up. I had to leave this place, I was choking up with my tears. I wanted to call out the vender on how disgusting and racist he was, but...I couldn’t. I felt like a liar, like a hypocrite, because I knew that three weeks ago...I would’ve agreed with everything he was saying. Heck, I would’ve given him a thumbs-up.
What was wrong with me?
Was I really one of those racist people? Why couldn’t I just be colorblind? Why did I only see all Muslims as terrorists? Like the guy said, if all Muslims were terrorists, why were all Christians not thought of as KKK members? I knew in my heart that those people didn’t represent me, so why would I think that those who killed my grandfather represented all Muslims?
I left the café, and went to the nearest trash can. I sat down by it and threw my guts up, waving a girl away when she asked if I was okay. But then, she insisted on holding my hair up for me; that was kind of her. When I was finished, I was shocked beyond words to find that it was the very same Muslim girl who didn’t get her cup of coffee, only because of her beliefs.
“Are you sure you’re okay? I can call a cab for you,” she said.
“N-no, I’m fine,” I told her, wiping my mouth with the tissue that she handed me. “Are you okay?”
“Me?” she smiled. “Yeah, why are you asking?”
“Um...the café, the ve–”
“Oh! No, it’s cool, I’m used to it,” she replied with a shrug.
“Used to it?” I asked with shock.
“Oh, trust me, when I only get called a terrorist and Osama’s lover, it’s a good day–at least I don’t get physically attacked.”
“Are you serious?” I gasped.
“Yeah, things are tough for us since 9/11, you know? Every day is a struggle,” she said, and my already-broken heart broke a bit more. “But it’s my country: I love it and I can’t leave it.”
It gutted me to realize that it was people like me who made things tough for her and others of her belief. But...this was my wake up call.
Back home, I sat on my bed, found a paper and a pen and started writing down my thoughts, because a wise man once told me it makes your thoughts clearer that way–and he was right.
My thoughts were too numerous, going everywhere, and I felt as if I couldn’t control them. It wasn’t the best feeling in the world.
After I wrote everything I wanted to write down, I started counting them.
Most of my thoughts were about Muslims and Islam. What I’d learned through my whole life–or better yet, hadn’t learned. Then, what I’d learned through my search for the keys of knowledge over the past two weeks, and in that week I spent in the kingdom.
I met people I liked, and people I loved. I met people I disliked, and peopled I hated.
I met people that made me laugh, and met others that made me cry.
I met people that made me feel safe, and met ones who threatened my life.
All of them were people. They were Christians, Jews, atheists and they were Muslims. But eventually, and before anything, they were people. And we were all alike.
All of my thoughts were about Mazen. What I felt about him, and what I wanted with him. How I missed him and how I ached for him. How my mind wouldn’t stop thinking about him for a second, and how my hands ached to touch his.
I knew in my heart that I wanted him, forever.
I loved him. I loved him so much. I had to be with him.
Our relationship wasn’t normal. But–who cares? That was what made it unique.
We got married then we fell in love.
We got divorced and then he told me he was falling for me.
Lovers kissed at sunset and we shared out first kiss as the sun was about to rise.
Lovers kissed facing each other and we kissed upside down.
People ate pancakes for breakfast and we had them for dinner.
He was a Muslim and I was Christian.
He was an Arab and I was American.
We were different. Very different. But in the end, we were a man and a woman. We were people. People with hearts. And all people were equal. God said that the heart is all that matters. And I loved his heart. With every sense in me. If there was one right thing I needed to do for myself, it was to be with him again. And if people around us made our lives hard, I didn’t care. I’d fight. He was worth it.
I got up, smiling as broadly as I could make my lips smile, brought my ring finger to my mouth and kissed my wedding rings that I had never been able to take off.
I’d found my black keys.
I knew what I wanted to do. I knew what I needed to do. I was never so sure about anything in my whole life as I was about being with Mazen.
Maybe it took Salma two months to get back to him, but it took me only two weeks, because her heart was much stronger than mine, and she couldn’t possibly love him more than I did. Nobody could.
One day, I told my grandmother that I didn’t belong in the world of the one I loved, and she told me, “But, sweetie...it’s not lands and buildings that make a home; it’s people who do.”
And I believed her. Lands and buildings didn’t make a home. It was people who did. And he was my people. He was my home. I belonged to him. With him. And I had to be with him, near him. I needed to take a plane to get me there. To my home. Him.
Mazen.
White Locks
The Colorblind Trilogy Book 2
“Mazen is not in the kingdom?” I gasped.
Rose is a loved mother, wife, and a stay at home lawyer. Writing is her passion, and reading is her obsession. Music is her best friend and sarcasm is her speaking trend. One of her joys is bringing happiness to others and her biggest wish is that they stay true to one another. Through her stories, she wants to spread nothing except understanding, peace and love.
Additional Works
Pretty Faces and Dark Places by Rose B. Mashal Coming October 2015
The Colorblind Trilogy Book #2 White Locks by Rose B. Mashal Coming 2016
Thank you to the following individuals who, without their contributions and support, this book could not have been written:
To Sandra, for being the best friend and the best sister, I love you more than love. Thank you for making me laugh even when smiling was not so easy to do.
To Ann May, the other part of my soul.
To Wendy Mathew, for always being there when I needed you the most. I would've been a mess without you.
To Michelle, my baby sister.
To Adriana, for all the late night talks and early morning wishes.
To Widad, Zeinab, Maheen, Susan, Terri, Sahar, Joan, Carol, Isherna, Leah, Kholoud, Sheri, Kara, Sabina, Allie, Tanvi, for listening to all of my rants, and assuring me that 'It's going to be okay'. I love you girls more than I can explain, and I wouldn't know what I would've done without your constant help.
To Amber L. Johnson, for always telling me what to do and where to go when I was lost and had no idea what I was doing.
To SJ Hooks, for saving my heart.
To my parents, my kids and my husband, for being my reasons for living.
To the Fandom, for teaching me lots of what I know and helping me through rough times.
Table of Contents
Title
Copyright
Summary
Preface
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
About the Author
Acknowledgments