Cryptocurrency is Deek’s last chance to succeed in life, and he will not stop, no matter what.
Previous Chapters: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13
“Verily, Allah does not look at your appearance or your wealth, but He looks at your hearts and your deeds.” — Prophet Muḥammad ﷺ (Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim)
An Unspoken Promise
Driving his Corvette, Deek bought two backpacks at a sports store. Remembering Zaid’s habit of always carrying a knife – or two – he decided to emulate him. After the kidnapping, he never wanted to be caught unaware or unarmed again. So he purchased a gorgeous fixed-blade hunting knife with a hardwood handle and an 8-inch engraved Damascus steel blade that swept up to a point. It came with an attractive leather sheath decorated with sunrise motifs.
This type of knife, the clerk explained, could not legally be concealed. It must be worn openly. Outside the store, Deek ran his belt through the sheath’s loop. The knife hung heavy on his hip, as deadly as a rattlesnake. It was an unspoken promise and threat, saying words that Deek would not have to utter out loud.
Deek had never been a fearful, nervous type – he’d grown up in a country torn by sectarian violence, where nevertheless he had gone to school, run errands, and played football in the street. Yet with the knife on his hip, he stood taller. He had to resist the impulse to rest his hand on it, like a gunslinger of old.
Doing Things Differently
On the rare occasions he visited Lubna, he usually brought chocolate bars for the kids, partly because they loved it, and partly to annoy Lubna, as he knew she didn’t approve of giving the kids candy. This time, he wanted to do things differently. So he stopped at a fresh juice store called Aseer, owned by a Palestinian brother. He purchased seven blended juices, one each for Lubna, her husband Amer, and their five kids.
Standing in the juice shop, he was very aware of the knife on his hip, and felt that everyone must be staring at him. But although he did notice the occasional glance, no one seemed to care much.
Back in the car, he transferred $200,000 into each backpack, leaving one million in the Halliburton case. The last $100K he stuffed into an envelope that went in his own pocket.
On the drive to Lubna’s house, he caught himself stroking the leather knife sheath on his hip, and forced himself to stop. This merciless, single-minded piece of steel had a magnetic pull. Such things were meant to be used, or why make them? But Deek did not actually want to use it. Maybe he should have gotten pepper spray instead.
Lubna lived in a modest three-bedroom house in a marginal neighborhood of southwest Fresno; the kind of neighborhood that was fine during the day, but where people locked their doors firmly at night. She had followed in Deek’s footsteps and become a school teac
her, while her husband Amer was an auto mechanic. Deek knew that they struggled to make ends meet. It had taken a toll on their marriage, and they had actually divorced once, then remarried for the sake of the kids.
He rang the doorbell, still wearing his gray suit, red shoes, and red dress shirt, and with the knife hanging on his hip. He regretted not taking the time to change. Lubna would see his outfit as extravagant or foolish. He carried the Halliburton briefcase in one hand and a cardboard carton with the juices in the other. He’d hidden the two backpacks beneath the spare tire in the trunk of the car.
It was five thirty in the afternoon. Lubna should be home, but Amer might still be at the auto shop.
Immediately, he heard the sounds of running feet, and at least one child calling out, “I’ll get it!” The door swung open, and there stood four kids ranging from ages 5 to 13. The only one missing was the baby, Basim, who was a year and a half old. As soon as they saw him, the children cheered.
“It’s Uncle Deek!” Aliyah shouted.
Look Who It Is
Lubna showed up with the baby on one hip. She was 5’5” and wiry, with curly black hair that fell to her shoulders. Her proud nose, straight shoulders, and soulful black eyes were much like his own, but where Deek was bulky, Lubna was slender, bordering on skinny.
“Well, look who it is. Your wife has been calling twice a day looking for you. What kind of stunt did you pull this time?”
Deek was still in the ultra-clear frame of mind granted to him by the Namer’s potion. His emotions were there, but they were two-dimensional, like a child’s stick figure drawing. Normally he would have responded negatively to Lubna’s jibe, but this time he gazed at her calmly, noticing her air of strength that was belied only by the dark circles beneath her eyes. A few small age spots had appeared along the line of her left cheekbone. He had never before imagined Lubna getting old. He felt a gentle wave of understanding wash over him, that the core idea of family was shared experience. You came from the same place, grew up together, aged together, and were buried together.
For half a breath, he wanted to cry, but found nothing there. He wondered if this was how normal, healthy people experienced the world. He didn’t think so.
“I brought fresh juice.” Deek held the carton out. “Can I come in?”
Lubna met his gaze, then took in his appearance. “What’s with the getup? You look like a cross between an Italian film star and Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier.”
“That’s a compliment. Crockett opposed Andrew Jackson’s Indian Removal Act. He believed in respecting the rights of the indigenous people.”
