No Bag Left Unchecked, and Bach
"And finally, security at all nationwide airports will be checking more closely at both luggage and personal baggage, for the protection of the people."
The fancily dressed security man stepped down from the podium on the TV. Reporters called out questions, but he just kept on walking to the side. Next thing I knew they were playing the national anthem on the TV, for the one millionth time this week.
Jaime jumped to her feet as soon as the music played.
"That's ridiculous!" she shouted.
I looked up to her from my spot on the couch. "Jaime, the country was just attacked by crazed terrorists. Yes I will admit they might be taking it over the extreme a little bit, but still. It's okay to overact, especially in a situation like this."
Jaime's sucked in her breath in anger. "But still, we were the victims! Why must we suffer? It should be them suffering. They did this, not us!"
"Jaime hush, Kakali is right in the kitchen."
"She's an Indian Muslim Lucy. It's not the same a Middle Eastern Muslims. God, you're so narrow-minded."
That did it for me. I jumped up to my feet and looked my older sister (by two years big whoop) straight in the eye.
"Oh, I'm being narrow-minded? Look at you! You want to condemn people who didn't even do anything!"
"I'm talking about the people who blew us up! They should only punish the people who did this, not the ones living in shacks in the desert."
"They are already being punished! They're burning in Hell now for their sins!"
"But there still are others Lucy! Only some died yesterday. There are still hundreds living out there! And yet their sitting in airports changing baby bag for bombs instead of going out there and finding the others! They say America lives for justice. Well is it? Where is America's justice?"
"ENOUGH!"
We both jumped, startled by Uncle Thomas's yelling. He only yells on two occasions: One, when he's really angry. Two, when the Jets loose.
Uncle Thomas looked at both of us. He looked sternly at me, but even more sternly at Jaime. We booth looked down at our shoes.
"Sit." He pointed to the couch. With trembling knees, we went to the couch.
"It's your fault," I whispered to Jaime.
"No, it's yours!"
"Yours!"
"Yours!"
"Yours!"
"Yours!"
"Your-"
We both looked up at Uncle Thomas as he cleared his throat. Crossing his arms over his chest, he looked down at the two of us. He gave us the look. Oh no, not the look. My belly lunged.
"Now girls," he said, but was interrupted by Jaime.
"Uncle Thomas, don't you think that the government should be more focused on finding the other men who did this than stupid baggage check?"
He nodded. "Yes I do, but-"
"And we shouldn't punish or hate the people of the same culture just because of a few people sins' right? I mean, you hit child if his brother stole something right?"
Again he nodded at me. "You're right Lucy but if you let me-"
"Then tell Lucy what's right," Jaime said pointing a finger at me.
"Make Jaime see the light," I said also pointing a finger at her.
"Girls!"
Kakali's hissing stopped us both. She shot us a looked with her dark brown eyes, putting a finger to her mouth. "You girls are trying to resolve an argument yet you won't let your uncle get a word in."
Uncle Thomas turned his head and nodded at Kakali. "Thanks Kakali."
Kakali return to the kitchen and we returned to the stare.
Uncle Thomas rubbed his eyes. "Now you both are right, but also wrong."
"Huh?" we both said our mouths' hanging.
He sat down between us on the couch, putting an arm around both us. "Now, Jaime you want the U.S. to go and find the other members of the Al-Qaeda and have them punished, is that right?"
Jaime nodded.
"Well for starters, I highly doubt, with the state we're in, the U.S. can just go and ship out thousands of troops overnight. Not to mention the tension that will between the two nations. Not to mention the large sums of money needed to do it. Jaime you have to see, it's not a one, two, three thing. It takes planning and patience. Something you will eventually will have to learn to use."
That was entirely true. Jaime was terrible when it came to waiting. She got it from our mother, who never seemed to wait on any line at amusement parks (not even at Disneyworld).
Jaime crossed her arms over her chest with a huff. If there's one thing she hated more than waiting, it was having to come to the "startling" realization that she was wrong.
I couldn't help but let out a little smile. It faded as Uncle Thomas turned to me. Now it was Jaime who was smiling.
"As for you little hippie." Uncle Thomas looked directly at me. "You seem to be keeping the peace in this situation, which is a little surprising."
I shrugged. "Eh, I try."
Uncle Thomas was stifling a chuckle. I could see it. "Anyway," he continued. "You have the right idea about not condemning the whole group of people-"
I pointed straight at Jaime. "Ha!"
