by Jaz Johnson
“So what is your first question?” Glover asked, now that they were driving along the highway. With one hand comfortably on the top of the steering wheel, they were going a smooth 55 mph. Saphora folded her hands in her lap and nodded.
“What’s your name?” she asked, turning her head to look at him while he watched the road. “Your first name.” Glover grinned, exhaling a chuckle through his nose.
“Dani,” he answered honestly. Saphora nodded, poking her lip out.
“Huh. I half expected you to say something I couldn’t pronounce.” Glover laughed.
“Why, because I am Arabian?”
“Precisely because you’re Arabian.”
“Yes, well, my mother was very considerate when naming me, I suppose,” he said, as he switched lanes.
“And what about your last name? Glover doesn’t strike me as very Arabian.” Glover nodded.
“Yes. It is my father’s last name. He’s Scottish.”
“Oh, I see.”
“And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“I know your first name, but not your last. Or do you take Fran’s last name?” Saphora shook her head.
“No, I don’t.”
“So what is it, then?” Saphora hesitated before answering.
“Kiran.”
“Kiran,” Glover repeated, searching his knowledge for what nationality that may have fallen under. “What is that?” Saphora grinned, shaking her head. Instead of even considering her answer, she merely said,
“Can’t remember.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It can’t be helped. Next question. Being an Arabian, you know what they go through here, right?” Glover paused.
“Yes …”
“Have you ever had to deport another Arabian?” Glover grimaced.
“Yes.”
“Even if you knew they had done nothing wrong?” Looking at Saphora for a brief moment, he frowned, shaking his head and returning his attention to the road.
“Why are you asking me this?”
“How many times?”
“What?”
“Deported an innocent man? Locked away an innocent man. How many-”
“Once,” he said in aggravation. Saphora paused, almost surprised by his answer. She nodded, reading his expression.
“You hated it.”
Glover sighed, blinking a few times and adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. “Would you ever do it again?” Glover was silent, his jaw clenching. “Would you?”
“No,” he finally answered. “Never again.” Switching lanes as he approached his desired exit, he grumbled. “Next question.” Saphora nodded, looking out the window as she thought of another to ask. And as she did, something in the side mirror caught her attention. It took a moment for her eyes to make out what it was. But when they did, they widened in horror. Her breath caught in her throat as she struggled to keep breathing. And with a strained exhale, she found the words,
“Oh my god.”