“So you haven’t completely forgotten everything from your teaching days. Crocket died at the Alamo, you know.”
Deek gave a half-shrug. “Well then, you all may go to Hell, and I will go to Texas.”
Lubna almost smiled – Deek saw the corners of her mouth twitch – before she looked away and said, “This isn’t a good time for a visit. I told you that. I just got home from work an hour ago, dinner is on the stove, and the kids haven’t done their homework.”
“It’s an inconvenient time, I see that now. I’ll try not to stay too long. Please.”
Lubna sighed. “Fine. Come on.”
Leave Me Out Of It
Deek sat at the breakfast nook in a corner of the kitchen, bouncing Basim on his knee while Lubna prepared dinner. The kitchen was filled with the odors of the Iraqi foods that Lubna had learned to prepare at their mother’s side: masgouf (grilled fish), kibbeh (rice and potato balls filled with minced beef), and margat bamya (okra stew).
The kids had happily taken their juices and gone off to play. Deek had brought a strawberry-banana juice for Amer, but since the man wasn’t home, he sipped it himself. It was ice cold and delicious.
“Obviously you and Rania are having a fight,” Lubna commented. “I wish you would leave me out of it.” She’d set her own juice – straight up mango puree, which Deek knew she loved – on the kitchen counter.
Deek cleared his throat. “Lubna. I wasn’t kind to you when we were growing up. I don’t think I’ve ever been kind to you. I’m deeply sorry. You were a good kid, happy and talented in many ways. And now you’re a good mother. You deserved a better brother than me.”
These were truths that Deek had always known in his heart, but had never possessed the clarity or courage to speak out loud. Now, however, under the influence of the Namer’s potion, he could express these things without being overwhelmed by guilt and shame.
Lubna stopped stirring the pot of okra stew, and turned to face him fully. She looked unbalanced, as if Deek had just tried to hit her.
You’re Dying
“What’s the matter with you? Why are you saying this?”
“Because it’s true. I remember so many times when we were young when I put you down. I insulted your appearance, your voice, your cheerful attitude, the closeness you had with Baba and Mama, and none of it had anything to do with you. It was all my own jealousy and insecurity. I wished I could be like you, and I was jealous of the way you were able to love our parents sincerely and be loved in return. The reality is that I admire you and I love you. You’re very important to me. I can never apologize enough for not showing you that.”
“I have to sit down.” Lubna dropped the wooden spatula into the pot of okra and turned off the stove. Then she backed up until she reached the wall, and slid down to sit on the floor.
She looked up suddenly, sharply. “You’re dying. You’re sick? You have cancer?”
“No! Why would you think that?”
Basim burped, and Deek put the boy on his shoulder, patting his back. Were you supposed to do that to an 18-month-old baby? The boy smelled like baby powder. He squirmed, and Deek set him down on the floor, where he sat cross-legged, playing with his toes.
“You left your wife,” Lubna said. “Now you show up here wearing that ridiculous outfit and saying these things you’ve never said in your life. You have never told me you loved me before, ever. Not once. What am I supposed to think?”
You Need A Place To Stay
Basim used Deek’s pant leg to pull himself to a standing position, then walked unsteadily toward his mother. She held out her hands, making encouraging noises.
“I was thinking of changing my name,” Deek said.
“Are you kidding? To what?”’
“Asad.”
Lubna pursed her lips. “Look. I get that maybe you feel like ‘rooster’ is not a dignified name. But Mama named you Deek for a reason. Don’t you remember our rooster in Iraq, when we were kids?”
“Of course I remember.”
“He was huge,” Lubna went on. “And so beautiful, with a big chest and blond hair.”
“Chickens don’t have hair.”
“You know what I mean. Remember when a big stray dog came after the chickens once, and Deek attacked him without fear? He used to wake us up for Fajr prayer right on time, like a muaddhin. He even protected the cow’s calf when a raven attacked it. Mama loved that bird.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s talk about something else. Families should support each other, don’t you think? I mean, hypothetically, if Baba had been a successful businessman and made a lot of money, he would have shared it with Ammo Ali and Tant Reem, don’t you think?
Lubna’s nostrils flared. “Baba gave us everything we needed.”
Deek made a placating motion. “I know. I’m talking about anyone. If one family member becomes rich, don’t you think it’s normal to share that with the rest of the family? There’s a saying in the South: Lift when you climb. It means -”
“I know what it means. I get it now. You need a place to stay. Rania kicked you out. So you’re trying to guilt me into taking you in.”
“No, I’m not expressing myself well. Let me just get to the point.”
Lubna snorted. “I wish you would.”
Basim had reached Lubna and sat happily in her lap. Deek walked over to his sister, snagging her juice along the way, and sat beside her. The white tiled floor was cool and very clean. He was careful not to look directly into her eyes, as she generally did not like that. He handed her the juice. “Drink it.”
