On a cold Fresno night, Deek’s search for purpose draws him to the river’s dark pull—and to the brink of his own redemption.

Previous Chapters: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13| Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27

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“When the mother is safe, the family is safe, the community is safe, the world is safe. She is the sun from which warmth and love radiate. If she shines, her family blooms.” – Deek Saghir

Shark Alone

Deek woke up shivering, lying atop the covers in the sprawling hotel bed. The room was dark, with no light but the pale illumination of the night time city coming through the window. The window was open, and the curtains billowed as a cold breeze gusted in.

He checked his watch: it was only an hour past sunset. Alhamdulillah, he could still catch Maghreb. He closed the window, made wudu’, pulled on a pair of jeans and a brown leather jacket, and prayed.

After salat he sat cross-legged on the musalla, not knowing what to do. He had nowhere to go, no place to be, nothing to do, no one to be. It was said that a shark must keep swimming, or he would die. But why would he die? Could a shark drown in the sea? Or did he die of loneliness, weary of decades criss-crossing the oceans alone, killing to survive, wearing the scars of battle upon his scaly hide?

It was a mistake to think that sharks were evil. Allah created all things with a purpose. The shark had a purpose, and so too did Deek have a purpose, though he no longer knew what it was. He had no family to look after. He had no fortune to yearn for, since he’d achieved that and didn’t know what to do with it. He had no cryptos to manage, for he was out of that market.

He tapped the marble floor with a fingernail, then drummed on it with both hands, making a slapping sound against the hard surface.

He didn’t want to return to that local gym. They treated him like a long-lost relative who needed their support and kindness. It was embarrassing.

He was an Arab who’d grown up along the banks of a river, so in a way he was a creature of both sand and water, and found comfort in both. There was no sand around here, but there was water.

Foundation

A half hour later he stood upon the foundation of his unfinished, derelict house, the concrete cold beneath his boots. The wind came in long, sighing gusts from the west, fluttering the loose plastic sheeting that clung to rebar like ghosts. Somewhere nearby, an owl called once—long and low, like a warning or a question.

It was a bitter night. Fresno cold, dry and sharp. He zipped up his coat and stuffed his hands in his pockets, but the wind still found him. It crept down his collar and hissed through the empty house, whispering through joists and overhangs, promising nothing, taking nothing, leaving only the sound of moving air.

Below, the San Joaquin River was a ribbon of blackness, moonlight sliding across its surface like oil. From this height, he couldn’t see the banks clearly, only hints of motion—ripples, eddies, things unseen—and that same deep magnetic pull that rivers always had for him. A kind of whisper in the blood.

Rivers had frightened him since childhood. Not the crashing kind like the ones you saw in movies, but the slow, heavy ones. The ones that moved with their own patient will. They reminded him of people who never said much, who never showed emotion, who just kept going until one day they swallowed you whole.

Yet he couldn’t look away.

Somewhere, Rania might be praying. Or maybe reading in bed, a cold compress on her aching back. Sanaya and Amira might be curled together on the sofa, watching a movie they’d seen five times already. Lubna, probably up late studying teacher resumes, a mug of tea gone cold on her desk. Marco—who knew? Walking somewhere, talking to himself, fighting off the shadows only he could see.

And Deek was here. On a concrete slab in the dark.

Everything he’d done had been for his family. This new house wasn’t supposed to be his home, it was supposed to be the family home. A legacy they could grow into. A multi-generational property, a home to the Saghir family for a hundred years to come or more, though Deek was not accustomed to thinking in such terms.

He took his phone out and called Sanaya. He had no expectation that she would answer, yet she did, dully.

“Dad?”

“I bought a new house for the family. For all of us.”

“I don’t think Mom will want that.”

“Will you come see it?”

“What, now?”

“Uh-huh.”

There was a long pause. Finally Sanaya said, “Text me the address.”

Spooky

Driving up a winding road into the low hills north of Fresno, Sanaya checked the GPS repeatedly. It was dark outside, but the full moon provided a pale illumination that outlined the surrounding hills and mesas.

Amara chewed on a fingernail. “He bought a house out here? Where even are we?”

“Above the river somewhere. Fresno County. Remember, don’t say anything about Mom. She doesn’t want us to.” Mom had not been to work in three days. Her back still hurt, and she’d fallen into deep depression, barely rousing herself to eat. Sanaya had confiscated her pain pills, and now Mom wouldn’t talk to her.

“Whatever.” Amara spit a fingernail fragment onto the car floor.

“Don’t do that, it’s gross.”

“Ask if I care.”

Sanaya sighed. Amira had been constantly sullen and withdrawn lately. She was very attached to Dad, and had taken his absence hard. Sanaya didn’t know what was going to happen, how things would work out, but she herself felt weary. Her life had flipped. Those who were supposed to care for her had turned their faces away, and now she found herself caring for them. She’d become her depressed mother’s caretaker and her moody sister’s parent. Between that, work and school, she was exhausted.