"But . . ." Uncle Thomas lowered my hand. "First it's not polite to point. And second, this is what I'm talking about; you can't just jump and condemn others who say otherwise. Let them talk, calmly explain their side. You have to listen Lucy." He tugged on my ear. I giggled.
"I do Uncle Thomas. I do listen. Just not to Jaime."
Jaime muttered something I didn't-and probably didn't want to-catch.
Uncle Thomas kissed us both on the head. It seemed, like there was nothing Uncle Thomas couldn't do or say to help us or make us feel better. He walked out of the living room, down the hall, and then we heard the door to his room slowly close.
We looked at each other. After an awkward minute of silence, I out my hand. "Sisters?"
Jaime side-glanced it. Then we slapped. We knuckled touched, and then high-fived. It's our Sister Sake. We made it up after our parents died. Picture it, if you will, like a country signing a peace treaty after a war.
We hugged. Sisterly hugged. Then, as Jaime was about to leave the room, she turned to me. "'Make Jaime see the light'?"
I chuckled. "I'm not goanna lie. I got that line from a movie."
Walking in the halls of my apartment building is fun. Some people leave their doors unlock, in case someone with a problem comes by and needs help.
There are seventeen floors in our building and we live on the thirteenth, the best one. It's basically occupied with old people, some nice, some not, some in wheelchairs. Many of the old ladies bake treats for my sister and me. However, Jaime at the time is going through this "I'm fat" phase, so now I get the treats. Her loss.
Sophia usually made the best cookies. Sophia was an old Trinidadian lady, around fifty-five I think, who lives alone in her apartment. She use to have a bakery downtown, but ever since she hurt her back, her daughter's been running it.
Poor old Sophia gets lonely in her apartment. So I go everyday to cheer her up. I didn't go yesterday, and I haven't seen her, so I was curious to know what she thought of the attacks.
Sophia always kept her door unlocked, so I usually just knock and go in. As I was just about to do that, I heard a sound from her apartment I've never heard before.
A piano. Piano? The only instrument I've ever heard Sophia play was the spoons. I didn't even know she owned a piano.
Opening the door quietly, I poked my head in. Sitting on the couch, a young boy played the electric keyboard vibrantly. It was fancy music. Like something you would hear during dinner on the Titanic.
I walked in, moving towards the couch. The boy was so into his music, he didn't really seem to notice me standing next to the couch.
I started moving my head to the smooth beat. It was kind of like a lullaby, only I wasn't falling asleep.
Finally the boy stopped, moving his hands gracefully off the keyboard. He looked at me and smiled. "Bach."
I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "Sorry?"
"That was Bach Minuet in G." He began cracking his knuckles. "I started it yesterday. Still a little rusty, but I just have to practice."
"A little rusty? That sounded perfect!"
He lifted a finger. "Ah yes, to the ear of a listener. Listeners just hear music. Musicians just hear mistakes."
I whistle. "That's deep stuff."
He nodded. "I know." He moved over a little and patted a seat next to him on the couch. I sat next to him. Holding out my hand, I said, "Lucy."
For a second he looked at my hand as if he didn't know what to do with it. Then he took it and shook it. "Jason."
Looking back at his keyboard, he said, "Even though Bach isn't perfect, I've lately been playing this."
The national anthem rang out as he hit the right keys. It was a steady tempo, steady and peaceful. Like the people recovering.
I looked at him. "So how did you end up in Sophia's apartment?"
"She's my grandma." He stopped playing and just looked down at the keyboard. "I'm moving in with her."
"Where're you from?" I asked.
"Philly?"
"Philadelphia Philly?
He nodded.
That's cool. I wonder if he's ever had a Philly-cheese steak? Of course he has. Those things are good (in my opinion).
As Jason continued with the anthem, I suddenly felt an urge to ask him this. "What do you think government should do about the terrorists?"
Jason shrugged as he continued playing. "Personally I'm pro-peace, but in this case, I think maybe they should send someone to talk, before the guns come out. I just hope they don't hurt the people."
I sat up and looked at him. "Really? You think so?"
He nodded. "Absolutely. They didn't do anything, why should they also be punished? You kicked all stray dogs just because one went through your garbage."
I smile and moved closer to him. "Jason, I feel this is the start of a beautiful friendship."