Unbroken Threads

by Jennifer Klepper

  “Fine. Kind of boring. What’s for breakfast?”

  “Same as always.”

  He made no effort to move, looking expectantly at her.

  She gestured toward the kitchen, not taking his bait and not offering to be a short-order cook this morning. “I think you can manage.”

  He hiked his eyebrows and grinned. “Worth asking.”

  Jessica glanced up at the TV. “Oh my God!” She scrambled for the remote and turned up the volume, ignoring the glare from Danny.

  The caption at the bottom of the screen read, “Local restaurant vandalized.” The reporter was talking, but Jessica was too distracted by the scene to process what she was saying. Behind the reporter stood a three-story brick building with a fading watch shop advertisement on its side. The restaurant windows were smashed, and the restaurant name lay scattered in shards on the ground.

  Bathanjaan. Jessica moved directly in front of the TV. The reporter was wrapping up, but Jessica caught enough to understand that someone had vandalized the restaurant overnight. As the cameraman panned the scene, Jessica spotted the back of a small woman in a gray-and-white hijab, speaking to a police officer. Amina. Shit. She had to get up there.

  Danny looked over the top of his newspaper, appearing more curious than annoyed but still annoyed. “What’s going on?”

  “Bathanjaan—Amina’s cousin’s restaurant—was vandalized last night. In Baltimore. Some kind of anti-Muslim attack. I just saw her on the news. She was talking to the police. I need to get up there.” Jessica looked over at the coffeepot to see if there would be enough for a to-go cup.

  “Wait. What? Why do you need to go up there?” Full annoyance filled Danny’s rising voice.

  “She’s my client.”

  “Hold on,” Danny said. “Let’s think about this first.”

  “What do you mean, ‘think about this’? There’s nothing to think about.” Indignation rose in Jessica’s chest, pushing away her earlier plans.

  “What I mean is don’t go out of your way to insert yourself where you don’t need to. You aren’t her cousin’s lawyer. You aren’t her caretaker. You are her asylum attorney, and this”—he waved his hand at the TV—“this has nothing to do with that. I told you this kind of thing was going to happen. And I don’t want you or us involved.”

  The protective bubble burst. “I’m going. She has a problem with the police. Don’t look at me like that. That’s not what I mean. You have to understand that her life, her family in Syria... The police there do awful things. I can’t even tell you. Plus, she worries that having any involvement with the police could jeopardize her asylum claim.” And that’s why all the mess from that night in Baltimore. And why I didn’t tell you.

  Danny rose from the couch, his chest puffed out and his shoulders back, leaving his discarded newspaper askew on the coffee table.

  Jessica moderated her tone, remembering the task she still needed to accomplish when she got home. “I’ll be fine, Danny. The police are there. It’s probably just some stupid kids who got kicked out of the bars after last call, not a vast anti-Muslim campaign that’s going to end up on our front porch. I’m just going to lend some moral support. Amina is already worried because of the bombings in California and all of the crazy talk.” Her eyes locked with Danny’s, and she strained to maintain softness in her own to counter the bitter anger in his.

  Danny tensed, clenching and unclenching his fists, either preparing for or fending off an explosion. But it seemed as though he also thought it was something to put off until later. “Fuck. Fine. I’m coming with you.”

  “I’m coming, too.”

  Jessica and Danny swiveled in unison. She had forgotten Conor was in the room. He stood there, his hair a mess, with milk dripping from his cereal bowl. Of course he would want to go. He had a stake in what was happening with Amina, and Jessica wasn’t going to tell him no. Apparently, Danny wasn’t, either, but he glared accusingly at Jessica for getting them all involved in something he thought had nothing to do with them.

  THE drive into the city was an exercise in silence, broken only when Jessica gave clipped directions to Danny for when to turn. On a Sunday morning in Baltimore, finding a parking spot should have been a breeze, but the fire trucks, news trucks, and onlookers forced Danny to park around the corner from the restaurant. As they approached, Jessica couldn’t even see the restaurant through the crowd of people that seemed drawn, as if to a train wreck, despite the bitter cold.