Her nostrils flared with anger as she thought about it. But it didn’t matter. Bring it on. She could handle it, along with whatever other test this dunya gave her. Amara might be closer to Dad, but she was a lot more like Mom than she would ever admit.

Sanaya, on the other hand, knew in her heart that she’d been created from Dad’s mold. She carried his strength and determination, for he was a man who set his vision on a goal and never gave up, no matter what.

* * *

Deek watched as Rania’s brown mini-SUV came up the road, crunched along the gravel driveway, came to a stop, and disgorged Sanaya and Amira. He grinned with pleasure. He hadn’t been sure Sanaya would come, nor that Amira would come too.

The two of them approached to about ten feet and stopped, looking around, surveying the property. Sanaya wore only slacks, a light sweater and a hijab, and stood shivering in the frigid wind. Amira stood with her arms tightly crossed, biting a fingernail.

Deek walked to his daughters, took off his jacket and put it around Sanaya’s shoulders. Then he spread his arms out wide. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful up here,” Sanaya said, slipping her arms into the jacket sleeves. “But that’s not a house.”

Deek laughed. “Not yet. A year from now, inshaAllah, it will be a six bedroom, three bath house with a pool, hot tub, tennis court, you name it. Give me your wish list and we’ll build it. And we have fifty acres of land up here. Fifty acres! We could have horses.”

“It’s too far from school and work. I couldn’t live up here.”

“Come on Sanaya, don’t be like that. Give it a chance.” He looked to his younger daughter, who had not yet spoken a word. In the past she would have come to him and hugged him, and spoken up in defense of his choices.

Amara spat out a bit of fingernail. “It’s spooky. And I think you’re living in a dream world.” She turned and walked back to the car, kicking a rock out of her way.

Deek’s heart sank into his stomach. “Why did you come then, if all you want to do is put down what I’m doing?”

A Beautiful Thing

Sanaya gazed at him levelly. “Because Maryam Rana called me. She told me what you did. She’s been accepted into a treatment program at the Mayo Clinic. You did a beautiful thing, Baba. You saved her life.”

A rush of emotion threatened to flood Deek’s eyes with tears. Sanaya had not called him Baba in many years. At some point she’d switched over to the less personal “Dad,” and he had let it go, because you had to let young people be who they were.

“Alhamdulillah,” he murmured. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“It means a lot to me. She told me that you paid off hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of medical bills. And the fact that no one in the community knows, that you didn’t make a thing out of it. It says a lot about you.”

Deek shrugged, embarrassed. “She talked about you. Called you whip-smart. She’s a sweet girl. I would do the same for you, your sister or your mother. I would do anything in my power to help you.”

“Are you sure about that? They say that charity starts at home, but sadaqah is not just money, you know. You told me something, once. You said that if anything ever happened to you, that I should take care of Mom, because she’s the sun from which warmth and love radiate. When she shines, our family blooms. And you said that mothers are the world’s heart, that when they are safe, the family is safe, the community is safe, the nation is safe, and the world is safe.”

“I said that?”

“Yes. Now I’m going home. It’s freezing up here. Aren’t you going back to the hotel?”

“In a while. I want to explore a little.”

Sanaya shook her head. “You’re crazy, Baba. And I’m keeping the jacket.” She turned and walked away.

Dark River

When the sound of the car had faded, Deek walked around until he found the path that led down to the river. Without making any conscious decision, he began walking downhill to the river. Unlike that last river visit, this time it would be dark. This thought slowed his feet, but he felt the river’s deep, beautiful waters calling to him. The river was pure and clean, and yes, ruthless as well. It was beneficent, yet would snatch the life away from any fool who approached it with less than utmost caution.

He had no plan or goal beyond a vague notion that the river could cure his angry emptiness.

The surface of the water was a black mirror that displayed a rippled reflection of the moon above. At the river bank, he rolled up his pant legs and climbed carefully down to the water’s edge. He put his wallet and keys beside a large rock, but kept his phone, putting it on flashlight mode. Still wearing his shoes, he waded into the frigid, black water.

The phone’s light seemed to shy away from the extreme darkness of the water, and served only to remind Deek of how untamed and merciless this river could be. The current was fast; rocks shifted beneath his feet; eddies rippled and splashed. Reeds danced in the night breeze.

He stayed in the shallows, the water just at his lower shins, yet even here the water cut into his legs with a ferocity that made him hiss through his teeth. It was Sierra Nevada snowmelt, as icy sharp as knives.

Rather than tranquility or clarity, Deek found himself filled with rage. Everything he’d done and accomplished had turned out to be useless. Well, if no one needed him, then he didn’t need them either.

