"Al'umu! Ab! I'm home!" Nicholas called, twisting the key into the rusty lock and heaving the door open with his shoulder. The old oak gave under his weight and swung open, nearly taking him with it, and he barely had time to step foot into his living room before the incurable hurricane that was his brother came whooshing down the hall, over the furniture, and around a potted aloe, to wrap himself firmly around the first part of Nicholas he could reach-that being his legs-and squeezing tightly.
"Ah! Akhi!" Nicholas exclaimed, the sudden explosion of weight throwing him slightly off balance. His arms pinwheeled backwards and he grabbed the nearest wall to steady himself, already chuckling at the innocent brown eyes peering up at him. "Kalimati! You're going to kill me one of these days!" he laughed, kneeling down to ruffle his sibling's hair to show him he wasn't actually upset. "How's my favorite little brother been today? Behaving himself, I hope?"
"I'm only little brother," Nino retorted with an indignant huff, stepping away and crossing his arms to pout.
At this, Nicholas grinned, slowly standing up as his brother finally let go. The only one for right now, he thought. But possibly not for much longer, his mind quickly flashed as he heard the footsteps from the kitchen and, scooping Nino into his arms and dangling him on his head by his feet (much to the child's both amusement and horror), grinning wickedly as his mother appeared around the bend, a spatula dripping with cake batter in hand.
"Nikulas! Bihaqi alsama' , 'unzil bi'akhik qabl 'an tusqitah ealaa rasihi!"
Loosely translated, that meant, "Nicholas! For Heaven's sake, put your brother down before you drop him on his head!" and Nicholas was proud of his ability to immediately transition to French.
"Sorry, Mother," he apologized in Arabic. "I guess I got a little carried away. Wheeoop!" he cheered, flipping Nino back over and setting him down gently on the carpet. "All right, squirt. Go play with your toys. The adults need to talk."
His mother snorted, responding in her native language. "You're only sixteen. You're not a man yet, Nicholas."
"Not that he doesn't act like one every day," came the booming voice of his father as he popped his head around the corner to see what all the commotion was all about. Nino laughed and ran off to play near the Christmas tree, his mother eyeing him nervously as he came dangerously close to the presents.
His mother said something to his father in Arabic and Nicholas sighed, stretching and dropping his book bag by the door to go sprawl out on the couch for no reason whatsoever. It was peaceful like this, to hear his parents squabble teasingly while he watched his brother play. This felt like home. It was a kind of serenity that he didn't feel when he was at school surrounded by all of the students that he couldn't understand half of the time. It had been almost four years since his parents had uprooted themselves from their small Moroccan life to bring him and Nino to France for a chance at a better life and he appreciated it, really, but there were times he just missed the stillness of the small villages. The bustling city just wasn't the same.
Of course, Nino was having no trouble fitting in. His French was incredible. Then again, he was only six and he hadn't really been speaking much Arabic before they left. The same couldn't be said for his parents, who barely knew a lick of French (ironic, out of all of the countries they could have selected to move to). Nicholas had translated many a parent-teacher conference with moderate success.
"No feet on the table!" Ali called again, his voice a little softer now as he and his wife, Layla, turned and started back into the kitchen now that the excitement was over.
Nicholas sighed and did as he was told, exaggerating the motion to take as long as he possibly could.
"And pick your bag up! Our living room isn't for you to make a pigsty out of!"
"Yes, sir," Nicholas called, sticking his tongue out at Nino who giggled behind his toy dump truck.
"Dinner will be ready in a few minutes," Layla broke in, poking her head once more around the door. "Why don't you take your things upstairs and then help Nino get washed up?"
"Sure," Nicholas replied, heaving himself off of the couch and scooping Nino up amid the child's squeak of surprise. "Come on, akhi, let's go get ready for dinner." And just for the record, he flipped him upside down again. Nino laughed, hair standing straight on end, and reached for his toys under him.
"Nicholas!"
"Sorry, mother."
"'gain! Again!" Nino pleaded as Nicholas slid him over his shoulders and carried him piggy-back to the stairs.
"Maybe later, N," he sighed. "Don't want all that blood to rush out your eyeballs, do you?"
"Ew!" his brother agreed loudly, earning another chuckle from the older sibling.
"That's what I figured. Come on. Let's go get ready." Herding his giggling brother up the stairs and shaking his head in amusement, Nicholas followed.
