Redeeming Honor

by E. A. West

  Meghan set a plate of food in front of him and another in front of her brother. “Do you guys want orange juice?”

  “I’ll get it, Megs,” Ryan said as he stood. “You get your own breakfast and sit down.”

  “Yes, sir.” Her laugh lightened the atmosphere of the room as she headed for the stove.

  Ryan grinned and turned to Basir. “You want orange juice?”

  “Sure.” He watched Meghan out of the corner of his eye. What would she think if he sought counseling? Would she approve, or would she think he was weak?

  Throughout the meal, Basir’s thoughts whirled around his aching head in a dizzying mess. One minute he thought he might be worthy of Meghan. The next he was certain he wasn’t worthy of any woman, let alone one as wonderful as Meghan. He went back and forth on whether counseling was a good idea as well.

  By the time he finished eating, he had decided the worst that could happen if he talked to a counselor was that he wasted his time. He still hadn’t decided if he could ever be considered worthy of his best friend’s sister. All he knew was that at some point he would have to either attempt to form a romantic relationship with her or move far away and never see her again. The latter option might be the best, but he couldn’t bring himself to give it serious consideration. Not when he felt led deep in his heart to be near her.

  As Meghan rose to clear the table, Ryan met Basir’s gaze. “You up to getting out of here for a while?”

  Basir knew his friend wanted to take him to the clinic for counseling. The dull throb in his skull wasn’t likely to get better if he stayed at the farm, so there wasn’t any point to delaying the trip. “Yes.”

  “Let’s go, then.” Ryan led the way out of the kitchen and stopped by the stairs. “You probably ought to grab that folder with all your papers in it. They’ll require at least some of that information during the check-in process.”

  Basir nodded and went upstairs for the file folder containing his important documents. Now that counseling was becoming a reality, anxiety hit. What if they told him they couldn’t do anything for him? When he had gone to the neurologist, full of hope for a complete recovery, he had received the news that he would never recover to the way he was before the explosion. His brain had suffered permanent damage that might improve with time, but the damage would always be there.

  Once he sat in the passenger seat of Ryan’s car and they were on the road, he turned to his friend. “You are sure this is a good idea?”

  “Yes.” Ryan glanced at him before returning his gaze to the road. “Remember what I said last night? Getting into counseling was the best thing I’ve done since moving in with Meghan. It’s helped me deal with the things I couldn’t move past, the things that were holding me back.”

  “But you come from a culture where talking about the way you feel is common.” Basir shook his head and looked out the window. “I don’t know if I can tell a stranger about the things I have been through and what they have done to me.”

  “You don’t have to tell the therapist everything in your first session. They expect you to hold stuff back until you get to know them and trust them. I think if you’ll give them a chance, they’ll be able to help you.”

  “Maybe.” Another concern sprang to mind, one that almost made him change his mind about going. “You said you talked to a woman the first time you went.”

  “I did, but that was just for the intake. They assigned me to a man for my regular sessions.”

  Basir remained quiet, unsure if his friend understood his concern. He didn’t want to come right out and ask if there was a way to ensure he only had to speak with a man. Too many times already he had made it clear that he was a foreigner in this land. It was something that would have to be addressed at some point, however. Talking to another man would be difficult enough. No way could he bring himself to admit anything to a woman.

  “We’ll be sure to tell them you would prefer to speak with a male counselor,” Ryan said, his voice filled with understanding. “They’ll do their best to make the process as painless as possible, which for you means ensuring a man does your intake and subsequent counseling.”

  At least he wouldn’t have to show his vulnerability to a strange woman. If he was going to show vulnerability to any woman, he wanted it to be Meghan. With her sweet nature, he had a feeling she would do her best to help him heal. He just had to find the courage to open himself up to her. Now that he thought about it, opening up to her might require less courage than telling Ryan how he felt about her.

  The community-based outpatient clinic was about half an hour away from Meghan’s farm. Inside, the receptionist handed Basir a stack of forms and a pen and instructed him to bring them back once he’d filled them out. He followed Ryan to a vacant corner of the waiting room and sat down with a sigh.

  “I can’t read these. Not today.” Just the thought made his head pound harder.

  Ryan sat in the chair beside him. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll fill them out. You just have to answer the questions I read to you.”

  Basir handed over the papers and pen, relieved he didn’t have to try to do it himself. If he did, it could take days to finish. As it was, with Ryan’s help, it took less than half an hour to answer the seemingly endless list of questions. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, giving them a rest from the constant burn of the lights overhead. Apparently, today’s migraine had decided to make his eyes more light sensitive than usual.

  “You want me to take these up to the receptionist for you?” Ryan asked.

  Torn between resting and responsibility, he settled on resting. “Yes, please.”

  “OK. Be right back.”

  The sounds of the other people in the waiting room faded into the background as Basir breathed deeply in an attempt to relax. Father God, help me through this. I can’t do it alone.

