Worthy

(Day 149: Monday Morning)

Ben takes a bite of the scrambled eggs and ham, before he looks between Aziz and the Quran, "I thought Ramadin was done."

"Ramadan," he corrects, "was officially over as of sunrise."

"But you're still skipping meals to read that," Ben comments in confusion.

Aziz takes a deep breath, "One of the pillars is faith. It's highly encouraged to read the entire book before the end of Ramadan." before he shakes his head. "I could have just gone to mosque and listened to it being read, but no. I thought spending ten hours on a train every weekend would be too time-consuming."

"They go through it on the weekend?"

"Every night during Ramadan," he answers. "But I could have caught up on the train."

It takes a minute for Ben to say, "That still doesn't answer why you're still doing this."

He faces Ben with wide eyes, "I didn't even acknowledge the charity pillar this month. I can't just not read this too."

"So…" Ben offers a discontent expression, "What then?"

"I'm going to finish it."

Ben watches him turn back to the book, "What about breakfast? Lunch?"

"I'll eat when I'm dead," Aziz stresses, and when Ben starts to speak again he turns to him. "Please," he emphasizes, "just let me do this right now. I need to get it done."

Ben frowns, "Does Coach know about this?"

"What?" Aziz counters. "You didn't see me stuck on the bench half the month?" Ben doesn't speak, and he sighs, "Of course Jenkins knows."

"I am sorry," Jay tries to apologize. "I shouldn't've let you lie."

Carlos sighs, "Do we need to do this right now?" as he stares out at the field.

"You can't stay in the girls' dorm forever."

"The school year's almost done, dumbass," he mumbles.

Jay shakes his head, "You can't hate me forever."

Carlos swiftly turns towards him and shouts, "I don't hate you." and after he realizes what he had done he glances around at the stares.

It takes a moment for Jay to whisper, "I know." and Carlos meets his eyes again. "You're not mad. You're upset."

He scoffs, "Understatement of the year." before he looks back out at the practice game.

"What can I do?"

Carlos takes a shaky breath, "Say it meant something." He meets his dark brown eyes and stresses, "Tell me I was more than just some tissue you could use."

He nods, "You were more than just a tissue to use."

Carlos narrows his eyes, "You suck at apologies."

"Look," Jay sighs. "I said I'm sorry." Carlos doesn't respond, and he takes a breath, "I didn't mean… I didn't mean to hurt you like that."

Carlos mumbles, "Maybe you shouldn't have hurt me at all."

"I never wanted to," he quietly points out.

Carlos gulps as he feels his eyes warm, before he faces him, "You were my first everything. Everything." before he shakes his head. "You know how much that hurts? How much I trusted you, let you in, and take hold of me, and… now you don't."

It takes a minute for Jay to counter, "You're only fourteen. You'll get over it."

"Fifteen." He seethes, "I'm fifteen." before he notices his expression change. "Or did you forget that you fucking trousseur de jupons, branleur?"

Jay doesn't react, "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Carlos rolls his eyes as he shakes his head, "Where do you think I got that mouth from?"

"No. Seriously," he frowns. "What did you say?"

Carlos half smiles, "Wouldn't you like to know."

Jay lets out a breath, "It wasn't just my fault. We both did this wrong." but Carlos keeps his attention on the players. "We should just move on."

"Shut up."

"I mean it," he asserts. "We were friends once. I messed that up when I started things. I get that."

"No. Shut up," Carlos urgently comments as he straightens up. "Look at Aziz."

Jay notices his staggering run, "That's not strategy."

Carlos's eyes shift down, before he realizes, "He's dehydrated." He stands up and steps towards the coach, but before he can even get close he hears the voices concern when Aziz falls to the ground. Carlos can't help but stare, just waiting for him to stand, as the coach shouts to ask how he is; however, when Jenkins begins to run over to him Carlos does the same. He kneels down and shakes him, "Aziz." and when his eyes open Carlos holds the water bottle over him. "Here." Aziz shakes his head, and he irritably responds, "Don't be an idiot. Drink it."

"I'm fine," Aziz whispers as he leans up on his arms, but the next moment Carlos notices his eyes roll backward before his arms give way and he falls back onto the grass.

When Aziz hears his father's voice he opens his eyes, turning his head and seeing him at the door, "Dad?"

