like picking up her little brothers from karate lessons or whatever.

            Today, we’re supposed to go to the skate park with the guys, somewhere we haven’t been in years. I’m supposed to be picking him up. As I’m about to leave the house, I get a call from Christian. “Yo,” I don’t even bother saying hello.

            “Hey man, are you on your way?”

            “Yeah, I’m leaving right now.”

            “Ok. I’ll see you when I see you.” We hang up as I unlock the car. When I slide into the driver’s seat, I curse at how hot the seats are. Shit. Only Florida would be this hot.

            It only takes me ten minutes to get to Christian’s house. The garage is open but there are no cars in the driveway. His parents are probably out. I go through the door from the garage. It’s unlocked, as usual. The door leads directly to the kitchen. There’s nobody in there, but the stove is on and something is cooking. It smells delicious.

            “Hello, Hamza.” A female voice with a sexy Spanish accent makes its way to my ears. Two years ago this voice, that accent would have made me stuttering and flailing to not sound like a dumbass. But this time, it does nothing for me.

            “Hey! Alicia. When’d you get here?!” I turn and smile at the girl who had me wrapped around her finger since I met her freshman year.

            “Two days ago. Christian did not tell you?” The words roll off her tongue like warm honey. Her voice is as feminine yet sexy as ever, but this time…nothing. My heart is still inside my chest, dormant, like a volcano that doesn’t even bother to erupt. What the hell?

            “No, he didn’t mention it. What are you making?” I head over to the stove to see but she slaps my arm lightly and holds me back.

            “No! You can not see until I am finished making the dish.” She shoos me away and ushers me over to the breakfast table to sit down. “But would you like some flan while you wait?” Flan? I love flan.

            “Yeah, I’d like some. Thanks.” Smiling, she walks over to the fridge and takes out a platter. Then, she heads to the cupboards and takes out plates and spoons. As she does this, I observe her, trying to figure out why I’m not nervous right now, why my palms are perfectly dry, why my cheeks aren’t on fire yet.

            She looks the same as she has—better, even. We share the same birthday, and she’s three hours and thirty-eight minutes younger than me. I met her freshman year when she visited Christian and I was over at his house. Since then, I’ve seen her once or twice a year and we’ve always gotten along well.

            She’s girly, but she has three brothers, so she gets along with me and Christian well and surprisingly fits right in. Whether it’s coming with us to explore the hidden pond in Christian’s neighborhood or playing Black Ops, she tries it. I think I’ve always liked how she can be feminine and still…fun to be around.

            And she’s gorgeous, to top it all off. She has a running stream of shimmery, dark brown hair the color of chocolate. She’s tall, maybe a little shorter than Christian, and believe me, over the years she got some serious curves. But it’s her eyes and the way she looked at me that always had me losing my shit whenever I was around her. They’re this deep, piercing gray color with a little bit of sky blue in them—this weird combination. But she looks at you like what you have to say is important and that she really cares. So whenever she was around, I used to tell her whatever shit was going on, when Christian wasn’t around.

            “Wait one moment.” She gently sets the platter of flan in front of me and goes to find something. “Here we go!” Alicia comes back with a knife to cut the thing. We both get a piece and she sits opposite of me as we eat. I ask her about her year and what she’s been up to and she begins talking, leaving out boring details, which is greatly appreciated.

            I notice then that I left the door that connects the garage to the house. I don’t bother interrupting her and just let it go until I forget about it altogether. “Wait, let me tell Christian you’re here.” Alicia springs up as she ends her story. I’ve been here ten minutes probably and Christian has no idea I’m here. I check my phone as she goes off to his room. We’re gonna be late if we don’t leave soon. Setting my plate in the sink, I head to the bathroom until Christian comes out.

            When I’m done, I’m walking back out but pause when I hear an unfamiliar voice. “Nobody ever listens to me, ever!” A little boy with straight hair sticking up all over the place runs in through the garage to the kitchen. “Christian! Christian!” He hollers, tears streaming down his face. I can see what’s going on because I’m by the entrance to the hall that leads to the bathroom, but I don’t think the little kid knows I’m there.