Lubna sipped the juice absent mindedly, then said, “Mm. It’s good. Mango.”
“Here’s the thing. You know I’ve been trading cryptos for five years.”
Lubna rolled her eyes. “Of course. Your white whale. Your obsession. I can’t stand to talk about that anymore, I’ve told you so many times – “
“In the last week,” Deek interrupted, “it’s gone well for me. Very, very well. I made a lot of money. Alhamdulillah.”
“Okay, so… you came here to boast?” She sipped the juice again.
“No, Lubna. I’m trying to say that I care about you, and I’m sorry for all the harm I’ve caused, and I want to share my good fortune with you.” He pushed the briefcase across the floor to her. “This is for you.”
Lubna released the snaps on the briefcase and opened it. She stared at the stacks of banded currency. “What is this?”
“A million dollars.”
Renaissance Islamic Academy
His sister looked at him with wide, amazed eyes. Then, slowly, her face began to darken. “Unbelievable,” she said. “This is unbelievable.”
Seeing the rage building in Lubna’s eyes, Deek felt his stomach drop. This was not going as planned.
“So,” Lubna said, biting off the words and spitting them out. “After half a lifetime of bullying me, you come here with a million dollars – a million dollars! – and say you love me, and you think you can buy my forgiveness and love? Like I’m some kind of high-priced escort, and you can pay me to say the words you want to hear…”
She went on like that. Deek immediately realized his mistake. Lubna was almost as proud, stubborn, emotional, and honor-bound as Deek himself. He should not have brought the money, not yet. Today should have been only about his declaration of regret and love.
His mind raced. An idea came to him.
“You misunderstand. It’s not free money. I want to hire you for a job.”
Lubna stopped talking. Breathing hard, she jiggled and shushed Basim, whose face had twisted up like he was about to cry. She put her finger in the juice and stuck it in Basim’s mouth. He immediately stopped fussing and smiled happily, reaching for the juice cup.
“What job?”
“I want to start a full-time Islamic school. I’ve thought about this a lot.”
This was actually true in a way, as it was a fantasy or mental exercise Deek had bounced around in his mind from time to time, knowing he would never have the resources to make it happen.
“We need an Islamic school that teaches not only math and science, but also Islamic art, poetry, and even the Prophetic sports. Also, we need Arabic teachers who are qualified to teach Arabic as a second language, using modern methods of language instruction, not just rote memorization like in the Arab world.”
He glanced surreptitiously at his sister and saw that she was nodding in agreement. Encouraged, he went on:
“And we need Islamic instruction that teaches kids why they are Muslim, and prepares them for challenges to their faith from ideologies like atheism, consumerism, and nihilism, and readies them as well to deal with hatred and Islamophobia.”
“That’s so important,” Lubna agreed.
Deek flashed a smile. “I also want to offer scholarships, so that we have Muslim children from all ethnic and economic backgrounds, not just a bunch of rich Arabs and Pakistanis. I want this to be a Renaissance school, with a broader scope than the one my daughters attended. In fact, I want to call it Renaissance Islamic Academy.”
Hammurabi
“That actually makes sense,” Lubna muttered. “I’ve had some of the same thoughts. Are you sure you don’t just want revenge against Dr. Ajeeb? I know how much you hate him.”
Lubna knew him well indeed, but Deek realized with a start that he hadn’t even thought about Dr. Ajeeb in days. Just last week, he’d wanted to drown the man in the river, but the chain-smoking principal of his children’s former school had now become irrelevant.
Hammurabi padded into the kitchen on silent feet. The old white cat was small and lean, with patchy fur and an eye missing from a long-ago fight. He’d never liked Deek, and had always hissed at him. This time, however, he pushed his head against Deek’s arm and meowed. Deek scratched the little guy’s head and rubbed his cheeks. The cat circled around him, meowing and rubbing against him.
“Aliyah!” Lubna bellowed, causing Deek to nearly drop his juice cup.
The girl came running, juice cup in hand. At 13, she was Lubna’s eldest. She took after her mother, with a short, wiry frame, and curly brown hair. She was a bright, polite child, and Deek had always liked her.
“Yes, Mama?”
“Feed Hammo.”
“Okay, Mama.” The girl took a bag of cat food from a cabinet, then froze, staring wide-eyed at the briefcase on the floor. “Is that real money?”
“Never mind that.” Lubna pushed the briefcase closed with her foot. Aliyah poured food into a bowl and fed the hungry cat, though her eyes kept darting to the briefcase. When she was done, she ran off to play with her siblings as Hammo munched noisily, turning his head to see the food with his one eye before taking a bite.
A Lot More Than a Million
“I don’t care about Ajeeb,” Deek continued. “He got fired a few years ago anyway.”
