Smiles Echo In My Memory

Frank’s Point of View

I remember the times we spent together
All those drives, we had a million questions
All about our lives
And when we got to New York everything felt right
I wish you were here with me,
Tonight

My eyes shut, thinking back to when Sazzy was here.
That time when we drove to New York, throwing random questions at each other out of sheer boredom.

“What school did you go to before you came to England?” she asked, smiling over at me. Her legs were tucked under her, her hair wild and curly and over one shoulder, our hands laced together at the gear stick.
“It was called Queen of Peace. It was a Catholic school…” I answered, my eyes darting from her and the road, and back again.
“How many sisters do you actually have? I’ve lost count,” I said, smiling. She smiled back, brushing her dark fringe out of her eyes.
“I have four. Shine, Shan, Zahra, and Ani. Shan ran away, though. I don’t consider her as a sister,” she mumbled the last part of her answer in a bitter tone. It seemed to upset her, so I didn’t say anything else.
“What about you? No other family or whatever?”
“No… Just me,”
I pulled up at the car-lot of a random Mall in New York, switching off the engine. I undid my seatbelt, and Sazzy grabbed at her bag on the floor. I got out, locking the car and walking around it, wrapping my arm around her waist and leading her out of the dirty car lot and into a clean white door, into the Mall.

I remember the days we spent together,
Were not enough, it used to feel like dreaming
Except we always woke up,
Never thought not having you here now
Would hurt so much

Then, that time when I was sick back in England.
I remember I was lying in bed, feeling like shit. Mom was out working, so I was alone at home.

The phone rang violently, sharply. I groaned, leaning over carefully to reach the telephone that was sitting on my bedside table
“Hello?” I croaked, my head slumping back onto my pillow.
“Frankie?”
“…Sazzy?” I asked, trying to get in a comfortable position on my bed.
“Where were you today? Are you okay?” she asked, concern clear in her voice.
“Mmm… I’m just a little sick, that’s all,”
“Oh. I missed you,” I heard her whisper. I smiled, even though she couldn’t see it, but whatever.
“I miss you too, babe,” I said in a gravely voice. God, I hate being sick.
“Will you be okay?”
“I’ll be fine, really. I’ll probably be in tomorrow,”
“But I wanna see you today,”
“You see me everyday!” I said, chuckling quietly, but immediately stopping before I threw up again.
“It’s not enough,” I heard her whine, the smile evident in her voice. I laughed quietly again.
“I’m gonna go now, babe, I’m tired,” I said, rubbing at my eyes.
“Okay. Get better quick, okay?”
“Mmm. Okay. Bye, sugar,”
“Bye baby,” we hung up, and I turned over on my side, wrapping the blanket up around me.

I remember the time you told me
About when you were eight
And all those things you said that night
That just couldn't wait

The same day we went to New York.
We were driving back, and she was happy. Well, I thought she was. We had a really good time in NY.

“Sazzy, are you okay…?”
“Fine,”
“Tell me,” I said, my eyes leaving the road to look at her. She was smiling, but it was… not a smile. Not her smile. I pulled up on the side of the highway, switching off the engine. Her eyes met mine, wet and glassed over with tears. I grabbed her hands, lacing them together with mine.
“Can we not wait till later? When we’re back at home?”
“No. Now,” I said sternly, squeezing her hands. She looked down at them, a tear dripping down and onto our hands.
“When I was eight… Shine married. It was an arranged marriage, and everyone thought that the guy was nice, respectable and all that. But about a year or so into their marriage… I was… I dunno. Just turned ten?” she started, still looking at our hands. I nodded, rubbing the back of her hand with my thumb.
“He abused her. But nobody knew. She kept it to herself. Didn’t tell anyone… But after a while, about a year after it all started, she confessed. Told Ma… It was because… He was infertile, and he took it out on her,” she whispered, tears dripping hot and fast onto our interlocked hands, warming our cold hands.
I suppose I got angry. I was kind of more… annoyed, I guess. Shine was a really nice person, and I would’ve never guessed that stuff like that happened to her.
“Because of that… We found out a lot more about him that we didn’t know. Back in Pakistan... he used to be… He was a rapist.”
My eyes widened, my mouth hanging open. A rapist?!Sazzy’s brother-in-law was a fucking rapist!
“What!?”
She nodded in conformation, looking up and into my eyes. I softened at her sight, reaching up and wiping away the tears that had cascaded down her face.
“Did he do anything to you…?” I asked, but dreading the answer. Her eyes tore away from mine, fixating back onto our hands.
“He… Not like that…”
“…Like what?”
“He tried to…”
“Tried to what?!” her voice was distant and quiet, insecure and unconfident. It angered me that I didn’t know about all of this before. But I kind of understood why she didn’t tell me, too.
“He tried to take advantage of me. But he didn’t. I got away. I was too fast for him,” she mumbled, looking back up again. I ripped our hands apart, leaping over to the passenger seat, wrapping my arms securely around her.
“I’m so sorry, Sazzy…” I muttered into her hair, my own eyes welling up with tears. She sniffed, her hot salty tears dripping onto my neck.
“Why is that on your mind now?” I asked, rubbing her back.
“I-I was thinking about that t-time you told m-me about K-Kevin,” she stuttered, clutching onto my t-shirt. I kissed her temple, tightening my grip on her.

I remember the car you were last seen in
And the games we would play
All the times we spilled our coffees
And stayed out way too late

Her smiles flashed in my mind, in my memory.
The time when we spilled our Starbucks on each other, just messing around. I’d called her an Eskimo because her hair looked like it, and she ‘accidentally’ spilled some of her coffee on me. I did the same to her, grinning, claiming that I’d ‘tripped’.
And that other time, when we went out to this guy, Stan’s party, and we got back to mine at around 3am, and Mom was furious at us. We were pissed out of our heads, too. I’m surprised we got home safe, to be honest.
Then, the last car I saw her in, when I was dropping her off to the airport, helping her into the passenger seat of my black Punto.

Her face was emotionless, her eyes red and puffy. I sighed, walking around to the drivers’ side, climbing in and fastening my seatbelt. I started the engine, driving the 20 minute drive to the airport in silence.

I remember the time you sat and told me
About your Jesus, and how not to look back
Even if no one believes us
When it hurts so bad, sometimes
Not having you here

Multiple times, she’d told me about her religion and her beliefs, the way she was brought up. Her abstinence, even though she didn’t wear a ring, her culture making her family believe that you shouldn’t really make physical contact with the opposite sex, even though if it were to shake hands, or whatever.
And because of it all, it was one of the reasons why she had to leave.
Why I had to make her leave.
The day she left, when we confessed our love.
But, she couldn’t be with someone like me, someone who was brought up a Catholic, someone who doesn’t really believe in a God.
But of course, she didn’t care. But she had a reputation to protect, and I completely understand that, even though she doesn’t.
Her mother wouldn’t let her be with me. Ever.
I was a rebel, a notorious bad-boy in her eyes. Even though she did treat me well, like her own, she would never see us eye-to-eye on matters like this. Because of her strong, strict faith. It could never happen; I wouldn’t want to be the guy that separates a mother from her daughter.

Tonight I've fallen and I can't get up
I need your loving hands to come and pick me up
And every night I miss you
I can just look up
And know the stars are
Holding you, holding you, holding you
Tonight

What wouldn’t I give to have her here?
I miss her so fucking much.