Can I Die

(Sunday Afternoon, July 28th)

"I've been meaning to ask," Noah questions, "how's Princess Audrey?"

"Fine," Ben says, as he pulls the shelf product forward. "Why?"

He checks the expiration date on the beef jerky, "I just thought it would be really hard for her, after what happened on the Enchanted Forest case."

"The place does mean a lot to her," Ben recalls. "It must have been sad to see all those trees cut down."

"I think it would have been even more sad for her to see her family die," Noah informs.

Ben turns to him, mouth agape, "Excuse me?"

"When Audrey worked on the Enchanted Forest case, she saw the house her mother lived in," he explains. "There were girls there who looked just like her, and they were dead." Ben eyes down in thought, and he asks, "Did she not tell you?"

Ben wets his lips, "We weren't on good terms at the time."

"It would be hard for me too," Noah acknowledges. "The girl from the forest who worked for me, she was a dryad. Their family's lives were tied to one of the trees there."

Ben takes a moment, "Are you saying that the girl's family was the one in Audrey's mother's cottage?" He nods, and he questions, "And you think the dryad's family is part of Audrey's family?"

"Adding a hundred years and a human marriage," he verifies. "The princess is lucky she's even still alive. The dryads died when the tree died, because that tree was their mother. If Audrey came right from the tree like the others, she wouldn't have lived either."

"But someone on her mother's side would be from the tree, then?" Ben thinks.

"Maybe her grandmother's mother, someone who isn't alive anymore," he speculates. "We weren't told anyone in her family died when the tree died, so it wouldn't be any of them."

Ben shakes his head, "Audrey started an anti-hybrid petition last school year. She must hate knowing she's not the perfect daughter of God she thought she was. And an atheist is the last person she would tell about it."

"So, that's true, then?" Noah inquires.

Ben's frown deepens, as he moves to the next section of shelves, "A lot of things are true about me."

"Ben!"

He hears his father's yell and whispers, "Damn it." He told everyone not to tell his father where he works, but no doubt someone has taken a photo at some point and posted it.

His father spots him, "Ben."

"Don't say anything," Ben hurries, as he widens his eyes at Noah.

"What?" he panics in English. Ben glances back at his father, and he feels Noah grab his arm. "Ben." He's forgotten Noah isn't fluent in French, after how long he's been able to keep up with him.

Ben turns back and slowly states in English, "Don't do anything." before he sees his father come closer and moves towards the backroom.

His father grows nearer, and Ben backs into the other room. "Do you know how upset you've made your mother over not eating?"

Ben guesses, "Probably a lot."

His father grits his teeth and lifts a pointed hand, "Don't you dare get smart with me." Ben backs up more, and his father enters the room. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?" Ben opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. "Nothing?" His father steps forward, and Ben rounds the table; however, his father follows him. "What do you want? Money? Is this some ploy to get the money from that frozen account?"

Ben realizes, "You think I'm doing this on purpose."

"She thinks that's what it is, you know," he takes another step, and Ben finds himself against the wall. "She thinks I've pulled a rug out from under you, that this is about stress. If I'd let you keep that money, you'd get better." Ben observes his expression, as he squints, "You know what I think? I think you know exactly what you're doing. If you don't eat, then I risk losing my heir. To keep this family's status, I would have to give you anything you wanted." Ben continues to stare at him. "So, tell me what you want to stop this insolence." Ben notices Noah by the doorway and shakes his head. Noah cannot say or do anything. He must not. There's a hard blow to his stomach, and tears invade his eyes as all the air leaves his lungs. Ben drops to the ground, and his father towers over him, "I thought you'd be used to stomach pain by now." Ben holds his abdomen, as he leans against the wall with his knees to his chest. "So, all this trouble, and you have nothing to say for yourself?" His voice raises, "A king needs to be able to explain his actions." Ben fails to speak, and he shakes his head, "Pathetic kid." He strides back to the door, looks at Noah for a minute, and then moves past him.

Noah shuts the door and looks over him, "Ben?"

He gulps, "I'm taking my break."

He shakes his head, "This isn't a break." and when Ben looks down, he walks over to him. "Are you okay? I saw him…"

"I'm fine," Ben dismisses.

