Under That Scarf (Editing)

7. Victor

Reader Discretion is advised for this chapter as it discusses a story of abuse very briefly. However it may be a trigger for those who've been through a similar situation so I thought I should mention it beforehand.

—

Tuesday, 12:45am

"Let me get this straight, you and Al were baking and with your magical spoon decided to take it up a notch and wreck the entire kitchen?" Zaid asks while standing at the entrance with a gallon of Oreo ice cream in hand.

"Correct."

"No Aliyah incorrect. Now could you move please, I'm trying to clean the lamp."

"No you move, I need to mop this area."

"Oh my God." Jamila glares at her cousin who starts mopping her foot. "Could you be more annoying?" Aliyah grins wickedly and finally moves. After Harun left, the family got to talking about what a gentleman he is. Even baba was taken up by his mannerisms! He chewed his food slowly, he didn't talk while eating, he didn't laugh boisterously, he listened attentively...

Jamila couldn't stop blushing at the thought of him even if she tried and Aliyah didn't let it go unnoticed either. She begged her cousin to drop the subject for the time being and after a dramatic sigh Aliyah obliged.

Her mother didn't fail to mention his honorable service to her brothers either. They had returned from work ten minutes after Harun left, Abdullah bought takeout and everyone sat in the living room to devour it.

Her mother gushed about his refusal to accept any money to which Abdullah frowned and Zaid... He was expressionless actually. Jamila guessed it was his way of saying, I feel like there's more to this and I'm not going to jump to any conclusions. She felt grateful that the only person who knew how she felt was Aliyah.

I shouldn't overreact. I mean nothing happened.

Nothing.

The family talked and shared memories but that's as far as it went. Yes, he's smart, intelligent and kind. He's been through a lot, I mean I can't imagine losing my father a day after I've graduated! But somehow Harun persevered and made something of him himself. That's admirable, right?

Khala Maryam simply admitted to eavesdropping on the whole conversation, apologized for dropping one of the jugs and continued licking the leftover icing on her plate. Jamila was speechless at her brutally honest confession.

The family wrapped up the left over food; the mothers' stayed in the living room to discuss remaining wedding preparations for Aliyah, the men retired to their rooms and the girls stayed in the kitchen to eat more cake. They chatted about the plans for applying henna before the Nikah.

"Remember when Abdullah dipped a strawberry in the henna thinking it was chocolate?" 

"He was like, this strawberry tastes funny." Jamila imitated her brother's voice.

"He was such a dork!" Aliyah wheezed. The girls giggled at the memory until Aminah whizzed into the kitchen with a deathly glare. They immediately sobered up and began cleaning again. Of course with the countless distractions like Zaid's midnight snack search and commentary on their mess, the time taken to do the dishes alone had doubled and now nearly five hours later they're done.

The kitchen is spotless. Finally.

"I feel like I've been run over by a bus." Aliyah cries.

"Me too."

—

Wednesday, 8:56am

Assalamu Alaykum! Gurl where are you?! Shabna texts her. She's one of the counselors at the Bloom clinic whom Jamila befriended.

Wa Alaykum Salam, I'm nearby!

Okay, your 9 o'clock is here.

Noted. Thanks.

Jamila types hastily while waiting at the red light. As soon as it changes color, her Honda zooms into the parking lot. She sprints to the elevator and makes it to the clinic in record time.

She pants and races to the Lounge. It's the place where all the Counselors, Doctors, interns and volunteers gather for meetings and discussions. The large room is compartmentalized to have desks at different angles and each person gets one. Since Jamila's the addition to the team, she isn't assigned a desk yet.

She places her side bag on the blue couch she usually occupies, she grabs her special notebook and heads straight to Room Two. It's her favorite room. I secretly wish it could be my office.

"Hello there." Jamila smiles at her client, Amy. She's a bright sixteen year old who has unfortunately been sexually abused by one of her uncles. The young girl is distraught, hurt and angry at what's happened. When she signed up for therapy, the team at Bloom thought Jamila's Masters in Counseling and experience working with adolescents would better facilitate Amy's recovery.

This is the reward for volunteer work I guess. You get to use that experience and knowledge to serve others and help them through their past.

Thankfully her uncle pleaded guilty and received 25 years of jail time without the possibility of parole for the molestation of a minor.

Then again, what are 25 years of prison compared to a lifetime of trauma and hurt? What if he dies before that? Jamila thought.

Jamila conveyed her enthusiasm when Dr. Adrienne handed her Amy's file and assessment. She bought a brand new leather notebook which she mentally promised herself to fill in with observations and the like.

"How are you doing today?" They enter Room Two and the coziness envelopes Jamila. A plush couch is aligned to the wall, it's lathered with pillows and a blush pink blanket, Amy trudges over to it. A single chair is angled towards the couch and Jamila takes her place there. Overspread the wall are frames with different artsy images; it's refined and elegant. A desk is tucked to the side with shelves and books to accompany it.

"I'm alright."

"How do you feel about being here? It's your first actual session." Her tone is calm and she maintains eye contact. The blonde haired teenager leans into her seat and nods slowly.

"I feel... weird. I mean, I'm... I..." she trails off and stares at the wall behind Jamila. "I've never opened up about it before. I don't like talking about my feelings."

"Why is that?"

"I don't... I guess I don't trust anyone." She plays with the hem of her t-shirt.

"What about your parents?"

"I trust them enough but... I don't... It's just..." She takes a deep breath. Her blue eyes are cast down and tears slip down her cheeks. She grabs a Kleenex and wipes them harshly. "Sorry, I hate crying in front of people." Jamila stays silent. "God this is embarrassing." Amy lets out a humorless laugh.

"Take your time." She wasn't expecting that type of reaction but she'll take what she can get. Alhamdulillah. As long as we can get somewhere with this. She needs to win her trust and make her more comfortable. "You can cry as much as you want." She reassures.

"Okay..." She sniffs.

"Tell me what you're feeling at this very moment." Amy blinks thoughtfully.

"Sad." That's a start.

"Hmm, keep going."

"Uh... Angry, really angry." Jamila nods emphatically. "Betrayed, violated..." She shakes her head. "It sucks."

We're going to overcome this situation to gather.

You're not going to be a victim.

You're going to be a victor.

—

Suffering from writer's block.