Maha

I was trying to play it cool and drop the subject. But Yusha is relentless. And sort of tactless. This isn't a mystery game. Something he can have a shot at resolving.

You'd think ten years is adequate time to get over a tragedy. Time heals pain, they say. But, no. I don't think we heal. I think we just get used to it.

If I dwell on the incident for too long I get choked up. And it's usually ensued by migraine and insomnia.

Now, what? Yusha wants me to go through it all over again?

Huh. Not happening, bruh.

"You think I'm bluffing about investigating the case without some sort of evidence?" He says, as I start to leave to leave.

I swivel around. "If you have evidence then follow the damn procedure. Show them to the police instead of trying to act cool."

"I told you, I don't trust them." He says frostily.

"But you trust me?" I snort.

Yusha shrugs and says, with a vague air of smugness, "I'm a good judge of character."

"Right." I drawl dryly.

"Besides, he was your brother. Who else can I go to who was close to him like you were?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "How do you know I was very close to him?"

"Ah, well... you told me!"

"I did?" I used to be very careful not to boast about the kind of awesome bond Wissam and I shared in case I jinx it.

"Back in middle school! Yeah!"

I resume my seat across from him and sigh resignedly. "Fine. Let's hear what you've got."

"I think you've got to see it rather than hear it."

I frown and Yusha smirks.

Yusha pulls out his phone from his trouser pocket. "Before the... incident," He starts to say while leisurely tapping on his phone, "I didn't know my sister was into photography." The smirk on his faced drops. "That day, I went to borrow a guide book from her room. I had accidentally knocked down a camera from her shelf that I didn't know was kept there. I picked it up and turned it on while fumbling with the buttons, then I came across all these photos. Photos of the sky, of stray cats and dogs, of New York city, of... you."

"Me?" I blink, surprised, "But why would...?

"I know, right? I was just as surprised." Yusha slides his phone across the table toward me.

I pick it up and squint at its screen. I zoom the image.

Sure enough, there was a scrawny girl in a red tee in the pic; although the photographer had captured her side profile, her features look a lot like mine when I was still a preteen. Even her hair is the same blunt cut.

"Swipe to see more." Yusha says.

The second image is of the girl balancing a football on her right shoulder. This time, I have to admit that the girl is me because of the ball. Wissam had drawn a big 'W&M' on it with a red permanent marker. I still have it, although now it's totally deflated.

I clench my teeth, swallow hard, and swipe again.

The third image has Wissam in it. I'm guessing it's from another day because I'm wearing different clothes. The camera had captured the moment Wissam and I were about to high-five.

The fourth pic is of Wissam alone. But, unlike the previous pics, this is a close up. Wissam is looking straight at the camera, a startled expression on his face.

Half of the fifth pic is the face of a girl. Her face is alight with a radiant smile, flaunting perfect white teeth. Her amber eyes held a mischievous glint. There is someone a few paces behind her, his hand sticking out in front of him, blocking his face partially. Wissam.

I swipe for more, but that's the last pic.

I drop the phone on the table and look at Yusha, confused and unable to think.

"What... what's the meaning of this?"

"That's what I'd like to know. I planned to ask Yamira about them, but, as it turned out, I never got the chance. Everyone keeps saying they were simply classmates." Yusha leans forward, resting his arms on the table, he raises an eyebrow and asks, "What do you think?"

"I... I don't know." I gulp. "Are you saying no-one else knows about these photos?"

"I showed them to my father... and the police; they couldn't take in seriously. Especially since, your brother's wasn't the only guy's picture in the camera. As it appeared, Yamira used to hang out with a bunch of people in and out of school. She was... popular."

"Then why are you taking it seriously?"

"Because I care." Yusha says simply. "After Yamira went missing, my father put on a show of concern and anguish. But, after a while, he's like... good riddance." Yusha notes the look on my face and chuckles. "Yamira wasn't the kind of daughter a typical self-respecting, high profile man would want."

I remember how Rayman described her.

She was an acquired taste. Some admired her brazenness. Others were intimidated by her audacity. She once came to school with her hair dyed rainbow! Damn, what a sight! Compared to every other girl at school, she was on a whole other level.

"I'm guessing she was quite eccentric." I say.

"That's one word for her." Then Yusha shifts on his seat and clears his throat lightly. "Hey. Look, don't misunderstand. Just because I've showed you these pictures doesn't mean I'm insinuating that your brother-"

"Did something to Yamira?" I finish for him.

"Yeah. I'm sorry if it sounded like that the other day."