"Can I see?" he asks. Ben lifts his shirt just enough to show where he'd been punched, and Noah takes a breath, "That already looks bad."

Ben drops his shirt, "Nothing like a little internal bleeding." before he sees Noah's concern. "Sorry. Just a joke."

"Ben. We have to report this."

He shakes his head, "This wasn't a work accident."

"I wish this was just a work accident," Noah informs. "Ben. How much does this happen?"

He eyes down, "Not a lot. Mostly just when I do stupid stuff and he can't help himself."

Noah sits next to him, "This isn't your fault."

Ben looks at him, "My father gets ill with anger." and he grins with stress. "My mother always told me that since I have the luxury of being emotionally stable, it's my job to keep him from getting upset."

"But you're not emotionally stable." Noah reminds him, "You tried to kill yourself."

Ben takes a moment, "That's just weakness brought on by stress. It doesn't count."

"There are people with schizophrenia who tried stabbing their kids," Noah informs. "They didn't get to keep them." Ben stays silent, and he opinionates, "Being sick is never an excuse to hurt a child. You're still under eighteen. You can do something about this."

Ben contemplates, "Can I die? I just really want to die."

"I know it's hard," Noah acknowledges, "but you can make your life better."

"For how long?" He faces him, "Do I really have the right to hurt my mother's marriage and image, when I might not even live another full year?"

There's a shout from the main store area, and Noah sighs, "Just give me a minute. I'll be right back." Ben watches him leave, and he hears him apologize to the customer about not being available. Ben's brought his problems into work, and now it's affecting business. That customer could have gotten so upset that he'd have decided to steal what he couldn't buy. He folds his arms, feels the device in his pocket, and then pulls out the box cutter. He presses the handle, the blade extends, he lets go, and it retracts. He twirls the circle to the third level, presses the handle, lets it go, and repeats. The grey triangle is as long as the end of his thumb, and he listens as it clinks open and close. "Ben." He looks up from the blade, and Noah strides towards him, hand outstretched, "Give it to me."

Ben wets his lips, handing it to him, "I wasn't going to do anything."

"Follow me," he commands, and Ben stands from the floor. He follows him back to the register counter, before Noah enters the computer. "Am I fired?" Noah looks at him, and he explains, "It's just, I can't open boxes without a box cutter, and now you're on there."

He searches the area, before he hands Ben a different box cutter, "I hope it doesn't come to that."

Ben feels the plastic that wraps over the small, metal piece, "It looks like a letter opener."

"Should be pretty hard to cut yourself with that," Noah informs.

Ben eyes from the new box cutter to Noah, "But I liked my old one."

"And I like my employees alive," he dismisses. "If I give you a knife, knowing what I know, then if you use it to hurt yourself, it would be my fault." Ben quiets, and he faces him, "Is there anything I can do to get you to turn your father in?" Ben's frown deepens, and he shakes his head. "Okay, then."

Ben watches him type on the computer, "What are you doing?"

"Do you remember the form you signed?"

He glances down, "Sort of."

"There's a law that states that if an employee shows worrying behavior, it's on the employer to offer help," he mentions. "I might not be able to get you to turn in your father, but I can order you to seek grief counseling."

Ben shakes his head, "I don't know anyone who's died."

Noah sternly looks at him, "You think you will." and Ben eyes down.

He prints out a paper, "I'm sending you to someone you can talk to about this. They will let me know if you're meeting them."

"And if I don't?" Ben wonders.

Noah frowns at him, "Then I can't keep you." Ben looks away, and he explains, "The store could get fined for lack of employee care if you don't accept the help and something happens. We don't have a lot of money. It's not something I can risk."

Ben takes a moment, "I understand."

"Good. Because, I'd really like to help you."

Ben faces him, "How many sessions do I have to go to?"

Noah hesitates, "Either until the therapist clears you or I see a difference in your mood."

Ben awkwardly smiles, "Is this really necessary?"

He widens his eyes, "I really think it is."

Ben glances down, "If my parents find out… They won't like it."

"They don't need to know," he reassures. "You're sixteen. They can't tell your parents anything without you saying it's okay."

"My doctor tells them everything," Ben counters.

"That's different," Noah reassures. "Teenagers have a better chance of getting help if their parents don't have to know."

Ben contemplates, "I guess, I can always have them sign a secrecy contract."