  The simple prayer repeated itself over and over while he waited for Ryan’s return. The mantra soothed his frayed nerves and helped him believe he could survive talking to a stranger about things he had trouble discussing with his best friend. Or perhaps it was God taking the burden from his shoulders and giving him the strength to face whatever lay ahead.

  Someone sat down beside him, and he opened his eyes to find Ryan watching him.

  “They’ll call your name just as soon as someone is free to talk to you. When I mentioned that you’d prefer talking to a man, the receptionist said she would put a note in your file and see to it.”

  “Thank you, my friend.” Basir managed a small smile, despite his continued apprehension about the upcoming intake session. At least he could lay one worry to rest.

  ~*~

  “How did it go?” Ryan asked as Basir joined him.

  “I have an appointment next week with the same man.” Basir lifted a hand to indicate they could go. As they left the clinic, he continued. “After we talked, he agreed it would be better for me to continue to see him rather than have to start over with someone new as my regular counselor.”

  “Good! I told you they’d make the process as painless as possible.” Ryan waited until they were in his car to speak again. “So, do you think this guy’s going to help you?”

  “Maybe. He is willing to listen to what I have to say, and he seems to understand that I need someone who can help me figure out how to adapt to American culture without completely losing myself.”

  “Hmm...I hadn’t thought about it like that before.” After a quiet moment, Ryan said, “Is that how you feel? Like if you accept American culture and become a part of it that you’ll lose yourself?”

  “A little. Things are so different here, and the way I was raised to believe and think is not always appreciated. But those ways are a part of me. I cannot leave them completely behind and still be me. On the other hand, I can’t hold on to them so tightly and still become American.”

  “When you put it like that, I see how difficult the adjustment is for you.”

  Basir wasn’t sure his
friend would ever be able to understand the difficulties he faced, but he appreciated the attempt. It was more than many people did.

  “While we’re on the topic of you adjusting to life here, how’s it going with Meghan?”

  The air left the car, and Basir stared at his friend. “What do you mean?”

  “I know you’ve been trying to become friends with her. I was wondering how that’s going. Is it getting easier for you to talk to her?”

  “Some.” Relief made it difficult to think. He really needed to talk to Ryan about his sister, but he was too afraid of damaging their friendship to risk it yet. “She is very patient and willing to do whatever she can to help me feel more comfortable.”

  “Is that why she’s been wearing more long skirts and jeans instead of shorts?”

  “Yes.” Heat flooded his face at the memory of his discussion with her the day he’d overreacted to her outfit. “She cornered me into explaining that her clothing made me uncomfortable that day in the garden. I didn’t ask her to change what she wears. She volunteered to do it despite me telling her she didn’t need to.”

  Ryan laughed. “That sounds like my sister. I sometimes think her goal in life is to help as many people as she can.”

  “She is a good woman.” Basir dug deep and found the courage to broach the subject that weighed so heavily on his heart and mind. “She will make a good wife someday.”

  “I’m sure she will, if she ever finds the right man.”

  As much as Basir wanted to believe he was that man, he knew too much stood in his way. It didn’t diminish his hope, however, that he might have a chance with Meghan.

  8

  Basir stopped the lawnmower and wiped sweat from his brow. At least it was cloudy, so he didn’t have to deal with the sun beating down on him and burning into his eyes. He hadn’t realized how hard mowing the grass between the house and the street would be. According to Ryan, using the riding lawnmower made the task easier, but Basir had to use a push mower because the riding mower had gone in for repairs a few days ago. He would have volunteered even if he had known using the push mower would be so difficult. Meghan’s smile was worth every bit of effort.

  He reached for the pull cord to restart the mower, but a small sound stopped him. He straightened and looked toward the road, but he didn’t see anything. The sound came again, the quiet mewling of a young animal. Unable to ignore it, he headed for the street, scanning the grass for the source of the sound. He finally found it in the ditch at the edge of the road.

  A small, dirty cardboard box sat in a patch of knee-high weeds. The mewling sounds definitely came from inside. Basir knelt and lifted one of the torn flaps of the box. Inside rested four tabby kittens that were too young to be away from their mother. Two of them weren’t moving at all. One was struggling to breathe, and the fourth wobbled around, calling in its tiny voice.

  “Oh, you poor babies.” Basir reached into the box and ran a finger along the two kittens that weren’t moving. Neither was breathing, and both were cold and stiff. Anger filled him that someone would abandon such young animals to die, but the mewing of the healthiest kitten broke through and he shoved the emotion aside. The two that still lived needed his care right now. He carefully lifted them from the box and tucked them into the hammock he made of his T-shirt by pulling up the hem. No way could he leave them with their dead littermates a moment longer. He stood and hurried toward the house, determined to do everything he could to help the kittens survive.

  Ryan came in from the barn as Basir pulled the milk from the refrigerator. He opened his mouth to speak, but a particularly loud mew cut him off.

  “What was that?” Ryan asked, stepping closer.

  “A kitten.” Basir set the milk on the counter and shifted the hem of his shirt aside to reveal the wretched creatures. “There were two more, but they were already dead when I found them.”