A small boulder, about the size of a toaster, stuck up out of the water. Deek bent, wrestled it out of the mud, cocked an arm, and with a shout, heaved it out toward the center of the river, where it landed with an unseen splash.

He found another, bigger rock. This one came up easily, but was heavy. With a grunt he brought it up to his shoulders, then, using both hands, shot-putted it into the air, screaming as loudly as he could. The wind snatched away his scream as the boulder splashed down nearby, wetting him.

Going Back

Driving downhill a short distance away, Sanaya pulled the car to the side of the road and stopped.

“Did you hear something?”

“I thought the river looked awesome in the moonlight,” Amira remarked. “And it would be totes cool to have horses. But I didn’t want to tell him that. Why are we stopping?”

Sanaya craned her neck, peering into the darkness behind them. “I’m not sure it was a good idea to leave him alone.”

“Baba can take care of himself. He’s strong.”

“We should go back.”

Amira rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

Sanaya gunned the engine and cut the wheel, whipping the car in a 180 and causing the back wheels to fishtail. She hit the accelerator and the car leaped forward.

“What are you doing?” Amira gasped.

“Something’s wrong.” She sped up the mountain road, hugging the curves. This was not like her. Mom and Amira were the ones with second sense, not her. Yet she pushed the pedal and went faster, barely staying on the road.

Man Against Nature

Deek took another step deeper into the river, then another, until he was in up to his knees. His feet had gone numb from the cold. He spread his arms for balance and closed his eyes.

This was dangerous, he knew. The river was deep in the middle, and the bottom could drop out at any point. People drowned in the San Joaquin and Kings rivers all the time. If he slipped and fell, no one would know until his body turned up somewhere downriver.

He stood for a few minutes, braced against the flow, letting the icy water wash him clean.

“La ilaha il-Allah,” he breathed. “Muhammadur-Rasulullah.”

For reasons he could not articulate, he stepped in further, closer to the deep center. The water was up to his waist now. It was a stupid thing to do, but also thrilling. If he could defy this mighty river, or perhaps harmonize with it, he could do anything. It was a real thing, a real accomplishment that he could take pride in. Man against nature, wasn’t that the oldest and most primal struggle of all.

Or was the original struggle man against Shaytan? Confusion swirled through his mind. He lifted a foot to return to the shore, but a strong current lifted him and he lost his balance. The excitement vanished as panic flooded his mind. He waved his arms and took two quick steps, recovering his balance. The phone was gone.

Desperate, he lunged toward the shallows and slipped, falling completely into the water. He felt himself being pulled along the bottom. His head began to ring from the shock of the freezing current. He hardly knew up from down. Reaching blindly with his hands, he grasped a clump of reeds growing in the shallows. He seized them and used them to hold his position as his knees found the river bottom and his head broke the surface. He gasped desperately, sucking in air.

He was on hands and knees and the water was up to his neck. The current tugged at him hard, trying to drag him under again. It was a living thing that had tasted him and savored his fear, and would not release him until it consumed him. Deek was overwhelmed with terror, not of death but of the river itself. His mind froze, and he remained stuck in place, holding onto the clump of weeds like a lifeline. He didn’t have the energy to rise to his feet. The cold was in his bones now. He yearned for sun and warmth.

He remembered what Sanaya had said: Mothers are the sun from which warmth and love radiate. He needed Rania. He understood now how foolish and stubborn he had been. It was time to put all ego, resentment and pettiness aside, and go home to his wife. He gathered his strength and tried to rise, but he was weak, and the river snatched him away, dragging him toward the center, where the water was deep, lightless and unforgiving.

In The River

Sanaya circled the hulking shell of a house, peering into every shadow, while Amira ran to check the caretaker’s house.

“He’s not there,” Amira reported when she returned. “Maybe he took an Uber back to town.”

“That makes no sense. His car is here. Plus, no one passed us on the road.”

“Maybe he -”

Sanaya cut her off. “Stop talking and just listen.” She knew that Mom had an extrasensory gift of some kind, and it had been passed to Amira, but not to her. This did not bother her. Every child inherited something different from their parents, and all was a barakah. So she watched Amira intently as the girl turned slowly in a circle, eyes closed.

Amira’s eyes opened wide, and fear filled them like dark water. “He’s in the river.”

The hair stood on the back of Sanaya’s neck. “Let’s go!” The two of them began to run down the trail to the river below.

***

Come back next week for Part 29 inshaAllah

Reader comments and constructive criticism are important to me, so please comment!

See the Story Index for Wael Abdelgawad’s other stories on this website.

Wael Abdelgawad’s novels – including Pieces of a Dream, The Repeaters and Zaid Karim Private Investigator – are available in ebook and print form on his author page at Amazon.com.

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The Deal : Part #1 The Run