  Jessica needled her way past rubberneckers, bumping into a local news cameraman. The on-the-scene correspondent Jessica had seen on the news earlier was reviewing her notes. Jessica’s stomach turned in disgust as she looked past the bleached-blond reporter and scanned the storefront. In blood-red spray paint, someone had written, “go hom muslims.” Dumb bastards couldn’t even spell. A swastika marked the doorway. Always a nice touch.

  The police tape blocked her from getting close to the building. Darkness hid most of the restaurant’s interior, but judging from the tipped tables by the gaping windows, the vandals had gambled that they had a few extra minutes to do damage inside before someone walked by.

  She stopped herself from gawking like the other bystanders and turned to scan the crowd instead. The old woman she had seen in the restaurant, reading a book, a few months ago, stood on the corner, speaking close to Amina’s ear. As Jessica approached, the two parted, and Amina thanked the woman.

  Amina turned to Jessica, surprise apparent on her face. “How did you hear?” She grabbed Jessica’s hands.

  “The news this morning. I am so sorry.”

  Amina opened her mouth to respond, but her eyes suddenly shifted away from Jessica, and she shut her mouth.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Jessica saw Danny approaching. “Danny and Conor insisted on coming. We all feel terrible. Is there anything we can do?” It was such an empty question.

  “I don’t know. I—” Amina stopped as a familiar-looking bearded man in a heavy wool coat and knit hat approached. “Fayiz, this is my attorney, Jessica Donnelly, and her husband, Danny, and son, Conor. This is my cousin, Fayiz Darbi.”

  The flipped-up collar of Fayiz’s jacket hid part of his face, but the waterfalling smile would have been enough to remind Jessica of the hospitable restaurant host she had met on her first visit to Bathanjaan. After Fayiz thanked each of the Donnellys for coming, a man holding a clipboard emblazoned with an insurance company logo called him away from the small group.

  Just past the insurance guy, Jessica noticed a woman holding an infant and standing next to two small boys. The boys were spitting images of each other, one just inches shorter than the other. Both had jet-black hair that fell in soft curls, and each of them was wearing a fire-engine-red ski jacket and black snow boots. Jessica caught Amina’s attention and tilted her head in the woman’s direction. “Sama?”

  “Yes. Please, let me introduce you,” Amina said.

  Jessica smiled apologetically at Danny and excused herself.

  She was already feeling the effects of the cold. It wasn’t the lightning-quick, piercing cold she remembered from her childhood when she would step outside and instantly feel her lungs contract to the deepest well of warmth within. Instead, this was the type of cold that seeped in slowly, almost taking her unawares, but sticking out barbs once it got inside so it was hard to shake off.

  In her haste to get to Baltimore that morning, Jessica had not thought to bring a hat. Precious body heat escaped as the Maryland cold took advantage of her vulnerability. She eyed Amina’s scarf with envy.

  Sama nodded when introduced then spoke with the hesitant English Jessica recalled from the restaurant. “I am sorry this is how we meet.”

  “So am I. But I’m glad to meet some of Amina’s family formally. I hope you’re able to get the restaurant back in shape quickly. I don’t know if you remember, but—”

  “Yes, I remember. I was pregnant.” Sama cooed at the bundle in her arms. Tiny eyes and a tiny nose barely pe
eked through the blanket protecting the baby from the cold.

  “It’s freezing out here,” Jessica said. “Can we take you home? All four of you?” Jessica lowered her voice so little ears wouldn’t hear her. “Aren’t you worried that your boys will be scared down here?”

  Sama shook her head emphatically. “No. Thank you. It is important they see that a few cowards in night can do hate, but in daylight, today, many good people help. They learn what is right.” There was a lot of support on such a frigid morning, idle onlookers notwithstanding. Jessica could see it was a good message for anyone to take away from such a hateful event.

  Jessica bent down toward the boys and asked them how old they were and what their favorite games were. They excitedly told her about dinosaurs, and Jessica had to make a quick trip back into her internal archives to remember the difference between an iguanodon and a stegosaurus so she could engage in a pretty high-level discussion about giant, extinct lizards. She straightened back up after being corrected regarding T. Rex, which was not the largest dinosaur, as that would of course be the Titanosaur.

