Skeeter reappeared with the two steaming mugs. Riley mumbled his thanks, but Khadi grabbed the man’s hairy wrist, looked him in the eye, and said, “Thank you, Skeeter.”
Skeeter looked quickly at Riley, then back to Khadi. “Yes, ma’am,” he said and returned to his table.
Riley sighed deeply-a little too deeply for his still-struggling lungs-and sent himself into a coughing fit. The coughing wasn’t as bad as it had been, but it was strong enough to make the occupants of two or three tables turn around. He tried to stifle the fit with a long draw on his mug, with moderate success.
“Khadi, can I ask you a personal question?”
She responded with a noncommittal nod of her head and a shrug of her shoulders.
“Okay, and please understand where I’m coming from on this. What… how do you feel when you hear Muslims defending what was done at Platte River?”
Khadi remained silent.
“I’m sorry,” Riley jumped in. “I should have learned my lesson last time.”
“No, no, no,” Khadi reassured him. “I’m trying to think of a good answer. Truthfully, I’ve never really analyzed it before. I think my initial response is anger. But then that turns into a profound sadness. These people are taking my religion and giving it a black eye around the world. My people and my beliefs are despised and rejected based on the actions of a minority of fools and zealots. I mean, think about how you feel when you hear of some radical Christian guy blowing up an abortion clinic or a bunch of wackos picketing the funeral of a guy who died of AIDS with signs that say ‘God hates gays.’ No matter what your feelings are about abortion or homosexuality, you still find yourself thinking, I really wish they weren’t playing on my team. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, but… again, don’t take this the wrong way-I can point out specific places in the Bible that would blow those idiot radicals out of the water. Seriously, it would be like shooting fish in a barrel. But doesn’t the Koran actually support what these terrorists are doing?”
“According to the Islamists, it does. But I would also bet that your ‘idiot radicals’ would claim that they could back their positions with the Bible, too.”
They both picked a piece off the muffin, Riley feeling the uncomfortable squish of soft blueberry compacting itself under his fingernail. Khadi looked like she was trying to formulate a thought, so he quietly chewed.
“However,” she finally said, “if we’re totally being honest here… I will admit that there are some passages in the Koran that I don’t fully understand. Don’t get me wrong,” she quickly added, “it doesn’t make me cast doubts on my beliefs, only on my own comprehension. At least that’s what I tell myself when I’m lying awake at night.”
“Okay, that’s an interesting qualifier.”
“Yeah, I guess it is. Riley, I love my faith. I love my traditions. My family has been Muslim for generations-I love having that history. I just wish… I don’t know. I guess I wish I knew where I stood with Allah. I often have this fear of standing at the great judgment and being one good deed out of balance. You know what I mean? One ‘walking the old lady across the street’ or one ‘giving a homeless person a dollar’ short of tipping the scales in my favor and making it to heaven.”
Riley chuckled lightly. “Believe me, I know exactly what you mean. That’s why I don’t count on anything I do. If it was up to the way I live my life to get me into heaven, I wouldn’t stand a chance. I know the junk that’s in me. I live with my stupidity every day. That’s why instead of depending on what I do, I depend on what Jesus Christ has done. Because He died for me, I know I don’t need to worry anymore about being good enough.”
“It must be nice to really believe that. I wish I could… but once a Muslim, always a Muslim. Islam isn’t only what I believe; it’s who I am… You know, if it’s all right with you, Riley, I’m done with this conversation for now.”
“Fair enough. And thanks-for being honest and all.”
Suddenly a hand reached in again to take Riley’s mug. Riley seized the arm and, without looking up, said, “Skeeter, if you touch my coffee again I will see to it that you are immediately transferred to Secretary Moss’s personal security detail!”
The standoff lasted about ten seconds before Skeeter finally pulled his arm away and moved back to his seat. Riley called after him, “And while we’re on the subject, I’ve finally figured out how to go to the bathroom all by myself too-thank you very much!”
Unfortunately, Riley’s outburst came during a lull in the break room’s conversation. On the positive side, the ensuing round of applause was the largest he had received since the PFL.
“Citizens of America, the last time I spoke to you was following the incident carried out by Allah’s righteous servants in Denver, Colorado. At that time, although I introduced myself to you, I kept my face hidden. That was because my work was not yet done. Today, however, I show you who I truly am, because by the time you are watching this, I will have already gone to join my fellow martyrs.
“My name is Hakeem Qasim. Some of you may be saying, ‘But isn’t that Sal Ricci, the football player?’ I’m sorry to tell you that you are mistaken. There never was a Sal Ricci-only Hakeem. Sal Ricci was a part I played-a part that you, in your all-encompassing desire to be entertained, were all too eager to accept as truth.
“Why did I do it, you ask through your shock and tears? Because your government is in the habit of stealing land. Your presidents steal waqf land-land that belongs to Allah. Don’t you know that once something belongs to Allah it always belongs to Allah? You fly in with your jets, and you roll in with your tanks, and you think that you possess the land. And once you have it, you hold on to it tightly-at least until the price becomes too high. Then you hike up your skirts and run home. You are pitiful!
“Why did I do it? I did it because your presidents like to murder innocent people. They send in their missiles and leave parents without their children and children without their parents! So, you stole one family-my family-and I have stolen thousands of yours! Now, think of all the other children whose parents you have taken, and do the math! I am not alone!
“Now the truth is known-the Cheetah is out of the bag, you might say. Today I stand before you as living proof of what I said in my previous message. Nowhere are you safe. Trust no one. Remember, I was in your homes every Sunday. Even now, my image is on the walls of your children’s bedrooms. My number is on the back of the jersey you are wearing. My signature is on your prize football, in your autograph book, on your favorite hat. You invited a predator into your homes-and now you’ve been bitten!
“So as you lay your heads down on your soft pillows tonight, remember that I am only one man… and there are thousands more like me. My short chapter may be done, but the book is far from being written.”
Hakeem continued staring at the camera until the red light blinked off. The others in the room came forward to congratulate him on his message, but he waved them off and retreated to his bedroom.
He sat on the edge of his bed and held the brass coin that hung around his neck. Where he had expected to feel elation, he felt sorrow. Where he had expected to feel victory, he felt emptiness. And where he had expected to feel pride, he felt shame.
What will she think? What will little Aly think when she’s old enough to see this? Is this truly the price of honor? Is this truly what a benevolent and merciful God would require of me in order to restore my family’s name?
He continued rubbing the coin, but the smell of the metal soon became a stench in his nose. Yanking the chain from his neck, he threw the necklace against the wall.