Writers on the Storm

by Christy Cauley

Cornelia did not sleep easy that night. She tossed and turned and woke up every few hours. She kept dreaming about the day’s events and about her grandmother. She once again remembered visiting her grandmother during her final weeks. She remembered how tiny she looked, just as Mrs. Hakim looked in that hospital bed.

  At six in the morning, Cornelia’s alarm clock shook her out of a terrible nightmare. She was once again reliving the day her grandmother died. Cornelia woke up sobbing. She had never had such an intense dream before. Shaking the feelings from her nightmare wasn’t easy. She tried to pull herself together in the shower but she was still shaken when she went down to breakfast in her fuzzy pink robe and slippers.

  Half of a bagel with light cream cheese and half a banana were sitting on a plate on the kitchen table next to a glass of chocolate soy milk. Cornelia didn’t see her mother, so she sat down and ate. When she put her dishes in the dishwasher she could see that her mother had already eaten and much to Cornelia’s surprise, apparently Veronica had company.

  “Ew, gross!” Cornelia said out loud, wrinkling up her nose.

  “Cornelia, is that you?” Her mother called from the dining room.

  “Yeah,” Cornelia replied.

  “Let me know when you’re ready to go,” Veronica said cheerily. Cornelia thought she might vomit. She had never heard her mother so cheery in the morning.

  Cornelia ran upstairs to get ready for school, careful to avoid the dining room. Only today she wasn’t as careful when picking out her outfit and she wasn’t as precise when putting on her make-up and styling her hair. She opted for a hoodie with jeans and tennis shoes with her hair in a ponytail, which was very unlike the girl who usually opted for more stylish clothes. When she was ready, she grabbed her purse and book bag and walked downstairs, uneasy about the person she was about to meet. The person that made her mother so chipper.

  When Cornelia walked into the dining room, she was relieved to see a woman sitting across the table from Veronica. Both women looked up at Cornelia when she walked in the room. She was short with red, curly hair that was slightly tousled. Her eyes were bright green and she had freckles. Cornelia thought she walked right off a poster advertising trips to Ireland. She glanced under the woman’s chair for a pot of gold, but saw none.

  “Oh, CC, I’d like you to meet my friend, Michelle,” Veronica said, pointing to the woman. Cornelia politely waved. She was worried that her mother had brought a man home, so she was happy to exchange pleasantries with her mother’s new friend.

  “Are you feeling o.k. CC?” her mother asked.

  “Yeah, mom, I’m fine,” Cornelia replied.

  “O.k.” her mom said, looking at her daughter’s untidy appearance.

  “Well, I guess you’re ready,” Veronica said and both women stood up. “I’m going to drive Michelle home too,” she said, noticing Cornelia’s curious look. The three women walked out to the SUV. Michelle sat in the front, so Cornelia was stuck in the back seat. The two women were chattering back and forth, but Cornelia wasn’t paying any attention to them. She was thinking about Mrs. Hakim and hoping she would see her in school. She spent the trip to school in silence. The two women didn’t seem to notice.

  When they arrived at the school, Cornelia took her backpack and exited the SUV and Veronica and Michelle waved as they drove away. As soon as she walked through the door, Cornelia made a beeline for classroom 97. But when she got there, all she found was Admeta staring out the window.

  “Hey,” Cornelia said.

  Admeta turned around and echoed back, “Hey.”

  “So, she’s not here?” Cornelia asked.

  “No. There’s a substitute. He’s with Mr. Beckardi right now.”

  “Oh,” Cornelia replied.

  “Don’t worry, Cornelia. She’s going to be back. Mark my words. Mrs. H. isn’t a quitter. She’ll be back.” Admeta sounded as if she was trying to convince herself.

  “I hope so,” Cornelia said. “I guess I’d better get to homeroom.”

  “See ya,” Admeta said as Cornelia walked down the hall to her locker and then continued on to homeroom. She passed Rebekka and Sarah in the hallway. They had their backs to her and were chattering excitedly about something. Cornelia kept on walking, hoping they wouldn’t turn around. She got her wish.

  When she arrived in homeroom, some of the students were in a circle talking. Cornelia couldn’t hear what they were saying but she thought she heard Mrs. Hakim’s name mentioned. When Mr. Brockheimer, Cornelia’s homeroom teacher, walked in, the group immediately stopped talking. Students slowly filed in until the bell rang and several students, including Rebekka and Sarah, rushed through the door. They all went to their seats quietly, hoping not to get a lecture about being late.