Lubna gave the baby a little more mango juice, then sipped some herself. “I guess that’s good. But anyway, I already have a teaching job, and I’m not about to give it up for some half-baked plan cooked up by you alone, with a million dollars in a briefcase.”
“I have a lot more than a million dollars. I have enough to buy or build a facility, hire staff, and create an endowment that would obviate the need for constant fundraisers. And I’m not hiring you to be a teacher. I want you to be the principal. I would be the executive director, but I would be hands-off. You would run everything. Your salary will be $200,000 per year, with an $800,000 signing bonus. That” – he pointed to the briefcase – “is your first year’s salary and bonus.”
“You really have that much money?”
“I have over fifty million dollars.” Which again was technically true, though his actual net worth was closer to one hundred twenty million, at last count.
Lubna’s mouth fell open. She started to speak, then stopped.
“This is the first time,” Deek commented, “I’ve ever seen you at a loss for words. It’s a good look on you.” He immediately regretted the words. That was the old, bullying Deek talking, not the new Deek.
“Sorry,” he added. “Just a dumb joke. I’m at your service.”
I Don’t Owe You
Lubna’s eyes were tired, and her mouth had turned down at the corners. It wasn’t anger this time, but exhaustion, or so it seemed to Deek. She gave the baby more mango juice, and he uttered a happy, “Ababadado!”
With a grunt of effort, Lubna stood and went to the kitchen window, which looked out onto the backyard. With her back to him, she put her forehead to the glass and rocked the baby on her hip. It occurred to Deek that she was done with him. She didn’t want to talk to him anymore. He stood to leave. He supposed he should take the briefcase, but he paused, unsure.
“It’s weird,” Lubna said, still with her back turned, “how Hammo likes you now.”
Deek cleared his throat. “They say animals can sense sincerity.”
“Hmm.”
“Are you… Was there anything else?”
Lubna turned to face him. Her breath had left a patch of condensation on the window.
“I accept your offer.” His sister’s face was as hard as the foundation of the house in which they stood. “We’ll talk about the details later. For now I want to be alone. I appreciate what you said, but I feel like I’m being manipulated somehow. And just to be clear, this doesn’t put me in your debt. I didn’t ask for it. I don’t owe you anything. You should leave now.”
“You’re absolutely right. But I meant what I said. I’m sorry for how I treated you, and I love you.” He walked away. Just as he stepped out through the door, he heard the sound of Lubna weeping quietly.
In the car, driving away, he told himself that he hadn’t lied. Yes, he’d given her a way to accept the money with honor. But starting a school was a great project, and Lubna was an excellent choice to run it. He also noted that she hadn’t doubted him when he told her how much money he had. That meant a lot to him.
It occurred to him that being the founder of such a school would grant him prestige in the community. At one time this thought would have excited him, but now it did not move him, and he dismissed it as unworthy. He thought about his experience on the planet Rust. When he’d learned that Earth had been destroyed, all he’d cared about had been his family.
And the truth was that the Earth really would be destroyed. Every being on Earth is bound to perish, Shaykha Rabiah had recited. Only your Lord Himself, full of Majesty and Honor, will remain. Then which of your Lord’s favours will you both deny?
My Treat
He got in the car, drove a few blocks, then pulled over and sat. In his lifetime, Lubna had been angry at him more times than he could count, but today she’d acted as if, in trying to give her money, he had stabbed her in the heart. She’d done all but cry out, “Et tu, Deek?”
Lubna was a difficult personality, which was the problem. She was too much like Deek. They reflected each other’s worst personality traits. Who wanted to look into a mirror that showed you at your worst?
It would be different with Marco. Deek planned to give his indigent friend $200,000. Marco had grown up poor and still struggled to earn enough money to eat. This would change his entire life’s trajectory. Deek couldn’t wait to see the look on Marco’s face when he opened the backpack and saw all that cash.
He called Marco, who answered with, “How did the Moon Walk Motel work out for you?”
“I got ki-” He’d been about to say, I got kidnapped, until he remembered he must not talk about that.
“You got what?”
“I, uh, got killed by that sagging mattress. Are you free? I want to take you to The Purple Heifer for dinner. My treat.”
“Purple Heifer! Did an uncle die and leave you a fortune? Heck yeah, I’m free.”
“Pick you up in an hour.”
* * *
[Part 15 will be published next week inshaAllah]
Reader comments and constructive criticism are important to me, so please comment!
See the Story Index for Wael Abdelgawad’s other stories on this website.
Wael Abdelgawad’s novels – including Pieces of a Dream, The Repeaters and Zaid Karim Private Investigator – are available in ebook and print form on his author page at Amazon.com.
Related:
Pieces of a Dream | Part 1: The Cabbie and the Muslim Woman
Zaid Karim, Private Investigator, Part 1 – Temptation
The post Moonshot [Part 14] – Money And Love appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.
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