Dinnertime with his family was always special for Nicholas, mostly because it was his chance to practice both his French and Arabic at once, switching back and forth for the sake of his parents and his brother. Not to mention his mother's cooking was to die for (as he believed the American saying went), even if his father had been trying to help out more (and by 'help out', he actually meant, 'managed to burn practically everything except the potatoes').
However, amid all of the jumbled languages and raised sentiments, there was one part of family mealtime that Nicholas did not appreciate-and the burning question that almost always accompanied it...
"So, how was school today? Did you make any friends?"
It hurt, each time that question was posed. And he knew his parents weren't doing it to be mean or spiteful. They genuinely cared. And that just made it all the worse for him to have to repeat the same answer night after night.
"School was fine," he answered quietly through a mouthful of spaghetti. "We had a field trip to the museum today. Saw some stuff. And no, I haven't made any friends yet." Though I did run this one boy over with my skateboard and he didn't absolutely despise me afterward, so there's always that going for me.
Disappointment flashed through their eyes but both of his parents managed to hide it well as they glanced over at their younger son to pose the same question.
"Is okay," Nino replied, shrugging heavily as he played with a noodle. "Counting. Letters. No noodles. There was new girl in class."
"Oh, a girl?" Ali teased, grinning like was Bastille Day. "Was she cute? What was her name?"
"Cute," Nino mumbled, trying to hide his face even as his mother and brother deadpanned. "M-mari-her name's Marinette. She...she talks funny. Like...like Nicholas but...but not the same. Different. First day. Smelled like bread."
Nichols slapped a hand over his heart, pretending to be offended by that comment. "Well, the moment you're old enough to marry this girl, I'd better be your best man, got it?"
Nino nodded quickly, eyes wide. Nicholas was sure he didn't understand what he was saying, but it was still hilarious to see him squirm as if he did.
"Nicholas, stop teasing your brother and eat your food before it gets cold!" Layla commanded. "You too!" she added, smacking her husband in the shoulder as he continued laughing. "Don't encourage him!"
"Too late!" Ali bellowed.
"Way too late," Nicholas added, eyeing his plate to avoid his mother's gaze. "He's encouraged. There's no hope for him now."
"He's also talking in the third person," Layla pointed out.
Nicholas grinned at her cheekily. "Yes, it appears he is."
"Nikolas, eat your dinner."
"Yes, ma'am."
Ignoring his father's continuing laugher, Nicholas smirked as he went back to scooping pointlessly at his noodles, knowing, sooner or later, the conversation would circle back around to him and his lack of ability to fit in. He was just grateful for any moment of peace he could earn.
To his relief, the table-talk slowly drifted away from the boys and moved on to discussing how Ali's day at work had been (he worked at a small canning factory as one of the head managers) and the excitement of his upcoming trip to Mexico to discuss a new deal-and possibly a new factory near the Panama Canal. "It would be a great opportunity!" he'd explained loudly, repeating what he had stated at dinner a few nights previously. "We've always wanted a station in the Americas and this is our chance! I'll fly out in a week and make all the arrangements!"
At this, Nino, who had up until this point been relatively distant from the conversation, jerked his head up, eyes wide in alarm. "No!" he cried. "Don't leave! Don't want you to leave!" The tears were already trickling down his cheeks before anyone could move to comfort him.
Being the closest, Nicholas sprang to intercept, scooping his brother into his arms and holding him close, nearly upsetting the bowl of spaghetti in the process. "Shhh," he mumbled, bouncing him on his knees. "It's okay, Akhi. Dad will be back. It's just for a little while, all right?"
"No!" Nino wailed, burying his face into Nicholas's shirt. The older brother sighed but did not move to try and save his clothing from the soaking of tears. "If Daddy goes, never see again!"
Nicholas had no idea what had riled his little brother up so badly, but he was determined to set it right. "It's okay, Nino," he whispered in French. "It's okay, see? Dad isn't going anywhere. He's right here. Look." He shifted, leaving room for Nino to peer over at his father who had finally paused his eating at the sudden explosion of emotion. Nino sniffed, blinking tearfully and clinging to Nicholas fearfully.
"No, no, Nickie, no," the boy went on, repeating himself quicker and more urgently with each recitation. "Don't go. Don't let go. Not safe. No...no...please."
"It would only be for a couple of days," Ali went on to Layla, more cautious now that he saw how upset Nino was. "I just have to go sign some papers and show my face. I'll only be gone for...three days tops."
But Nino wasn't having any of it. Wailing, he shoved his face once more into Nicholas's shoulder. The older brother sighed, standing up slowly. "I'll take him upstairs and let him calm down," he told his parents, turning and hurrying out of the room before they could say anything.