His dad walks over and takes a seat, and when Aziz goes to scratch the itch on his arm he notices an IV running up to a bag. "We live in a desert," he quietly states, and Aziz turns back to him, mouth slightly gaped and ready for explanation. "You know the symptoms of dehydration."

"I," Aziz begins, but his mouth shuts and he looks down.

"They also found low glucose levels," his father frowns, and he waits for him to face him. "You've been trying to break your record again."

"It's not like that," he tries to reassure.

His dad nods, "Please. Explain."

It takes a minute for Aziz to collect his thoughts, "I failed Ramadan." and he notices his father shift in his seat. "I still need to read the Quran. I wanted to continue the fast until I finished it, but I was going to stop after that. I promise." His father merely nods. "I didn't find time to do the charity. I needed to at least do this."

His father meets his eyes, "Ramadan is over when it's over. This isn't some school project you can just make up."

"I know," he looks down. "I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, "Why do you do this to yourself?"

Aziz looks back up, "Do what?"

"This," his dad slightly shakes his head. "You keep doing this. It's the same behavior all year 'round." Aziz opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. "This competition you have with yourself to see how long you can go without food, this enormous restraint from romantic adventure, and just… everything you do. You're not a monk. You need food. You need water. You need human connection."

Aziz whispers, "I know."

"So why?" his dad asks again. "Why do this to yourself?"

He takes a breath, "I told you. I had to finish reading the Quran. If I didn't do my best for Ramadan, then my fast wouldn't be accepted as sacrifice."

"And we just went over this," his father counters. "This isn't a singular occurrence. You've been here before." He enunciates, "Right here, before."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," his father seriously answers. "Just help me understand."

It takes a moment for Aziz to slowly admit, "I'm not… pure." and he hesitates to continue. "I get bad thoughts."

"Everyone gets bad thoughts," his dad reasons. "All we can do is practice self-restraint and not act on them."

"So, you're saying that even fasting couldn't purify my soul?" Aziz disbelieves.

His dad pauses, "Your mom will disagree with me, but I wouldn't take that fact so literally." He thinks, "You see… When people are less focused on their own needs, they're more able to pay attention to other beings— to God's grace. That's all it is. Fasting opens you up to the world around you, things you might not have noticed or thought of otherwise." Aziz doesn't speak, and he takes a moment, "I don't want you fasting anymore."

"What?" Aziz exasperates.

"You're not using fasting as a tool to get closer to God or humbleness," he explains. "You get lost in it. When you fast, you're focused on the fast. For you it's not about limiting your indulgences. It's a self-serving act that will lead to your destruction. God wouldn't want that for you."

"Fasting is obligatory for Ramadan," he reminds him.

"And there's a safe and proper way to do it." Aziz silences, and his father faces him, "If you fast at all before next year without my permission or a good reason, then I am going to recommend to your mother that we don't let you engage in the fast for Ramadan."

"Only people with illness are excused from fast," Aziz defends.

His father calmly responds, "Prove to me that you're not, and you can. Properly."

"I don't have an eating disorder," Aziz huffs. "I just—" He feels the tears intrude his eyes, "I just want to be good. I want to be worthy."

"You are worthy," he reassures.

Aziz laughs, "You don't know anything about me."

"Yes. I do," his dad says. "I've been where you are."

"No," he doubts. "You haven't."

His father sighs, "Did you pray this month?"

Aziz attempts to settle down, "Yes."

"All of the prayers?" he makes sure.

"Yes," Aziz whispers again.

His dad nods, "Practice charity and reading the Quran every month. Continue to pray regularly, and you will be worthy of God. And next year…" He meets his eyes, "You will learn, and you will do better." Aziz doesn't speak, merely looking down. His father attempts to smile, "Now." and Aziz looks at him. "How about we trade that IV for a bottle of water and go out to dinner? And desert, anything you want."

Aziz continues to frown, "No."

His father's expression falters, "Why?"

"I don't deserve it," he softly answers. "I can't."

"Yes, you can," his dad asserts. "And you do. You do deserve it." Aziz faces him. "Every human deserves to eat."

"I'm a sinner," he lets his father know.

"We're all sinners," his dad informs. "Just pray for forgiveness, learn, and do better."