  Mr. Brockheimer took attendance and then there was some idle chatter until homeroom let out. Cornelia tried to rush out the door without an altercation with Rebekka and Sarah, but her luck had run out. As she strode down the hallway, Rebekka and Sarah each grabbed one of her arms and began to walk with her.

  “So, CC, we hear you were a big hero yesterday,” Rebekka said.

  “Yeah, a hero,” Sarah echoed like a good lapdog.

  “What?” Cornelia said, pulling her arms away from her captors. They had first bell together, so there was no point in trying to walk a different direction.

  “It’s all over the school about how you and what’s-her-name, Conchita, or whatever, saved Mrs. Rag-head’s life,” Rebekka said snidely.

  “What did you say?” Cornelia shouted and stopped in the middle of the hallway, causing a bottleneck. “Her name is Admeta, not Conchita and Mrs. Hakim isn’t what you called her either, Becky,” Cornelia said, knowing full well that Rebekka hated being called Becky.

  “My name’s not Becky and you know it!” Rebekka shot back.

  “Well maybe if you were more careful and called people by their proper names, then I would be more careful with yours, Becky!” Cornelia said and then she took off ahead of the duo. She could hear them saying things behind her back, but she couldn’t make it out. She could also hear the occasional person saying, “there she is” or “that’s her” as she walked past them in the hallway.

  The entire day went like that with Cornelia avoiding Rebekka and Sarah every chance she got. Apparently Amanda had had enough of the evil duo too because she had forgotten about her anger with Cornelia and sat with her and Chad at lunch. Cornelia noticed that Amanda wasn’t eating but she didn’t want to anger her again by mentioning it.

  “Rebekka told me what she said to you this morning, CC,” Amanda said.

  “Oh, she shared the joy?” Cornelia asked smugly.

  “For the record I think it’s disgusting. Honestly I don’t know why you ever hung out with that girl. I only hung out with her because you hung out with her. She just makes me sick.”

  “I’m glad I’m not alone,” Chad said. “What did Rebekka say?”

  “You don’t want to know,” Cornelia replied. “It was nasty and racist and I hate her. Can we talk about something else?”

  “O.k. shoot,” Chad said.

  Cornelia spoke to them about her nightmares, but she did not reveal anything about Mrs. Hakim’s cancer. That was a secret she had vowed to keep. Chad offered a sympathetic ear. Amanda didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded a lot and picked at her food. The three went their separate ways after lunch and after study hall, Cornelia headed to English class where Mrs. Hakim would have been.

  When Cornelia arrived in Classroom 97, she found Admeta waiting for her. “I’m going to Mrs. Hakim’s after school, do you want to come?” she asked.

  “Yeah, sure. She’s out of the hospital?”

  “Yeah. Mr. Beckardi told me.”

  “How are you getting there?” Cornelia asked.

  “She lives in the village; we can walk,” Admeta said. Cornelia was so concerned for Mrs. Hakim that she didn’t even feel a moment of apprehension about walking through the
village.

  “Cool. I’ll tell my mom not to pick me up from school,” Cornelia said and sat at her desk in the front row. The seats were in alphabetical order, so Admeta was at the back of the class.

  When the bell rang signifying the start of class, a very tall, thin man with light brown hair and glasses closed the door. He was wearing khaki pants, a short-sleeved button down checked shirt that was untucked and a pair of beat-up old leather loafers with no socks. He walked over to the white board and wrote the word “CARL” in big capital letters.

  “Hello!” he said and smiled brightly, showing off the space between his front teeth. Cornelia thought he had a nice smile but she would rather have seen Mrs. Hakim. She glanced behind her and saw Admeta scowling. Cornelia thought Admeta wouldn’t give any substitute a chance if they were replacing Mrs. Hakim.

  “I’m Carl Zeland,” he continued, “but you can just call me Carl.” Cornelia was surprised. She had never had a teacher who asked to be called by his first name. She suddenly thought that Carl bore a slight resemblance to Chad. He had an air about him that said he was raised by hippies too.

  “I’m sorry to say that we don’t know how long Mrs. Hakim is going to be gone,” Carl said. “I’m very sorry that your teacher is injured and I know that you are all probably very attached to her. I want you to know that I’m not here to replace Mrs. Hakim. I’m just a substitute. I will be very glad to turn the reins back over to Mrs. Hakim when she is able.”

  Carl paused and looked around the room. “With that said,” he continued, “let’s get things started.”

