Chapter 1- Aliya

  Aliya

  June 14, 2014

Santa Rosa, CA, USA

    

   I see him in the distance walking towards me. I felt like I haven't seen him forever. I've been so busy lately. I've barely had any time to myself, but I miss him so much.

   He walks past the old classrooms to come to me. My boyfriend and I always meet up at my old middle school since he lives less than a block away from it. I don't mind because it doesn't matter where we are, as long as I get to see him. My mom thinks it's strange that he never wants to meet up anywhere else. He never wants to come to my house either. He's only been once, but he never came back and told me that he honestly never wanted to come back. It still puzzles me to this day why he said that.

   "Hi." he says and hugs me. I hug him back. We stay like that for a while. I've really missed him and I could tell that he's missed me too.

   "I've missed you, Jose." I look into his dark, brown eyes. His dark caramel skin makes his black hair stand out.

   As he hugs me again, my head lays right over his heart.

   "I've missed you too, Aliya."

   My phone starts to ring. He lets go of me so I can take it out. I look at who's calling and it's Gabriel. He's my best friend's, Francisco's, older brother. It's very strange since he never calls me.

   "I have to take this." I tell Jose.

   "Go ahead." he sighs impatiently. I ignore it.

   "Hello." I answer it.

   "Hey Aliya, I have some bad news." he sounds like he's panicking.

   "What's wrong?!" I ask nervously.

   "Francisco...he's...I don't know how to say this." he sounds really sad.

   "Gabriel, calm down. Take a deep breath." I say calmly despite my racing heart beat.

   "Francisco's dead." I stand in place for a few seconds frozen. I don't look up at Jose or pay attention to the world moving around me. I feel like I'm frozen in time. One of the few people who have been there for me most of my life is dead?! I can't process this. No! Gabriel's pulling a prank. That's it!

   "You're joking." I say in a very plain voice, half-hoping that he really is joking.

   "I really wish I was, Aliya. I wish."

   "H-h-how did he die?" I stutter, trying to hold my tears back.

   "He hung himself in his closet. My mom came home an hour ago and discovered the horrible scene. I wish it wasn't her who saw it. I can't imagine a mother ever seeing her son dead." he sounds like he's trying to hold back tears too.

   "No, I can't imagine your mom seeing that either. What I'm wondering is..." I wait a few seconds and look up to the sky, "Why would he commit suicide?".

   "I...I don't know. He seemed fine. Did he say anything when you two last talked?" I think in my mind to yesterday when I last talked to him. He told me all about how happy he was about Rosa, his girlfriend, and how thankful he was to have her. He's the last person I thought of to do something like this, especially because of how happy he was. It doesn't add up to me.

   I explain to Gabriel all that we talked about yesterday. I don't leave any detail out.

   "Well, no one was in the house because there was no trace of anyone. So no one killed him. I just don't understand why he would do this! He seemed fine!"

   "I know. It's so weird. Have you told Joaquin?" Joaquin is Francisco's and my best friend.

   "No, I'm going to call him now. I'll call you later tonight about funeral plans, ok?"

   "Ok, Gabriel. Stay strong."

   "You too, Aliya. You were practically his little sister."

   "Yeah, you're right. Call me later."

   "I will. Bye." I say. I hang up. I sink myself to the ground and put my hands over my face. All of the tears start to pour out. My life isn't whole anymore. It never will be. I remember the first day we met so vividly...

   I moved into a house on Daffodil Lane off of Santa Rosa Avenue. I was about five years old at the time.

   The house was a light brown color, almost the color of chocolate, with two small bedrooms, one bathroom right in the center, a small kitchen combined with a family room, and a tiny living room. It was a duplex, so the house was connected to another house. It was small, but we made do since my parents were starting out with new jobs and I was the only child at the time.

   While my family was helping my parents move stuff into our new house, I was playing with my toys on our front yard. All of the sudden, I felt a tap on my right shoulder. I turned around and a boy about my age or a little bit older was standing behind me. He had a full head of black hair, tan skin, and dark brown eyes.

   "Hi." he said and smiled. 

   "Hi." I replied and smiled back.

   "My name's Joaquin. I live in the house connected to yours." he pointed to the house next to mine.

   "I'm Aliya."

   "I'm six. How old are you?"

   "I'm five."

   "Want to be friends?"

   "Sure." From then on, we both became good friends. Right after we became friends, another boy around our age approached us. He had black hair and dark brown eyes too, but his skin was more of a caramel color.

   "Hi, Francisco." Joaquin smiled at him.

   "Hey Joaquin. Who's this?" Francisco asked him and then smiled at me.

   "This is Aliya. She just moved into the house next to mine."

   "Hi, Aliya. I'm Francisco. I live in this house." he pointed to the first house that started the next duplex next to Joaquin's and my duplex. So, technically he lived next to me too.

   "Hi, Francisco." I said smiling at him.

   "Want to be friends?" Thus, he ended up becoming one of my good friends as well. I found out that he was seven years old and that both Francisco and Joaquin were Mexican.

  

   "What's wrong, baby?" I hear Jose ask me as I cry.

   "Francisco's d-d-dead." I manage to say. I expect Jose to sit down beside me and hug me, but that doesn't happen.

   "So? He's dead. Everyone dies eventually. Every day someone has their life taken away from them." he says coldly. It makes me want to cry even more knowing that the person I love doesn't even care that I'm in pain.

   I look up at him not caring what my appearance looks like at this point. I know for a fact that all of my makeup is running down my cheeks.

   "Wow! Really, Jose?!" I yell at him. I can't believe that this is coming from someone who lost his grandpa a year ago.

   "It's true."

   "Francisco was my best friend! He was the best friend anyone could have!"

   "You know he hated me though. I never knew why." That's true. Francisco always had a grudge against Jose. He didn't even know why he had it.

   "That doesn't matter right now!" I put my hands together and cup them. I start making dua, asking God to watch over Francisco and to put him into Heaven. Since I'm a Muslim, this is how I pray.

   "Now you're doing that Islam s**t. Get over it! You're still here! You'll forget about him!" I look at him with the dirtiest look that I've ever given anyone in my entire life.

   "I'm leaving! I'm done! We're through! I've taken all of your s**t, but this crosses the line!"

   "Fine! F**k you!" he walks away in the direction of his house. I immediately delete his contact on my phone and then call my mom to come pick me up. I don't need a person like that in my life. Why did I even love him anyway? He treated me like I was a pile of dirt. Good riddance!

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

"I put my hands together and cup them. I start making dua, asking God to watch over Francisco and to put him into Heaven. Since I'm a Muslim, this is how I pray."
I like the above lines a lot. Gave the story balance and reason. I like the set-up of the story leading to the sad ending. Thank you for sharing the excellent chapter.
Coyote

[Rhonda]

Thank you very much for the positive feedback. I hope you read more as I publish more chapters