The Revelation: Part 2

The smell of body odor and cheap cologne hits me as the lights flicker on automatically, showcasing a dingy hallway with beige lockers lining the walls. Aleban takes the lead, pulling me towards a flight of stairs as I glance around, mildly surprised, my anger at my husband temporarily forgotten. Dozens of questions swirl through my mind. But first, “where did you get the key card?” I ask as we rapidly ascend the steps to where I figure the girl’s locker room will be. 

Aleban shrugs. “She didn’t tell me. But it’s odd, isn’t it?” He looks back at me with a pointed look and I realize he’s referring to that something else that made him intrude on Sarikah’s privacy. I narrow my eyes at him, my temper rising.

“Just because–” I’m interrupted by someone’s voice on the landing above and slightly ahead of us. 

“She’s so weird. She never hangs out with us now.” I freeze. I know that voice. Another person speaks and I feel my hands forming fists as I recognize her voice too.   “Yeah, and it’s not like we did anything bad. We just made a funny TikTok about her.” A third voice speaks, but I can’t hear them because there’s a roaring sound in my ears. I can’t believe they’re talking like that about someone. I can’t believe no one’s saying anything. I thought they knew better. I thought I knew them. Those voices are voices that both Aleban and I know well. Voices that belong to girls that grew up alongside my daughter and had slumber parties and birthday parties and even holiday parties with her. I’m seconds away from running up the remaining steps and yelling at them when I feel Aleban’s arms keeping me back. “Wh—” 

“Just a funny TikTok?” My daughter's voice rings out. “Do you not remember what it said? Or what that caricature that was supposed to be me was doing? It wasn’t just a funny TikTok. It was a degrading, insulting TikTok that you guys should’ve had the intelligence not to make. But you made it anyway. If you were jealous or angry at me, then you should’ve said something. You should not have tried to make me seem stupid to make yourselves feel better. That’s why we’re not friends anymore. I don’t hang out with bullies.” 

I don’t hear what else is said, but within a few minutes, there’s silence on the landing. Aleban and I glance at each other in wide-eyed surprise. “Did you know that was happening?” he whispers.

“Did you? I respond. 

“No. I didn’t think her friends were bullying her on top of everything else…” 

“What do you mean ‘everything else?’” I ask.

Aleban looks at me hesitantly. “It’s about the papers I found in Sarikah’s—”.

I huff, walking ahead of him into the girl’s locker room. “Remember what I said? Not until we get home. I still can’t believe you did that.” 

“Humayra—” Aleban starts to say, but I ignore him (and the various high schoolers staring at us), as we head towards the locker room exit where I know Sarikah is waiting. Outside, Sarikah leans against the wall, her bag on the ground beside her, facing a set of windows and door showcasing the parking lot. 

“Sarikah, are you okay?” I ask, hurrying towards her. “How long have they been bullying you? You know we’re here if you want to talk, right?” 

“It's fine.” Our daughter picks her bag up from the ground and turns towards us, with a bright smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “They haven’t been doing it for long. And I know I can talk to both of you; I have this handled.”

“Sarikah…” Aleban starts, but before he can say anything more, she gets up and walks away. We stare at her retreating figure as she pulls the door open and walks across the parking lot to my car, her pace a determined clip. Never once has Sarikah interrupted us or turned her back on us, and especially not so rudely. Even when she’s mad, she never walks away: she stays, telling her side of the story, not leaving until a compromise has been reached or she’s forced into her room. It’s a new feeling for me to watch my daughter shut me and Aleban down so completely.

“Did that not seem weird to you?” Aleban’s voice breaks me out of my stupor.

“What?” 

“Did that not seem a little… odd to you? She’s never been so secretive or one to shut us down. Yet, she’s been more and more secretive this past year. “Don’t you see?This is why I went--” 

I gave him a look, and he amends, “and invaded her room. Being jealous of all the time she spent with her friends and not with me, like she used to, was only part of the reason. She was hiding things from us and I could tell. I wanted to see if anything was wrong.”  

I look at my husband. His eyes meet mine and I can tell he means every word. I can see his reasoning, see that in a sense he is right.But… “that still doesn’t excuse the fact that you went into our daughter’s room without her permission, especially when you’re the one who made respecting each others privacy a a core family principle. If you noticed something was wrong, you should’ve talked to her or me.” 

“Like we just talked to Sarikah?” Aleban points out. I wince.

“She’s probably tired from beating those nasty former friends of hers down. She’ll be more talkative tomorrow.”

Aleban snorts. “Like she’s been so talkative about her secrets these past months.” I ignore him. Maybe a new day would mean Sarikah would open up and talk about her former friends bullying her or whatever was on those papers Aleban found.