  “I’d like you all to take a look at this book,” he said, holding up a copy of “Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.” Mrs. Hakim wanted you to read this book, but I was told by your principal, Mr. Beckardi, that this book is banned from the curriculum at Storm River High School. This is unfortunate, as I find Mark Twain to be one of the most insightful authors of his time. Mrs. Hakim must have thought this too, since she wanted you to read this book. I’m dismayed that you will not be able to read it, but I encourage you to read it on your own.” Cornelia thought that wasn’t likely with most of the students at Storm River, but the fact that the book was banned made her want to read it.

  “We can’t read the book, but I was able to obtain a censored copy of a mini-series that is based on the book. Normally I wouldn’t want to share something that is censored, but since Mrs. Hakim really wanted you to be exposed to this story, I think it’s important that you see this series, even if it is censored. We’ll be watching this for the rest of this week. Please take notes as we will be having a discussion next week and I don’t want you to forget the important points. Are we cool?” Carl asked and some of the students laughed. Teachers just didn’t say “cool.”

  “Good!” Carl said, smiling widely again. He started the computer projector and began the film. The class remained relatively quiet, which surprised Cornelia. They were normally more rambunctious when there was a substitute. To Cornelia’s surprise, she found the film quite compelling even though the bleeping of the n-word was distracting. Cornelia understood why it was censored. The n-word was a horrible word and she was ashamed that she had ever used it. In the context of “Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,” however, it was appropriate because that’s the way they spoke in that time. Even still, part of her was glad it was bleeped. She hated hearing that word. It reminded her of what she had done and that burning feeling of shame and guilt swept over her every time she heard it.

  When class was over, Carl greeted everyone at the door with a, “good-bye” or “see you tomorrow.” He still had that huge goofy grin on his face. Cornelia found it endearing.

  “I’ll meet you at your locker after school,” Admeta said as she and Cornelia left the classroom. Cornelia went to the office to call her mother. She was still grounded from using her cell phone. Her mother agreed to pick her up from school whenever Cornelia called to let her know they were back from Mrs. Hakim’s house. Veronica was surprised to hear that Cornelia wanted to visit Mrs. Hakim, so she did not make a fuss about being inconvenienced.

  The final bell was gym class. Cornelia walked mindlessly from the office to the gym, still hearing people whisper about her. She ran into the Turner twins and assured them that Mrs. Hakim was fine. She didn’t like lying. Inside she knew Mrs. Hakim wasn’t going to be fine, but she had promised to keep the secret.

  After grueling games of dodge ball, the last bell finally rung and Cornelia headed to her gym locker to change. She was glad gym was at the end of the day so she didn’t have to go to some much trouble to redo her hair make-up after sweating. After she locked up her gym clothes, she went to her regular locker to put away some books. Chad met her there and she quickly said “good-bye.” She told him that she and Admeta were going to visit Mrs. Hakim. Chad did not say so, but the look on his face was one of happy surprise. He kissed Cornelia on the cheek and went to get his bike. Just after he left, Admeta arrived.

  “You ready?” was all Admeta said.

  “Yeah,” Cornelia said as she picked up her purse and her now-lighter book bag and put on her coat.

  The pair walked out of the side door of the Business Wing and headed down Harrison Street in silence. After a few blocks, Admeta stopped to open a gate. Cornelia looked at the two-story yellow cottage with white shutters as if it mystified her. It reminded her of something you would see in a story book. It was nothing at all like what she expected of a house in Price Valley. It was sweet and homey. Admeta swung open the white picket gate and the girls walked into the front yard.

  “Quick, close the gate!” Admeta yelled as a big gray poodle sprang up and put his front paws on her shoulders. Cornelia complied with Admeta’s hasty request. When Mrs. Hakim said she had a poodle, Cornelia had been expecting a teacup-sized fluffy white dog with a bushy tail, not the dark monster that stood before her, pawing her friend.

  “O.k., Ralph, hola!” Admeta said, laughing and trying to push the dog down. “A little help?” she asked, turning her head toward Cornelia.

  “Down, doggie,” Cornelia said meekly, pointing toward the ground.

  “Oh, thanks, Cornelia, that really helped,” Admeta said, laughing again.

  “Well, I don’t know,” Cornelia said, cracking a smile. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Come here, Ralph!” called a man’s voice from the porch. The girls looked up to see a handsome man in his thirties slapping his thighs to attract the dog’s attention. Cornelia wondered who the man was. She thought he might have been a nurse sent by the hospital.

  “Hello Mr. H.,” Admeta said.

