time talking with him.
“I love them. My mom’s allergic to too many of them, though, so I just never had any of my own.” I settle back into my seat too. “I’d like a sloth, actually.”
“Yikes. That’s one of the reasons that we have rescue missions. The exotic pet trade is the largest illicit market in the world, after drugs and weapons.” Layth takes another sip. “That baby sloth you saw was a victim of attempted trafficking.”
“I didn’t really mean—” I stop and lift my latte to my lips instead of protesting. Because I actually did imagine having a sloth to come home to.
“So how long are you going to Ecuador for?” Khadija asks, breaking a piece of her croissant and holding it in her hand. She doesn’t look very enthused about eating it.
“For good.”
“Your family’s okay with that?”
I’m glad Khadija’s asking this, because I’ve been wondering this same thing, but after seeing that showdown with Uncle Bilal, I wouldn’t dare be so brave.
“My mom moved to England. She’s cool with it.” Layth shoots her that look.
It’s a don’t-ask-anything-else look.
My eyes are closed. Therefore my soul’s closed too.
“And your dad?”
Oh my God, Khadija asked another question.
“He’s awaiting trial for drunken driving. For killing my little brother two years ago. So I don’t give a shit what he thinks.”
I don’t move a muscle.
Beside me, Khadija doesn’t either.
“I’m so sorry, Layth.” Khadija sets the croissant piece down into the bag it came from. “That’s terrible.”
“I know,” he says. “But it’ll be okay when I get to Ecuador. I mean, I’ll be okay.”
I nod. “I’m sorry too,” I offer in a small voice. My heart feels like it’s been slammed against a wall.
“You know what the funny thing is? My dad was a cook in a halal restaurant. That’s what he did,” Layth says. “And when the news came out about the crash, some people were more upset that they’d been going to a drunken guy’s restaurant than they were about my brother.”
Khadija shakes her head. “That’s terrible.”
“One of the many reasons I need to get away from here.” He leans back again and tilts his head so that the top of it is touching the wall behind him. “But Muhsin’s buried in Detroit. So I gotta come back and see him.”
The embroidered name on the scout neckerchief comes to me. Muhsin.
I check Layth’s face, still tilted up, and see that his expression’s stoic. “How old was he?”
“Eight.”
Khadija sighs sadly. “Allah yarhamu. Same age as Dawud.”
Now I know why Layth cried about the handkerchief. He thought I was saying it’s special because it was Muhsin’s.
But I’d just been thinking everything he’s going to live on is in a single backpack, so whatever’s in there must be either a necessity or special.
“Making dua can help ease your pain,” Khadija offers gently. “It’s helped so many people in their darkest hours. And God does not give us a burden we cannot bear.”
Khadija’s offering the teaching most Muslims learn from when we’re very young. Which Layth probably already knows.
“I don’t know what I believe in anymore, to be honest.” Layth straightens his head and looks at us. “He was a little kid. And it shattered my mom. I don’t think she knew how to live on. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m usually not like this. I think it’s just being around family again.”
I nod, having no words to say for such unimaginable pain. In the time of my biggest pain, Dr. Lloyd helped me through it. “Have you thought of, um, counseling?”
“Been through it. That’s why I’m going to Ecuador. It came as a result of counseling. It’s my life-purpose action plan.” He sits up, like what he said just now is giving him fuel. “It’s late. Shouldn’t you guys get back?”
“Yeah.” I nod, relieved he looks more uplifted. “I’m helping organize the kids tomorrow for their parts, and we didn’t get to practice today.”
Khadija turns to me. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Sarah asked if you could help Dawud with his flower ceiling in the morning as well. He needs help putting it together.”
I’m about to groan, but then I nip that in the bud quickly—groaning about helping a kid the same age as Layth’s brother who passed away. “Okay.”
I drink the last of my latte, and, when I lower the cup, I notice Layth has stood up and has already started moving to the door, his head bent over his phone. His movements are more confident and determined,