            I observe him as carefully as I can with him moving around restlessly. He has black hair that’s messy. Kind of reminds me of my hair when I was a kid. Like the Arab-looking version of Einstein or something.

            Alicia comes back into the kitchen then, Christian in tow. The kid looks so familiar, and I’ve probably seen him at the mosque, but I can’t remember who he is. As he springs up and launches himself at Christian, it hits me. This is Eiliyah’s nephew, one of the twins.

            “Christian!” The kid wraps his arms around Christian’s neck and he gently unwraps them and places the kid on his hip to look at his face.

            “Isa, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Isa. His names clicks. Eiliyah has two nephews. One is Isa. The other is Musa. He’s the autistic one.

            “B-b-because none of them l-l-listen to me!” I’m not that great with kids, but the sheen of tears in his eyes, the dejected look on his face, coupled with his trembling bottom lip tugs at my heart. I’m trying to figure out why when someone else races inside.

            I want to groan. I don’t want to see her right now. “Isa! Do you know how much you scared me?” She sounds all out of breath and there are wisps of hair framing her face. She looks like she ran here. The minute she catches sight of Isa’s face, though, her expression softens and sadness fills her eyes too.

            I head back into the bathroom and try my best not to slam the door shut in anger and frustration. Why? I stare at myself in the mirror, at the way my knuckles are white from gripping the countertop. At the way my eyes probably look crazed. Why—and more importantly, how—does she do this? Keep invading my thoughts like this? It’s like I’m being tormented and tortured all at the same time. Punishment for every wrong thing I’ve done, which is a lot, especially lately. Some twisted decision of Fate, some sick decision to torture me by making me think about the one girl that I’ve hated for all these years.

            As I shut my eyes, all I can see is her. At how her face was identical to Isa’s as they were both sad. That’s why Isa’s sadness bothered me so much. He looks like her when he cries. God, if You’re out there, please let me stop thinking about her. I’ve hated her for so long. I can’t go back now.

            I slowly walk back out to see if she’s gone. I don’t know why, but I don’t want her to see me. Standing like the total creep she’s turned me into in a matter of seconds, I observe what’s going on in the kitchen. Isa slowly gets down from Christian’s arms and looks up at Eiliyah’s face. Then, she does something I totally don’t expect.

            She plops down on the kitchen floor so that she and Isa are near the same height. “See? Now I understand what it’s like to be you.” She says simply. Glancing up at Christian and Alicia, she bites her lip and asks quietly, “I’m sorry but do you think I could get a minute alone with him?”

            Christian nods quickly and while Alicia is confused, Christian grabs her arm and leads her to the patio. There are two ways he can get there. He can pass by me, or he can take the long way. Take the long way, take the long way. God, now I’m hiding in my best friend’s house, hiding from him. “Where’s Hamza?” Alicia whispers. If she’d asked this last time I saw her, I would have been yelling ‘hell yes!’ in my head. Now, it doesn’t even have an effect on me.

            “Bathroom, probably. Come on.” She and Christian go outside to the little patio place. To make sure I’m hidden from view, I slide down and press my back against the wall and cock my ear so I can pick up Eiliyah and Isa’s conversation.

            Why am I doing this? Because I’m insane. And we’re really late now. God, please help me. Shaking my head to distract myself from how fucked up I’m acting right now.

            “So why’d you run away, boo?” Eiliyah asks gently. There’s silence. The kid doesn’t seem to be talking. Figures. He’s probably as stubborn as Eiliyah is when she’s trying to control her emotions. “Isa?” She asks again patiently.

            “Because!” He bursts out, making even me jump. “It’s always about Musa! Musa, Musa, Musa! No one ever pays attention to me!” Little smacking sounds indicate he’s pounding the tile floor.

            “Hey, hey.” Eiliyah’s voice is a whisper, a quiet soothing hush. “It’ll be ok. Come here. Give me a hug.” After ten seconds, she talks again. “Isa, it’s hard being a twin, especially when your twin is…different. Harun can’t hear very well, but it wasn’t always like that. It happened when we were maybe five, and at the time everyone was so worried and scared. Zubair, Zaid, and your mom all had to grow up really fast. And nobody paid attention to me either. Do you get what I’m trying to say?” She sounds unsure, more unsure than I’ve ever heard her. I don’t know why, but I always just assumed she knew what she was doing all the time. She just had that confidence to her.