  Cornelia’s mouth slacked open a little. Realizing what she was doing, she quickly shut it. She didn’t want to be rude, but Mr. Hakim was nothing like she expected. For starters, he was white, with not a hint of Middle Eastern descent in him, not even an accent. Secondly, he was devastatingly handsome with short, messy blonde hair, a five o’clock shadow and a muscular build. Not that Mrs. Hakim was ugly by any means, but Mr. Hakim was definitely a pinch out of her league, in Cornelia’s opinion. Cornelia flinched. There she was being judgmental again and she was ashamed of her thoughts.

  “Hello, girls,” Mr. Hakim said. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he continued, reaching out a hand to shake Cornelia’s. Cornelia was suddenly struck with fear. What if Mrs. Hakim had told him about the awful thing she did? What if he wasn’t as forgiving as his wife? The two girls walked up the steps and Cornelia shook his hand.

  “This is Cornelia Drake,” Admeta said, looking at Cornelia cross-ways, wondering why she didn’t introduce herself.

  “Well, hello, Cornelia Drake,” Mr. Hakim said, smiling, with the dog by his side. He wasn’t wearing a coat and his breath was creating clouds when he spoke. Cornelia breathed a sigh of relief. Either he didn’t know what she did, didn’t realize she was the girl who did it, or he had forgiven her just like Mrs. Hakim had. Cornelia didn’t know which of those options was corre
ct, but she was glad Mr. Hakim hadn’t yelled at her as she had expected. She wondered what she would have said to him had he written something like that about Chad and was again ashamed. She knew she wouldn’t have been forgiving.

  “Hi, Mr. Hakim,” Cornelia said, releasing her hand from the sake, still wondering if he would put the pieces together.

  “Oh, around here I’m just Daniel. Pleased to meet you,” he said. Cornelia smiled, but said nothing further. She was still testing the waters. “Come on in, girls, it’s freezing out here,” he continued, opening the front door.

  The Hakim’s house was immaculate. There was not a doily or vase out of place in the entire home. In the foyer stood a grand wooden staircase, with an elaborate red and yellow carpet running down the middle of the steps. Near the door were a bench and table that looked like antiques, only they weren’t like any antiques Cornelia had ever seen. They were made of hand-carved wood, although Cornelia didn’t know what kind, and they had very elaborate designs and markings that Cornelia did not recognize. The table had a round white doily that looked hand-made and it had a vase centered exactly in the middle.

  The vase was bone-colored and decorated in black paint. At the top there was a character that appeared to be Satan looking down on different battle scenes. In the middle, facing Cornelia, there was a couple embracing and above them some chariots racing. There were maidens in distress and old men praying and in between stood elaborate buildings with round tops like mosques. Cornelia thought the vase was quite beautiful even though it was what her mother would have called “busy.”

  “Take your coats off, ladies,” Daniel said, pointing to a very odd coat rack. “You can put your book bags on the floor right there,” he continued, pointing to the floor next to the coat rack. The coat rack didn’t match anything else in the foyer. The stem was made of oak and had very crude brass hooks nailed to it. The base was a pan that had been painted red and filled with cement which was also painted red. As Cornelia hung her coat and put her bag down, she could see tiny handprints in the cement and then she understood. This coat rack had been made by a child. Now it all made sense. She had forgotten Mrs. Hakim said she had children.

  Next, Daniel led the girls into living room where Mrs. Hakim was lying on the couch covered in a red quilt. The quilt had plain red embroidery except for the very middle where there was a depiction of a couple. The woman was wearing a red wedding dress and the man a red suit. Cornelia thought it was an odd color for a wedding, but she didn’t know anything about Muslim weddings. The quilt seemed to portray the man fixing the bride’s veil. Above the couple was a single heart. Cornelia surmised that the quilt had been a wedding gift.

  The rest of the living room also had an antique look. Cornelia was surprised to see there was no television. There was a bench that looked similar to the one in the foyer and it was covered in an ornate red quilted pillow. There was a table in front of a bay window that was covered in a white lace table cloth similar to the doily Cornelia had seen earlier. It also held plants that were housed in planters as nice as the vase in the foyer.

  The couch was a vibrant red and yellow pattern, which matched the pillow-top bench. There was a curio in the corner of the room filled with the most beautiful china Cornelia had ever seen. It was even lovelier than her parent’s wedding china and Cornelia wanted to get a closer look but again, she couldn’t be rude.