  “Where are they now?” Ryan asked as he moved to a cabinet and retrieved a small bowl.

  “In a box in the ditch by the road.” Basir watched his friend pour a small amount of milk in the bowl and carry it toward the microwave. “These two are too young to drink from a bowl.”

  Ryan paused and glanced at him over his shoulder. “How are you planning to give them the milk, then?”

  “I can dip the corner of a cloth in it and let them suck on that until I can get them a bottle. Unless there is a bottle around here small enough for them?”

  “No, we’ll have to go into town for one.” Ryan set the bowl in the microwave and turned it on. “There are dishcloths in that drawer by the sink.”

  Basir went to the indicated drawer and pulled out one of the folded cloths. By the time he settled in a chair at the table, Ryan had brought the warmed milk over and set it in front of him.

  “Anything else I can do to help?”

  Basir looked up at him. “Get another cloth and feed the noisy kitten. I will try to feed the other one, but I’m afraid it may not survive.”

  Within seconds, Ryan had retrieved a second dishcloth and dropped into the chair beside Basir. He accepted the healthier kitten and dipped a corner of the cloth in the milk. Basir scooped up the ill kitten and did the same.

  After a few moments, Ryan’s charge eagerly sucked the milk. Basir wished he was having as much luck. Unfortunately, the kitten appeared too weak to suckle a bit of cloth. He set it aside and dipped his index finger into the milk. The kitten showed a little more life when he let the milk drip on its mouth, but he held little hope for its recovery. It was just too weak to survive. He had to do everything he could for it, however.

  By the time the kitten Ryan held was sated, the kitten in Basir’s care had given up on eating and fallen asleep. Its labored breathing concerned Basir, and he looked at Ryan.

  “This little one is not well.”

  Ryan nodded and stroked the one he held. “This one seems to be OK, at least for the moment. We should take them to the vet, though, and get them checked out.”

  Basir rose and shifted the kitten in his hands. It was so tiny, so fragile. The kitten clung to its life, but only barely. His heart broke at the thought of the kitten Ryan carried being left as the only survivor. It would need extra love and care to ensure it grew into a healthy, happy cat.

  Ryan led the way through the house and out to his car. Basir settled into the passenger seat and laid the sickly kitten in his lap. He accepted the other one from his friend and laid it against its littermate, praying that small contact would be enough to help the sickly one. Ryan settled behind the wheel and started the engine.

  “After we get back, I’ll find that box you mentioned and take care of the dead ones. Meghan doesn’t need to see them. She’s got such a soft heart.”

  Basir lifted his gaze from the kittens in his lap, worry filling him. “Will she find them before we get back?”

  “I doubt it. She was planning to be gone all afternoon, remember? We should have plenty of time to get these little guys checked out and get back before she shows up.”

  Basir nodded and stroked the tiny furry bodies. He hoped she wouldn’t mind him taking care of the kittens. As Ryan had said, she had a soft heart. Basir could only pray that she would understand his need to care for the abandoned kittens.

  The vet at the edge of town didn’t offer much hope. “Well, there’s a chance this one will survive with the right care, but this other one... I’m afraid its chances of survival are nonexistent. The poor thing is too weak and malnourished to recover.”

  Basir looked at the kitten struggling to draw in a breath, his mind going back to Afghanistan. He remembered his grandfather saying something similar about a lamb that had been abandoned by its mother. Once its breathing grew too labored, his grandfather had shot it in the head to put it out of its misery.

  “What do you recommend?” Ryan asked.

  “Euthanasia for this one,” the vet said as he stroked the prominent ribcage of the sickly kitten. “It’s the most merciful thing you can do for it.”r />
  Basir nodded and picked up the other kitten, cradling it against his chest as he stroked its thin body. “This one, though, can live.”

  “Right. You’ll need kitten formula, and you’ll have to bottle feed it every two hours around the clock.”

  “Where can we get that?” Ryan asked.

  “The feed store carries the formula and the bottles.” The vet looked at the kitten still lying on the cold steel table. “Do you want to stay here while I put this one down?”

  Even as Ryan shook his head, Basir spoke. “I will stay. Even though it will not live much longer, it should know that it was not abandoned a second time.”

  Ryan laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Basir.”

  The vet nodded his agreement. “It will be over soon for the poor little guy. I’ll go get the necessary supplies.”

  Once he left the room, Ryan studied Basir. “You mind if I go get the formula and bottle while he does whatever it is he needs to do? I’d rather not be witness to that poor thing’s end, but I can hang around here if you want me to.”

  “Go get what this one needs,” Basir said, stroking the kitten curled up in his hand. “I think you need to not be here as much as I need to stay.”

  “Probably. I’ll be back as soon as I can. If you get done here before I get back, just wait in the waiting room.” Ryan left the exam room, and Basir reached down to pet the kitten lying on the table.

  “Soon you will suffer no more,” he whispered, unsure if it was even aware of his presence. “Know that you have at least one person who cared about you and will be sad when you are gone.”