            “But it’s gonna be okay, Isa, okay? We’re in this together, because we’re both twins…and we have twin powers!” The smack of a high-five. I feel like laughing. Only Eiliyah would come up with the idea of twin powers.

            “Okay.” That’s Isa’s meek reply.

            “Okay! Now come on, boo. Let’s go back and see if Musa is better.”

            “When are Mommy and Daddy going to be back?”

            “Tonight. They’ll join us for dinner. But right now we need to make sure Musa has recovered from his seizure. And Harun will be worrying about where we are.” I think they stand up then. Some shuffling. “Christian!” Eiliyah shouts. A minute later, Christian appears.

            “Yeah?”

            “We’re going now. Sorry and thank you.” I suddenly have the biggest urge to see her face, to see if she’s smiling at him with that weird crooked smile of hers. Some whispered conversation. Footsteps. A door opens and shuts. Silence.

            I make my way out. Christian is standing in the kitchen looking at whatever is simmering on the stove and shaking his head. “Yo, man, you ready?”

            He turns around in surprise. “Where have you been?”

            “Bathroom. Then got held up on the phone. Come on, we gotta get going. The guys are waiting for us at the skate park.”

            Christian nods. “Alicia! Ven aquí!” Alicia walks into the kitchen and takes over. Christian looks back at me and jerks his head. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

            We head out to the garage. “Thanks for the flan, Alicia.” I toss over my shoulder.

            “Bye!” She waves at us while stirring something on the stove. “Be safe. Love you.” She tosses this casually over her shoulder, and I know she’s either addressing Christian or me or both of us. Her face didn’t hold any special emotion. She said it without thinking much about it; I could tell. But just a year ago, maybe even six months ago, it would have been totally different. I would have not been able to stop thinking about her. But all the stuff that happened these past six months…damn.

            I’m in deep and I don’t know if I can get out. Alicia is just a reminder that my past and my present are disconnected from each other. The scary part? I don’t know when it’ll all go back to normal. I have a bad feeling the answer is never.

            The skate park is this huge open area with ramps, tunnels, and the sickest curves of all time. When I was in middle school, I used to come here all the time with Christian. We haven’t gone since high school started, and although I sound like a total pussy admitting this, excitement builds up in my body as we pull into the tiny parking lot.

            I pop open the trunk and grab my old skateboard and Christian’s as well. Mine is midnight black with a skull in the center. The wheels are old and grey from the dirt they’ve picked up over the years. “I see them over there.” Christian jerks his head over to where the guys are all in a group talking. Some have already started to skate, but as I observe them, I can’t help the smirk that spreads on my face. They all suck in comparison to me.

            “Yo, Musa-Ali. Christian. What up?” Omar gives us a head nod and I return it. After some talking, we all set out on the ramps. As the wind blows through my air, I feel something I realize I haven’t felt for a while: happiness. As one foot rests on the back of the board and the other pushes down and I do a 360 flip, a wave of nostalgia hits me. That was a vocabulary word in seventh grade too. I miss being a kid like this.

            Before I get too depressed, I go through the steeper ramps, pushing myself to the next level. “Hamza, calm down, bro. You haven’t done this in a while.” Christian, the forever logical one, warns me. Does he not realize that at this point, the nostalgia and the longing for being a kid again have left me intoxicated? I don’t give a shit. I need to forget. I need to not think or feel anything. After I wipe out on one of the ramps and sit down for a while under a tree, I begin to think about everything, but one person in particular: Eiliyah.

            Who is she to me? AZ hands me a Red Bull he got from the cooler in his car. I open it wordlessly and start chugging as I feel the energy rush slowly come on. I grab my board and head back to the ramps. Christian warns me a few times but I’m not even listening.

            I don’t think about her again, at least not until I make a plan. This year, senior year, I’m going to piss the hell out of her and drive her over the edge until she can’t take it anymore. I don’t know why I’m doing this. Hell, I don’t know why I do things ninety percent of the time.

            The feel of the moment overtakes me and I head back to the ramps, ready to challenge fate to hurt me, ready to win.

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