  She looked at Mrs. Hakim. She still looked tiny. At least now she had a new hijab, so she did not have to sit before them bald. This hijab wasn’t as nice as the ones Mrs. Hakim wore at school. It was plain white with no ornamentation. It made her skin look darker, although Cornelia still thought she looked pale. She could see the corner of a bandage sticking out from under the hijab.

  “Welcome, girls,” Mrs. Hakim began. “You really did not have to come all this way to see me. I am perfectly fine.”

  “It was only five blocks,” Admeta said.

  “Even so, it was no necessary for you to burden yourselves,” Mrs. Hakim said, adjusting her hijab to make sure it was straight.

  “Where are my manners?” Daniel asked. “Please have a seat, girls,” he said, motioning toward the bench. “Can I get you anything?”

  “No, thank you,” the girls said in unison as they sat on the bench and Cornelia sat her purse on the floor by her feet. The dog came over and sniffed Cornelia’s purse, then laid down beside her.

  “Honey, can I get you something?” He said to Mrs. Hakim. Cornelia thought it was odd to hear him call her “honey.”

  “No, dear, I am fine. Is it not time to pick up the children?”

  “Oh, you’re right,” he said, glancing down at his watch with surprise. “You girls take good care of her while I’m gone,” he said before leaving and winked at his wife. She smiled back. He grabbed a leather coat off of the homemade coat rack in the foyer and headed out the door.

  After Daniel left, Mrs. Hakim said, “He fusses over me entirely too much.”

  Admeta said, “So how are you really, Mrs. H.?”

  “I told you, my dear Admeta, I am fine. You also fuss too much,” she said with a smile.

  “You nearly died yesterday,” Admeta persisted.

  “Now you exaggerate as well, my dear,” Mrs. Hakim said with a laugh. She pulled the blanket up toward her shoulders and Cornelia, too, got the impression that she might have been lying. “How was English class today?” Mrs. Hakim asked, trying to change the subject.

  “Stupid,” Admeta said.

  “Admeta,” Mrs. Hakim said in a weary tone.

  “I’m serious, Mrs. H. That guy Carl is missing a few screws.”

  “You mean Mr. Zeland,” Mrs. Hakim corrected.

  “No, I mean Carl. That’s what he told us to call him. Do you see what I mean? He’s weird, Mrs. H.”

  “I will concede that it is different when a teacher requests that you call him by his first name, but it is not ‘weird’ as you say,” Mrs. Hakim replied. “Just different,” she added for good measure.

  “If you say so, Mrs. H.,” Admeta said.

  “What did you think of English class, Cornelia?”

  “Huh?” Cornelia was startled for a moment. She had been lost in thought. “Oh, Carl was o.k. I guess,” she said. “It was too bad the book you wanted us to read was banned.”

  “What?” Mrs. Hakim asked, surprised.

  Admeta interjected, “Yeah, Mrs. H., the school said we couldn’t read it because it contained the n-word, so Carl is playing a censored version of the mini-series. It’s silly.”

  “I kind of like it,” Cornelia said, but Mrs. Hakim wasn’t paying attention.

  “They banned Adventures of Huckleberry Finn? But that is an American classic, no?” Mrs. Hakim asked, confused.

  “Yeah, Mrs. H., but the school doesn’t want us reading the n-word. Maybe they’re afraid we’ll start saying it or something,” Admeta responded, then she tried to avoid the glance she could feel coming from Cornelia. She truly hadn’t meant to offend her.

  “Well that is just ridiculous,” Mrs. Hakim said. “I have had you read Shakespeare and I have yet to hear anyone start speaking in Elizabethan English.” The girls both laughed, which diffused Cornelia’s discomfort, but Mrs. Hakim remained dismayed.

  Cornelia didn’t want Mrs. Hakim upset, so she tried to change the subject, “Are you really o.k., Mrs. Hakim?”

  “As I said, I am fine. Why do the two of you young ladies not want to believe that, may I ask?”

  “You -” Admeta began, but then hesitated.

  “Yes?” Mrs. Hakim asked.

  “Well, you don’t look so good, Mrs. H.,” Admeta said and then turned her eyes toward the floor. Mrs. Hakim did not look affronted.

  “And here I thought I was ready for the Miss America pageant,” Mrs. Hakim joked. Cornelia laughed but Admeta did not flinch.

  “I’m serious, Mrs. H.” Admeta said, looking back up at her.

  “I know that you are, my dear,�
�� Mrs. Hakim replied sympathetically. “But you must let me worry about my health, Admeta. That is not your burden to bear. Neither of you,” she added, looking at Cornelia.