  Words started to form in Jessica’s mouth as she faced Sama. Words about how this was all contrary to American values and that people do change, but sometimes acceptance takes time, and blah, blah, blah. She rolled her eyes at the mere idea of such a condescending platitude and placed her hand on Sama’s shoulder. “Sama, anything you need, please let me know. I will be bringing the family for kibbeh and kababs as soon as you’re back open.” That is, she would if Danny let her out of the house again.

  Jessica turned back toward where she had left her own boys. True to teenage form, Conor stood off to the side, with his eyes glued to his phone. Danny, on the other hand, appeared to be deep in discussion with Fayiz, probably trying to use his personable charm to uncover evidence that Fayiz was an ISIS plant.

  Walking past the yellow police tape toward Danny and Fayiz, Jessica hoped to intervene in case Danny had overstepped his bounds. Her lungs emptied in an uncontrollable rush when a quick glance through the open restaurant window led her eyes to a burly, irregular slab of wood, centuries old, bleeding with red spray paint. The shattered glass, the busted furniture, and the vandalized walls were just broken things. This, however... this was a desecration. She stood, mourning a dead tree and a lost sense of faith, until the cold barbs pricking her fingers and Danny’s continuing conversation with Fayiz, spurred her to move forward.

  Fayiz motioned toward Jessica as she neared. “And her?”

  “Ah, no. Poor Jessica is a Vikings fan.” The men looked at each other with feigned pity. “We tried to convert her, but she’s too stubborn.” Danny winked.

  This wasn’t the Danny who had driven her there, and it didn’t seem as if he were performing a covert interrogation.

  “We were just talking about the playoffs, hon. The Darbis are Ravens fans.”

  Fayiz smiled. “Good reason to emigrate to Baltimore, no?” He seemed impressively at ease, all things considered.

  Jessica looked over at her other Ravens fan, wondering why Conor wasn’t part of this conversation. Her son was still on his phone. If she weren’t in public right now, Jessica would have sent that phone flying down the street, shattering it into a thousand pieces. She snapped her fingers at him discretely but got no response. Hissing came next. Finally, she walked over. “Conor—”

  Conor pushed past her, seemingly oblivious to her presence, let alone her irritation. “Mr. Darbi, have you checked your restaurant’s online reviews?”

  “Conor, Mr. Darbi doesn’t have time for that right now.” Jessica looked at Fayiz and mouthed, “I’m so sorry. Teenagers.”

  “No, Mom, look.” Conor handed his phone to Jessica, who held it so both she and Fayiz could read it.

  Danny followed the interaction with interest but didn’t speak.

  As Jessica scrolled slowly through the page, they saw review after review of messages praising the restaurant, the food, and the owners.

  “Best kebabs in the Mid-Atlantic.”

  “The owner always makes you feel welcome and encourages you to try a new recipe—which you never regret doing.”

  “Baltimore is lucky the Darbis decided to establish their restaurant in our town.”

  And the rave reviews continued.

  “Okay, Conor,” Jessica said. “Great reviews. It really is a great restaurant, and I’m sure Mr. Darbi has seen these. What am I missing?”

  “Check the dates.”

  She obliged. Positive review after positive review had been posted that morning.

  “That’s not the only review site, either, Mom. I pulled up some others, and the same thing is happening.”

  “Well...” Fayiz nodded to Danny as though concluding an unfinished conversation. “I guess we need to get cleaned up and opened again so we can thank all these people with some good food.”

  “We’re not all bad,” Jessica said softly, mostly to herself.

  “I know,” Fayiz responded. “Neither are we.”

  Danny pursed his lips and ran his gloved fingers over his hair, matting it awkwardly. Before Jessica could pass the phone back to Conor, a text popped up then popped off. Heat is on delete ur texts no pix.

  Under no circumstances could that be good.

  “Mom?” Conor reached out his hand. “My phone?”

