over with tears as she contemplated the safety of the children.
“I’ll… I’ll do whatever you ask. Just don’t…”
“Hurt the children?” Angel finished her plea. “We already discussed that.” Angel pulled out her cell phone and handed the teacher the phone.
“Dial this number.”
Rahman closed his cell phone. He did it without emotion, without words, and without choice. He had no choices because Angel had left him none. He listened to the Muslim sister’s trembling voice.
“Brother, Angel is here,” the teacher said as tears streamed down her cheek. She finished reading the note Angel had passed her. “She has a gun and there are nine little girls here.”
Then Angel got on the line and finished. “I know you won’t call the police, but if you’ve changed that much, you know the consequences. Come alone and unarmed, one hour, your life for theirs. A minute late, start subtracting from nine. You bring a gun, I’ll kill them with it.”
Click.
Rahman resigned himself to his fate. The game was over and Angel had won.
Angel had laid at his feet his entire cause, represented by nine little Muslim girls, the ultimate sacrifice.
Anyone could live for the cause, kill for the cause, even die for the cause in the heat of battle. But to be asked to trade your life for another’s when you could sit safely at home was what separated the faithful from the false.
Rahman recited the Qur’anic verse over and over again in his mind. There was nothing he would not do for a cause that involved Islam. Nothing.
Rahman didn’t hesitate. He had to do what he had to do. Only one obstacle remained. His family.
Rahman grimaced over what he had to say to Ayesha. Could he just kiss her and walk out, leaving her with the impression that he’d be back, and then go to Angel, never to return?
It would be a lie, and their relationship had never been based on lies. Of all the blood he had shed, lives he had ruined, and money he had made, he never lied to Ayesha about anything. She had stayed with him through thick and thin, through his wickedness, his incarceration, and his rebirth, each time sacrificing a part of herself to accommodate his intentions. All she ever asked in return was his love and support. All she wanted was for him to be a good father to their three children. She would sacrifice for her family. She already had.
Didn’t Ayesha and his children deserve his presence? Hadn’t he put them through enough? How could he leave his children fatherless, taking life from them to give to nine more? What if he didn’t go?
He shook off the cowardly thought because he realized he had created the situation. If he didn’t go, blood would surely be on his hands.
He had no choice.
Rahman rose from his stupor and went into the bathroom to make wudu for prayer, his last prayer. He unfolded his prayer rug and stood before his Lord to offer the two ra’kahs of prayer Muslims do before imminent death.
He bowed and fell on his face. As he prayed, tears lined his face and wet his beard. He cried not out of fear of death but because he had failed.
As he prayed, Ayesha came to ask him to go to the store to get some milk. She found him in prayer, sobbing hard, and it made her want to go to him and embrace him. Instead, she waited by the door until he was finished.
“Baby, are you okay?” she asked.
He couldn’t even look her in the face. She approached him and touched his shoulder.
“We’re out of milk. I wanted you to go to the store for me,” she said, not knowing what else to say.
Rahman wrapped his arms around her waist and cried against her stomach. The force of his tears ran down Ayesha’s cheeks and they cried as one even though she didn’t know what she was crying about. She held her husband’s head nervously. She had never seen him cry like this before and couldn’t imagine what had caused him to be so emotional.
Rahman rose to his full height and continued to hold Ayesha tightly. Finally, he said, “I… have to go.”
The way he said “go” she knew it wasn’t the type of go she had heard before. It made her search his eyes frantically for answers.
“Rahman, what do you mean ‘go’? Go where? Where do you have to go?”
“Ayesha, something has happened that… that I can’t stop and I can’t let it go on either,” he said, trying to explain rationally what her emotions would never allow her to understand.
“No! No, Rahman! Wherever it is, whatever it is, no! You can’t go!” she said, trembling, fearing the worse.
“Ayesha…”
“Then I’m going, too! If you go, I’m going, and the children are going. We’re all going, Rahman.”
Ayesha was hysterical. Her instincts told her that something terrible was threatening to rip their lives apart.
He grabbed her arms with force and shook her, hoping to make her understand.
“Nine little girls, Ayesha. Nine little girls are going to die unless I do! If I don’t go, they die! Do you understand? I have to go!”
Ayesha would hear none of it. She wrapped her arms around his neck like a vise.
“You promised me, Rahman! You promised me you wouldn’t leave me! What about that? You can’t leave me now, leave us,” Ayesha pleaded selfishly.
“Ayesha, please. There’s nothing I can do. Please. Don’t make it harder for me. Don’t let the kids hear us,” he pleaded softly, but Ayesha was in hysteria’s grip.
“No! They will hear if that’ll keep you here! Ali! Aminah! Anisa!” she yelled, tearing herself from Rahman’s arms and running into the living room.
“Ayesha!”
Rahman followed her into the living room.
“Go to your father! Go to Abu and tell him not to go! Tell him not to leave us!” Ayesha cried from the depths of her soul.
The children understood nothing but their mother’s tears. They ran and wrapped their little bodies around Rahman’s legs and each other.
“Abu? Where are you going? Don’t go. Please!”
“Abu, don’t leave us!”
“Daddy!”
The chorus of young pleas tore Rahman in two pieces, father and man.
“Tell them, Rahman. Tell them! You tell them where you’re going!” Ayesha screamed. She fell to her knees, pleading and praying. “Nine little girls… but what about your own three? You can die for strangers but you can’t live for your own family?”
Rahman knew if he didn’t pull himself away he’d never leave. He hugged and kissed his begging, wet-faced babies and embraced his wife for the last time.
“How could you do this to me, Rahman? How?” she repeatedly asked as he rocked her in his arms.
“I’ll meet you in Paradise. Insha Allah,” he said before pulling away, leaving his children wrapped in their mother’s arms, not knowing why their daddy was leaving.
Rahman looked at them once more and said a silent prayer for their protection. Then he was gone.
Nina pulled up to her house and climbed out of the car. It was still morning but the sun was already scorching.
She looked at the For Sale sign on her lawn. This was the first home she had ever purchased and she couldn’t believe she was selling it. She never thought she’d move. She never thought this wouldn’t be home. Luckily, the market was strong with the low interest rates and the house had sold within ninety days after being placed on the
