Desert Stars by Joe Vasicek

flourish of his hand, he downed the coffee in one gulp.
Jalil grinned and drank his own, relief flooding through him. After
they’d both finished, they rose to their feet and
embraced.
    “ Good luck, my boy,” said
Jalil’s father as he pulled him close. “May Allah go with you
both.”
     
    * * * * *
     
    “ Mira? You’re
leaving?”
    Mira looked up from her packing to see
Rina standing in the doorway to the older girls’ tent. Amina and
Surayya were probably out doing chores—or seeing off the Jabaliyn
men, which was more likely. Either way, she was alone with her
little sister.
    “ Yes,” said Mira, packing
her last set of clothes. “I’m going away for a while.” Sunlight
filtered in through the coarse weave of the dark tent fabric, the
only indication in the dimly lit room that it was day
outside.
    “ Where?”
    Mira gave her a reassuring
smile. They’d always been the quiet ones in the family, and with a
mother and sisters as vocal as theirs, that had given them a bond
that the others couldn’t understand. I’m
going to miss her, Mira realized as she
contemplated the long journey ahead of her.
    “ Do you know the picture
in the front hall? The one with the pretty white tower surrounded
by a landscape of glass?”
    Rina’s eyes widened. “You’re going
there?”
    Mira nodded. As she closed the canvas
duffel bag and rose from the stiff mattress pad that had served as
her bed for most of her life, her little sister ran up and hugged
her knees, as if to never let go.
    “ Oh, Rina!” she laughed.
“Don’t be sad. I’m not going to be gone forever.”
    Rina sniffed and looked up with her
wide, innocent eyes. “When will you be back?”
    The question made Mira
think back to the conversation with Shira the day
before in the darkened cellar. If you
fail…
    “ God-willing, not
long.”
    Rina’s shoulders shook as she quietly
began to sob. Mira dropped her bag and knelt down, touching a hand
to her face.
    “ Rina? What’s
wrong?”
    “ When Mother says
‘God-willing,’ it always means ‘no.’”
    Mira wrapped her arms around her
little sister and held her in a warm embrace. “I’ll come back,” she
whispered. “I promise.”
    She held Rina tight until her sobbing
stopped. Outside, the shouts of the Jabaliyn men and the starting
of engines sounded through the fabric of the tent.
    “ I have to leave now,” she
said, letting Rina go as she rose to her feet. “Be good
now.”
    Rina nodded and rubbed her nose with
the back of her hand, her eyes still filled with the sadness of
goodbye.
    Mira slipped on her headscarf with one
hand and lifted her duffel bag with the other. Strange to think it
contained nearly all of her worldly belongings: a few changes of
clothes, some headscarves, a set of prayer beads, and a pretty
stone that Rina had found in the desert and given to her. The
rest—mostly some old pieces of jewelry, including some copper-gold
bracelets and a pair of garnet earrings—she wore on her
person.
    Smiling one last time at her little
sister, she walked down the outer corridor toward the side
entrance. Rina watched her go, but didn’t follow.
    The glaring light of the sun made Mira
squint and lift a hand to cover her eyes. It was already late
afternoon, and the heat of the day had reached its peak only an
hour before. Several of the young men loading the caravaneers had
foreheads streaked with sweat, while perspiration pooled in their
robes under their arms.
    Practically the entire
camp had come out to see the Jabaliyn convoy off. Shira stood by Mira’s father, arms folded across her
finest embroidered red and black robes. Little Majd and Alia stood
by her knees, looking on with wide, wonderstruck eyes. Zayne
embraced Jalil at the door of one of the caravaneers, Tiera
standing aloof a few paces behind her.
    Mira stopped and turned around to look
back at her home one last time. The tents from the wedding were
still up, their once bright colors faded from exposure to sun and
sand.