They continued their conversation once they thought their children were out of earshot and Nicholas managed to catch the tail-end of their conversation.
"I'm worried about them," Layla spoke softly. "The both of them. Nicholas isn't making friends at school. I have received calls from his teachers about him acting out in class. I know he's just lonely, but he isn't going to make friends this way. And Nino jumps at his own shadow. He sees things that aren't there and his imagination is so vivid. It's not natural for a six-year-old to know what he does."
"The transition was hard on them," Ali tried to reassure her. "Change takes time. We adjusted. They will as well."
"Four years," Layla mumbled. "It's been four years. I'm sorry, but...I just...seeing the both of them so miserable...I can't help but wonder...did we make a terrible mistake coming here?"
Ali said something else but Nicholas didn't want to hear anymore. Holding Nino close, he rushed upstairs and hastily slammed the door to their room. Nino still holding tight, Nicholas took a moment to breathe slowly, his hands clenching as he gazed around at the heavily-bannered walls, littered with Nino's preschool drawings. One, Nicholas noticed, was of himself, Nino, and their soon-to-be little sibling. Nino was hoping for a sister. Nicholas's money was on another boy. He already knew the names picked out. For a girl; Elizabeth (a good French name, right?). For a boy; Christopher (his father's choice. His mother did not think it was authentic enough. Too English, she said. Clearly, she hadn't been paying attention to the homework she'd been trying to help him with).
It was going to be a boy. He could feel it. Three boys all told. Just to spite his mother.
"Here we are, Akhi," he chuckled, sitting down on the edge of Nino's bed and trying to coax him out of his arms. "It's okay to look up now. I'm here with you."
Choking slightly, Nino dared another glance up. His eyes met Nicholas's and he let out a tiny whimper. "Ni...Nick?"
"There you go," Nicholas smiled, forcing the eavesdropped conversation from his mind. "See? Everything is all right. Ab is here. He's not leaving." Not right away anyway. "Now, come on, let's get you all ready for bed. Sounds like you've had a long day."
Nino, still a little red and tear-streaked, nodded weakly and slid off his brother's lap, hurrying off to grab something out of Nicholas's line of sight. The older brother let out his breath, thinking about his dinner, half-eaten and getting colder by the minute.
"Plane not safe," Nino mumbled. "Crash. Bad. Daddy can't go on plane."
Nicholas frowned, ducking under a flying shoe. "What are you talking about, Nino?"
"Plane! Crash!" Nino gestured wildly, frustrated to be unable to get his point across. "BOOM!"
"The plane's not going to crash, little brother," Nicholas sighed, catching the other shoe mid-throw. "It is very safe. I promise."
Nino uttered a noise that Nicholas couldn't quite understand, but didn't argue any further, moving off to pick out his favorite pair of dinosaur pajamas. Nicholas stood slowly, following his eager energy wave of a sibling toward the door. "Okay, rugrat. No more tears. Let's get you all situated here." Meeting his little brother's hopeful gaze, he melted instantly. Curse you, Nino. You and your pure innocence. He supposed his dinner could wait a little longer. He could always heat it up if he was really hungry.
Dutifully, Nino marched out of the room, and with a small smile, Nicholas followed close behind.
After helping his brother get ready for bed, Nicholas turned to collapse on his own, tossing his headphones and hat onto the bedside table and letting out a long sigh of relief as he flopped onto the mattress. It was late (Nino had insisted on every bath toy in existence, none of which were where they were supposed to be) and his parents had long gone to sleep themselves. Across the room, he could hear Nino's light breaths as he too drifted off, leaving Nicholas lying awake by himself, replaying the events of the day through his mind like a movie, unfinished and distant.
And his parent's conversation.
Did they really feel like he wasn't putting in enough of an effort? Did they really think going back to Morocco would solve everything? Part of him wanted to scream. "Yes! Take me back! Back to my friends! Nobody likes me! I can't stand it here!" but the more sensible side knew what a terrible and unfair thought that was. And what about Nino? his mind challenged. He's just beginning to fit in! It would be wrong to take him away from that now! He has friends-or at least, a friend.
What he wouldn't do for the same kind of luck Nino had.
Well, at least that settled it. He couldn't risk ruining what future Nino had in this city. And that was exactly what was going to happen if he got them all shipped back to Africa because he was misbehaving.
From now on, I'll be a model citizen. I won't do anything wrong and I'll try and make friends. That will show our parents that I want to be here and that will convince them that we have to stay! For Nino's sake!
And I'll start by finding that boy and keeping my word.