"I really only want to help," he reminds him.

"Yeah." Ben nods, "Thank you."

"What's going on?" Carlos asks, as he watches Aziz and Aladdin staring at the television.

"There's been another Jihadist attack," Aladdin informs, before he turns to him. "Carlos. Until further notice, you don't go outside. That includes the balcony."

"What?" Carlos questions, "Why?"

"They went after a homosexual," Aziz answers for him.

"But they'll be caught, right?" Carlos nervously assumes.

"They wore a mask," Aladdin informs, "and they didn't use a weapon. All they left were footprints—hair, if we're lucky."

"It's not like the judges would do anything, if they were caught," Aziz murmurs, and Carlos shuffles to sit next to him.

He stares at the TV, as a couple cries, "At least they care."

"The jihadist didn't kill him," Aziz irritably responds. "They forced the man to throw himself off the roof." He looks at him, "They don't care that he's dead. They care that he won't make it to Heaven."

"Why wouldn't he make it to Heaven?" Carlos frowns.

Aladdin sighs, "Technically, he committed suicide. The general belief is that someone who rejects the life God gave them cannot meet Him in Heaven."

Aziz stands, "I'm going to go pray and sleep."

"Carlos," Aladdin addresses, "I know this must be shocking for you."

"I'm fine," Carlos dismisses, before he follows Aziz into the hallway. "Hey."

Aziz turns to him, "Carlos. The sooner I pray, the sooner I can sleep."

"I was just," Carlos stammers, "wondering if you would like someone to pray with you."

"You're not religious," Aziz frowns.

Carlos shrugs, "I'd still like to learn."

"I guess, you can join me," he unsurely replies, "but don't try to say anything. The prayer will be in Arabic."

"I can do that," Carlos smiles, and Aziz almost laughs.

He nods him into his room, "Come on, then." Carlos follows Aziz through the bedroom and into the bathroom, and he fills the sink with water. "We need to wash our hands, face, and feet, so we are clean for prayer."

Carlos watches him soak a hand towel in the basin, "You need to wash your feet?"

Aziz soaks a second towel before handing it to him, "You too."

He watches him clean his hands and feet and then repeats the actions, "Aren't our feet just going to get dirty again?"

"And?" Aziz points out, "It's not like you would be dirty for sex, just because you would be dirty again after." Carlos's eyes shift, and he gives a look, "You better be washing after. People can smell that on you."

"No one's said anything," Carlos quietly counters.

Aziz walks past him, "I know you don't sweat, but you still need to stay clean." before he rolls out his prayer mat and faces him. "By the way, you should be sweating."

"I drink water," Carlos dismisses.

"Drinking water won't do anything if you can't absorb it," Aziz informs. "You need to be eating more."

"You're telling me to eat more?" Carlos disbelieves.

"It will help slow the water, so the body has enough time to use it," he informs.

"Sorry," Carlos's brows furrow. "I'm still stuck on how you're telling me to eat. I'll eat anything you put in front of me. You know that."

"I know you still can't make it through three meals a day," he rebuttals.

"I used to live on one meal a day," Carlos defends. "Give me a break."

"Aziz." Aladdin looks into the room, "What's going on here?"

"Carlos wants to learn how we pray," he answers.

Aladdin looks at him, "Carlos?" and he nods in reassurance. "Okay. I'll let you two be."

After he leaves, Aziz instructs, "Do what I do, but don't try to speak."

Carlos nods, "Okay."

Aziz steps onto the prayer mat, lifts his hands, and Carlos copies his actions. He says something, moves his left hand to the right side of his chest, and moves his right hand over his left wrist. Carlos does the action, and he watches as Aziz starts the prayer. It takes so long, Carlos wonders why a mat would be needed for prayer if they're only standing; however, he recalls how long the prayers can be, and he waits a minute before Aziz lifts his hands, rests his arms at his sides, and places his hands on his knees to bow. He stands back up, lifts his hands, and then kneels on the floor before placing his hands onto the mat and lowering his head.