  “Oh, sorry. I spaced out.” Jessica clicked the phone off and handed it over.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  The ride home was as silent as the ride to Baltimore, quieter even since Jessica didn’t have to give directions. Danny didn’t speak a word and kept his eyes firmly focused on the road ahead. Jessica wasn’t sure what to make of it, or what to make of anything, really. Her plan for the day had been flipped on its head.

  Shoving all of this in Danny’s face—Amina and more broken, shattered pieces of violence connected to her—was not the context Jessica had wanted for the conversation she had crafted in her head.

  The Darbis had seemed ready to get back to work, though. Fayiz had assured her they should be back up and running in about a week and that everything could be replaced.

  Almost everything.

  Jessica peered over her shoulder into the back seat to get her mind off the table and off her disrupted reconciliation plans. Conor was typing away on his phone, oblivious to her stare.

  Heat is on delete ur texts no pix. Jessica’s imagination coursed through its full creative scope to come up with what that could mean. Visions of every movie, TV show, and newspaper article about teenage bad behavior flashed through her mind. Break-ins, stealing booze, sexting, meth labs. Conor was no criminal mastermind, and surely he was too awkward for sexting. But maybe his friends were... and weren’t. Who are your friends? Why haven’t I insisted on meeting them? All he’d had to do was help her out for her to let her guard down and forget he was a teenager who had, practically yesterday, been a huge pain in the ass. If he was in trouble, Danny would likely blame her.

  After finally arriving home, Conor got the welcome from the dog and instructions from Danny to go feed her. Jessica took the travel mugs to the sink to wash them, letting Danny resume his interrupted newspaper ritual. But there was no sound of rustling newsprint.

  “Conor.” Danny called his son over when he came back into the room. “When you duped those photos from Mrs. Hamid, did you keep a copy of them on our computer?”

  Conor looked at Jessica with wide eyes. He hadn’t kept a copy of them on their computer... the first time he’d copied them, anyway.

  Jessica stepped in. “I have a copy of them. Why?”

  Conor’s eyes said, “Thank you.”

  Jessica wasn’t ready to go after him about the text, but he would have to answer to her later.

  Danny squinted, his deep thoughts turning into slow words. “We’ve been working on a new biometrics platform, and it needs to be tested. If I can get those photos, we can see if we can match up any of those faces with images across the Internet.”

  “I do
n’t understand,” Jessica said. “Match up faces?”

  “We might be able to find her family. Fayiz told me Amina hasn’t been in touch with anyone.”

  Conor caught Jessica’s eye, silently asking his mother who was this strange man offering to help.

  She shrugged at Danny, not wanting to jinx the goodwill by overreacting, but she was still wary that this was somehow a trap. “Okay... I’ll check with Amina to get her sign-off. I’m sure she’ll be fine with it.”

  Danny continued. “And, Conor, would you like to come in to the office to help with this?”

  “Great, Dad. Sounds good. I’m gonna go work on my homework.”

  Danny smirked in self-satisfaction that he’d so easily convinced their reluctant son to help.

  After Jessica heard Conor step on the uppermost creaky stair, she broached the subject of the baffling change in Danny. “What’s up with the photos? Why the offer to help?”

  “Fayiz.” Danny approached her. “He seems like a good guy.”

  “Why wouldn’t he be?”

  “Well, of course he would be.” He ran his fingers through his hair, leaving portions sticking straight up this time. “But I was really impressed with him. Not just from talking with him. It was the people coming up to sympathize and offer help with cleanup. He and his restaurant are a part of the fabric of that neighborhood. He’s generated a lot of goodwill, and that’s not easy in any business. I can’t even imagine accomplishing that as a foreigner.”

  Jessica quietly pulled out some ground beef and turned on the stovetop, letting Danny talk while she made chili.

  “You know all of the news stories about the refugees? So many dying when boats sink or when they’re packed into vans going over the border?”

  Jessica nodded.

  “He told me he learned that his sister and her family finally left Syria, but he hasn’t heard from them in months. He’s afraid he’s going to see them dead on a beach on TV.”