Kara
After days of ignoring my brother’s calls, I decided that the next time he texted or called, I’d pick up. He was blowing up my phone and well, he was also bothering my roommate.
Anissa’s light hazel eyes winked, “Your brother’s cute.”
“Ugh.” I slumped my shoulders on the love seat and stretched my legs, kicking off the sandals I’d been wearing for most of the day. “He stopped by?”
“Yes.” Her pearly white teeth showed along with the dimples on her cheeks, “He talked to me for a few minutes and he apologized because he had to hurry to practice, but he also brought an ice cream cake.”
Rikko knew my weakness was ice cream and cake. Whoever concocted the ice cream cake was the devil. I could gorge on it for hours even to the point of a stomach ache.
“What kind?” I asked, still laying on the couch as if my life depended on it.
“You want me to look?” She said rather enthusiastically. We’d only met less than a week ago, but I already knew that she was my soul sister. I couldn’t wait to chat to Hanna about her. Hanna had been so busy helping plan her sister’s wedding and staying in college that we hadn’t had the time to talk these past couple of days.
“Since you’re already standing and I won’t be able to stand for another day or two, please, do me the honors.” I spread my hands in the air, giving permission.
Anissa laughed and trekked to the kitchen a few steps away.
I could see her opening the freezer and her bright purple hijab glowed against the sun streaming from outside to our kitchen.
“Oohhh, it says green tea and passion fruit on the label.” Her voice was excited. Clearly, she liked one or both of the flavors.
“I love green tea,” I sighed. “But I still hate my brother.”
“Friend, you’re going to have to forgive him soon,” Anissa said, while she balanced the cake and plastic forks and small paper plates with both of her hands. “Or you’re going to gain the junior fifteen with all the treats he’s bringing over.”
“Is there such a thing as junior fifteen? I thought it was only freshman fifteen?” I raised my brows, challenging her statement.
“Hmm…” She said as she took a bite of the ice cream cake from her plate. “There’s sophomore fifteen, junior fifteen. Basically, you can gain fifteen pounds any time you’re in college.”
“How would you know?” I said as I took a bite of the cake. Heavenly. Ugh. Now I really had to forgive Rikko. “You don’t look like you gained any weight from these treats.”
“Girl, why do you think I cover up my body like this?” Pointing to her colorful robe as her hazel eyes were filled with humor. “It’s because I don’t want to have anyone check me out with all the flab I’ve accumulated here in San Diego.”
I almost choked on my laughter. She was funny. Really funny.
The first time I met her, I was caught by surprise.
Not because she was wearing hijab or because she was Muslim.
I was surprised with the words that came out of her mouth.
She’d made an offhanded comment about how Nutella was the creation of Satan’s spawns to rule the world and from there, she’d gained my trust.
And I knew from that day that I’d treasure her friendship and protect it from my mother’s claws.
I grew up in the greeneries of Southlake, Texas surrounded by English Tudors and Mediterranean-styled homes where my friends looked the same as me – blonde, eyes that reflected our heritage, and skin that burned at the slightest hint of sun.
In third grade, I met this girl with curly hair, light brown eyes and whose skin didn’t even blush at the height of the afternoon sun. My friends Dana and Ash called her weird, but all I saw was her kindness and forgiving nature when she didn’t rat Dana out to Ms. Phillips after Dana had pulled her hair. Later that afternoon, I gave Dana and Ash their friendship bracelets back and I introduced myself to the new girl who was waiting on the school steps for her parents to pick her up.
From that day on, she became my best friend.
From that day on, I’d defended my friendship with her to my mother, the woman who was crowned Miss Louisiana when she was in her early 20s.
I’m not deluded.
Delusions were easy to get rid of once you’d broken away from the mold.
When I looked in the mirror, I saw blue eyes, blonde hair, a svelte figure and an ample chest courtesy of my genes.
I’d heard my mother’s disappointment of having me as her daughter throughout my teenage years because I didn’t abide by her wishes.
Why can’t my daughter be like your daughter, Brooke?
Why can’t she go study ballet?
Why can’t she compete for Miss Teen Texas?
Why is my daughter engrossed with Science rather than enjoy her time with young men her age?
Why does she always want to hang out with her brother instead of me?
Why doesn’t her father let me cut off her college funds? She doesn’t have to go to college, she could marry Marks’ son and she’d be set for life.
It’s her grandmother’s fault, that old biddy, for putting all these wild thoughts of racial inequality and social justice in her mind.
My dad had let me roam the streets in rompers and jeans when my mother was away with her friends on a cruise to Alaska.
My brother had let me ride bikes and explore the mountains when Mom was at high society functions in Connecticut.
I was blessed with what I had. I loved my mother, but I didn’t have to agree with her. In my dad’s eyes, she’d always be the Southern Belle who moved to Texas for him, and he’d give her everything she wanted which was why he’d often negotiate with me so it would look as if Mom got her way.
When I turned eighteen, she held a debutante ball for me.
As her only daughter, I capitulated but only because Dad promised me I could go to any college I wanted.
So I learned the Texas Dip in record time and even managed to be cordial to her friends.
Mom has somewhat accepted my friendship with Hanna, maybe it had to a lot with Hanna hanging out around the house a lot or maybe it had to do with Hanna’s dad coaching the number one offense in the NFL, but I could care less.
I watched Anissa as she took another bite of the delicious cold dessert and I knew that my mother wouldn’t accept her.
My eyes may be as blue as my mother’s, but my heart wasn’t as closed off as hers.
My mom would view Anissa as a woman who wasted America’s resources since she didn’t hold any regard for the country simply because she believed in Islam.
But all I saw was a college girl, like me, laughing, smiling, enjoying a simple dessert, and trying to make the world a better place by not judging me by my looks either.
“You’re right, Anissa,” I said, still grinning at the ridiculous faces she was making. “I need to forgive my brother.”
A big smile appeared on her lips and it brightened her face, exaggerating her beautiful features. I knew that she wanted me to be at peace with my brother, a guy she’d only met a few days ago.
Like me, she only wanted peace and harmony.
Why couldn’t people see how alike we are instead of spotlighting the differences between us?
I wish I knew the answer to this age-old question.
Because maybe if I did, I would also know why my brain kept going back to the guy in my Quantum Mechanics class.
Anissa let out a yelp, “Is that a cockroach? Or a spider?”
Oops.
I stood up and grabbed the small black prototype, “No…it’s ah, one of my experiments. I’m trying to see if I could create something small to move through really tiny spaces. I’ve been working on it and I’m still trying to find out what I can equip it with so it will also hold a camera and sensors.”
Her face was still scrunched up in disgust. “I thought I was weird. Science girl, you’re weirder than me.”
I pushed my fork forward in the air, “Let’s toast our weirdness.”
She clinked her fork to my fork, and that was how our beautiful friendship started.