After Carlos catches up with his actions, Aziz moves back into a kneeling position and then places his hands and head back to the mat. He stands back up and moves into his starting position, his right hand placed over his left wrist, as he takes his time to finish the prayer. He lifts his hands, places them to his knees, and then bows a final time. Carlos takes a breath, as he notices Aziz repeat the bow and then place his hands and forehead to the mat again. He moves back to the kneeling position and then towards the mat again. He moves from the kneeling position, to the standing position, and then to his starting position. Aziz lifts his hands before placing them to his knees to bow. He stands up to lift his hands again, before he moves his hands and head back to the mat. He moves back to the kneeling position before doing it again, and after returning to the kneeling position, he stays there for a minute before looking to either side of him.

When Aziz stops speaking and stands, Carlos nearly smiles, "Is that it?"

"I know you're annoyed it took so long," Aziz acknowledges.

"Annoyed?" Carlos uneasily laughs, "Who needs exercise, when you can just pray?" Aziz partly smiles, and he unsurely asks, "What did you pray for?" Carlos assumes, "For that guy to get caught?"

Aziz's expression slips, "The five daily prayers are mostly quotes from the Quran. It's about connecting to God. It's not a time to ask for favors."

"But the prayer was like ten minutes," Carlos doubts. "You had to be praying for something."

"When we pray," he informs, "we're cleaning our soul of sin, as when we wash, we clean our bodies of dirt. The longer we pray, the cleaner we are."

"So," Carlos frowns, "you don't pray for anything else?"

"Just that God will forgive our mistakes and still love us," Aziz answers. "But God knows what's in our hearts. We don't need to tell Him anything. He will help us if we need it."

Carlos takes a moment, "And if a guy likes guys instead of girls?" Aziz fails to answer, and Carlos asks, "If God knows you're hurt, shouldn't He help you?"

Aziz's eyes widen, "I don't question God or His plans for me."

"And what plans are those?" Carlos counters.

He evenly expresses, "I get to rule this holy kingdom and heir in a new generation."

"Holy kingdom?" Carlos disbelieves. "You just saw a man get killed for your God."

"And, maybe, if that man could have focused on helping others or obeying God rather than fulfill his own lustful sins," Aziz asserts, "maybe it wouldn't have happened."

"But you kissed me," Carlos angrily reminds him. "You're only fifteen, Az. Do you really think that by the time you're twenty-five, you won't be fucking some man?"

His eyes narrow, "No. Because, I will be married by the time I'm twenty-one to secure the throne, and part of a wife's duty is to keep her husband from sin."

Carlos shakes his head, "You can't distract yourself forever."

Aziz takes a deep breath, "Look. I know that you might not have anyone you want to see in Heaven, but do you realize how long an eternity is? It's forever, Carlos—longer than forever—and I don't plan on spending it being tormented in a fiery Hell with demons clawing at my skin, when I could be spending it in peace with my family and God." Carlos stares at him, and Aziz tries to smile, "You could see God, Carlos. Isn't a life of abstinence or procreation worth seeing the Creator of all things?"

"I've seen a god," Carlos comments. "If they're all like him, it's not worth it."

"We're not talking about a god." Aziz stresses, "We're talking about the God, His Greatest and Most Merciful."

"A merciful god wouldn't send you to Hell for a biology he gave you," Carlos inputs.

"It's not my biology," Aziz dismisses. "Homosexuality is a mental illness created by the devil to prevent God's creatures from flourishing and thin out the human population."

Carlos sighs, "You don't believe that, do you?"

He reaches for his arms, "Carlos. I know with God I can beat this. And when I make it to Heaven, I'd really like it if I could see you there." Carlos's mouth hangs open in lack of response, and he continues, "You didn't deserve the Isle, and you don't deserve Hell. Please. I know we can stay strong if we work through this together."

He shuts his eyes, "Sure."

"Really?" Aziz hopes.

Carlos unenthusiastically comments, "I'm doing this, so you don't have to. I'll pray with you, and I will find a girl this year to date. But when I fail, don't tell me I didn't try. And don't tell me it will be different for you, because it won't be."

"I'm so happy, now," Aziz grins.

Carlos takes a deep breath, "I'm suddenly tired."

"Set an alarm for five," he eagerly instructs. "Next prayer is before sunrise."

- Posted: 12/26/2019

- Megan Thank you for sharing your story. I'm glad the help you were offered was successful.

- Merry Christmas. I hope everyone is having a decent holiday season.