  A tear was streaming down Admeta’s face and she wiped it away quickly. Cornelia offered, “We can’t help it, Mrs. Hakim.”

  Admeta offered, “We can’t lose you,” and another tear streamed down her right cheek as Cornelia nodded in agreement.

  Admeta wiped away the tear and added, “And we’re not going to lose you.” She almost sounded like she believed it.

  “That is a lovely sentiment, both of you, but you really must leave my health to me. You have more important things to worry about. Like your school work.” The girls said nothing. “And boys too, yes?” she added and winked at Cornelia.

  Cornelia did not smile. She couldn’t smile. She was just as concerned about Mrs. Hakim as Admeta. Perhaps more so because she had seen what breast cancer can do to someone. Mrs. Hakim was already showing the signs. She was pale and losing weight. Cornelia couldn’t help but think she looked very tiny underneath the massive quilt.

  “You’re deflecting again,” Admeta said, knowingly. Then a key turned in the lock and Mr. Hakim entered with three small children in tow. The two older children handed their coats to their father and then came running into the living room to hug their mother. Mr. Hakim hung the coats and then started getting the baby out of the carrier so he could take off her coat too.

  “Alright, alright,” Mrs. Hakim said, hugging her children. “I know you are excited to see me home again, my precious ones, but we have company, did you not see?” The children stood up and turned to face the girls. “Do you remember Admeta, children?” she asked.

  The oldest girl said, “Yes, momma.”

  “Then what do you say?”

  “Hello, Admeta,” the oldest girl and the little boy said in unison, waving to Admeta.

  “Good. And this is Cornelia,” she said, motioning to Cornelia. “Cornelia, this is our daughter, Raja and our son Nazeeh. And over there is our youngest daughter, Zayn,” she said, pointing to the coatless baby that Mr. Hakim was now holding in his arms. The baby was round and olive skinned with dark hair. She was wearing a pink dress and socks and leaning on her father’s shoulder, half asleep. Raja’s skin was much darker and her hair was as dark as raven’s feathers. Nazeeh’s complexion was lighter and his hair was light brown. Cornelia thought he looked more like his father.

  “What do you say?”

  “Hello Raja, hello Nazeeh,” Cornelia said. The children looked confused and Mrs. Hakim, her husband and Admeta laughed. As soon as the children heard the adults laughing, they knew it was o.k. to laugh themselves. Their laughter sounded like the cries of joy you hear from children at a carnival. Cornelia looked on in confusion.

  “I was speaking to the children, Cornelia. Youngsters should always greet their elders first,” she said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Cornelia said, contritely.

  “No, no, dear, do not apologize. You did not know. It was, how do you say, ‘off the hook,’ no?” That made everyone laugh even harder and Cornelia finally cracked a smile.

  “I don’t think you’re using that phrase, right, honey,” Daniel said, still laughing.

  “Well, I guess I’m not hip to the latest lingo then, no?” she asked.

  “Definitely not, Mrs. H.” Admeta said with a chuckle.

  When they were finished laughing, Mr. Hakim said, “I’m going to put Zayn down for a nap.”

  “O.k., dear,” Mrs. Hakim replied and then turned toward the children. “And children, you have homework to do, no?”

  “Yes, momma,” they replied in unison and then left the room as Admeta and Cornelia waved. Mrs. Hakim yawned and pulled the blanket in closer.

  “We don’t want to keep you, Mrs. H., I know you’re tired. We just wanted to check in,” Admeta said.

  “I appreciate it, really, but I know that you lovely young ladies have more important things to think about.”

  “Nothing is more important than cancer,” Cornelia said, sadly.

  “Oh, Cornelia, so cynical for such a young woman. There are certainly more important things than cancer, you will see. You are young. But, Ms. Admeta, you are right about me being tired. I appreciate the visit, ladies, but I really must rest now.”

  “When will you be back at school?” Admeta asked.

  “Oh, Admeta dear, let us just take it one day at a time, shall we?” Mrs. Hakim asked with a smile. But Cornelia could have sworn that the smile was masking a cringe of pain.

  “Then can we come again?” Admeta asked.

  “Well I do not believe you need to,” Mrs. Hakim began, but after seeing the look on Admeta’s face she conceded, “but if it will put your mind at ease, you may come by after school whenever you like.” Admeta smiled and Mrs. Hakim returned in kind. Cornelia was still uneasy as the girls said their good-byes, grabbed their coats and book bags and headed back to school to be picked up.

  Chapter 15

  The Long Road