Page 3 of Tarek

Breathe Miranda, breathe…my brain is begging me to inhale.

Dereck steps forward with his hand stretched out, coming to touch me.

On instinct, I back away from him, pressing my hips into the side table.

“Baby, let me explain.” Dereck stretches his hands toward me. Hands that held me when I was afraid. Hands that made love to me are now outstretched, trembling toward me.

I shake my head. I need to get out of here. I feel like I can’t breathe, the pain is too much.

“I have to marry her, Sticks. We have a name but no money. My father gambled it all, now we are in debt.” Dereck advances toward me. His eyes plead with me to listen.

“It’s all arranged. We didn’t want this. Tell her Ilyana!” Dereck screams, his voice sounds desperate.

“Sticks, I—” Ilyana stutters.

“Get out, Ily.” That’s all that I could muster.

“Sticks, please.” she stands slowly, sniffling.

“Leave, Ily,” Dereck says as he opens the door for her. Thunder rumbles in the heavens above us.

Ilyana gets up, walking to the door, her face is stoic. “We have to get married. I’m sorry Sticks.”

“Get the fuck out, Ily!” Dereck screams.

I couldn’t look at her. Her footsteps hurried across my mother’s wooden floor. The rain roars as she dashes outside.

I shut my eyes tightly, trying to focus on my breathing. Trying to make sense of everything that was happening around me.

The door slams close. “Fuck!” Dereck screams out in frustration.

I glide my fingers over my mother’s wooden table, leaning on it for support.

“You don’t have to do anything.” I can hear the venom seeping into my voice.

He walks away and paces in my mother’s small wooden kitchen. Rubbing his neck, rolling his shoulders.

“Ilyana is my best friend, you can’t marry her,” I move over to him, pressing my face against his warm back. My arms wrap around his torso slowly.

“Ilyana has never been your best friend Sticks,” he mutters under his breath. I shake my head, dismissing the idea of Ilyana and I not being friends.

“You love me D. We can leave this all behind together.” My words are muffled as I press my face into his spine.

“What about your mom? My family?” He grumbles. My heart clenches when the prospect of leaving my mother behind crosses my mind.

“We can leave them behind and return years from now,” even as I say it out loud, a small part of me knows he will never do that. He rubs my hands against his stomach and peels my fingers away.

My arms become heavy like they are dipped in concrete as they drop to my side.

“We can do it, Dereck,” I swallow as I wait for his reply. He walks to the window, pulling softly at my mom’s white lace curtains.

I take his silence for a chance to press on with my thoughts. “We can hop on a train and go to New York like we always wanted.”

“I can’t do that Sticks,” he sighs and drags his hand through his jet black hair.

Every time he says he can’t, a little part of me dies with him.

“Why not? Why can’t we do it? Why can’t we leave?—”

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