Suddenly, I feel a surge of embarrassment. "Sorry about your shirt."

Yusha shrugs, like someone spills drinks on him every other day and that it's no biggie.

"It gave me an excuse to leave the party early." He says, grinning a little.

"Why do you distrust the police?" I ask, averting my eyes from the tiny dimple on his cheek.

"I would tell you, but not here. It's too public. Uh... why don't you come by my office some time tomorrow? Or whenever you're free again."

"I'm busy with basketball practice these days because of the oncoming tournament. I'll see if I can." I say, trying not to seem eager.

"Great. Um, in the meantime," Yusha clasps and unclasps and again clasps his hands, "if it's not asking too much, can you try to remember if your brother ever mentioned Yamira to you? No pressure." He adds, quickly.

"Alright. But don't have high expectations."

"Thanks." He smiles gratefully. "Oh, and by the way,"

"What now?"

"It's nice to see you again too. I mean it."

<>

"Maha, is that you?" Pop calls from the kitchen.

"Yeah!" I say, dumping my umbrella into the umbrella stand.

"Did you have lunch?"

"Yep! Tan and I got us pizza at Lucali." I report.

"Okay!"

I start to traipse up to my room but stop. Wait a minute.

I stride into the kitchen. "Dad, why aren't you at work?"

"I wasn't feeling too well so I clocked out early." He answers casually, while stirring something in a mug. "I'm all right now. Alhamdulillah."

"Is it your diabetes?" I ask anxiously. "You should've called me! Or texted me! What if you collapsed like that other time?" A couple months ago, Pop had to be hospitalized after he fainted for overworking himself.

"It wasn't anything too serious."

"Next time, text me even if you're feeling remotely unwell." I say in a rebuking tone.

Pop assumes an upright position. "Yes, boss."

I shut my bedroom door behind me and fling myself on my bed, my thoughts in a disarray.

When I screw my eyes close, the images from Yusha's phone pop up in my mind.

Don't stress over it. Don't stress over it. I mentally chant.

I grab one of the stuffed cushions and hug it.

...can you try to remember if your brother ever mentioned Yamira to you?

Jolting up from the bed, I throw open the doors of my closet and crouch down. I heft the heavy, plastic storage box pushed to one side on the floor and pull off its red lid. Inside are gold and silver medals, diaries, yearbooks from my middle school and high school. At the bottom are two fat clear-bags; one blue and the other yellow. The blue one is labeled 'Mellow Ridge' with a black sharpie.

I pull out it's contents and sieve through the stack of sports certificates, school newsletters and other stuff for the next twenty minutes or so, until I find the sheet of paper I'm looking for. There is a red A circled at the top.

__________

2004

"Hey, chipmunk." Wissam poked his head into Maha's room. "Whatcha doing?"

Maha was sprawled on her bed, listlessly twirling a pencil, an open notebook lying idle next to her. She watched drearily as Wissam walked over, traversing past all the crumpled up papers littering the floor, and flopped down on her bed.

"Homework?" Wissam surmised, and Maha grunted in response. "Can I help?"

"Pleeease." Maha drawled wearily. "I've been struggling with this English essay for the last two hours. My brain is all over the place."

Maha's a brother made a sympathetic face. "What's the topic?"

"'Write about an incident based on the phrase don't judge a book by it's cover.'"

"And it's due tomorrow?"

"Nah. Next week."

Wissam arched an eyebrow as if so say, since when did you start taking homework so seriously?, to which Maha rolled her eyes.

"Annual Sports Day is next week and heats is day after tomorrow. I won't have time to worry about homework later." Maha explained. "It's important 'cause it'll be graded alongside a test we gave a few days back. I didn't do too well on it."

They were silent for a some time.

"Maha, I might know someone who may be able to you."

Maha perked up. "Who?"

"Uh, a friend of mine has a brother who goes to your school."

"Oh? Is he in my grade?"

"He's two years older. He's kind of a lone wolf, but my friend says he's actually pretty cool if you get to know him better. Why don't you meet him?"

"You're asking me to befriend a guy?" Maha asked in a tone of disbelief. "That's new."

"He's older so it might me tough." Wissam says, nodding diplomatically. "I'll understand if you think you can't."

Maha let out a low whistle. "Challenge accepted. I'm making this boy my best-friend and I'm acing this essay. Let's wager five ice-cream popsicles."

"Deal." Wissam outstretched his hand and Maha grasped it confidently. "Don't cry if you have to spend all your pocket-money."

"Don't get jealous if he takes your place." Maha shot back.