{"id":1145,"date":"2019-02-13T12:45:27","date_gmt":"2019-02-13T17:45:27","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/read.whitefire-publishing.com\/?p=1145"},"modified":"2020-06-01T09:07:09","modified_gmt":"2020-06-01T13:07:09","slug":"dance-from-deep-within","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/dance-from-deep-within\/","title":{"rendered":"Dance from Deep Within"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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Dance from Deep Within<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

by D. L. Sleiman<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Three unlikely friends\u2026learning to dance to the song of the Spirit.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Despite her conservative Muslim heritage, Layla Al-Rai longs for a chance to earn her degree in engineering and perhaps even\u2026dare she dream\u2026to choose her own husband. But young women from her background rarely enjoy such freedoms. When she finally talks her parents into letting her attend college, she is drawn to fellow twenty-something students, Allie and Rain, over a class project.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Allie, the blonde ballerina, faces her own struggles as she deals with an ex-fianc\u00e9 and a church she had hoped to leave behind. Rain, the bi-racial hippie chick, longs for something to believe in, but her questioning could cost her the love of her life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When Layla\u2019s childhood sweetheart reenters her world, it seems her dreams might become real. Until everything falls apart. When she meets truth face to face, will she find the courage to accept it even if it requires the ultimate sacrifice?<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t

Chapter 1<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

Four years\u2019 worth of anticipation gathered in her chest. A pounding she\nmust quiet before stepping through that doorway. It\u2019s just a door<\/em>.\nLayla Al-Rai glanced at the handle, and then back to her Old Dominion\nUniversity schedule to review it yet again. English 101 MWF 10:00 a.m.\nBatten Arts 205<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yes, this was the place. She had circled the hallway several times to be\npunctual but not early. It\u2019s just a door<\/em>,\nshe told herself more firmly this time. And the people beyond it were just students,\nlike her. She could barely believe she\nwas standing here\u2014that her Middle Eastern mother had relented at long last. But\nyears of patient persistence won her over. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Allah willing, her parents might\neven let her stay long enough to finish the engineering degree she dreamed of\nbefore insisting Layla marry. Surely stranger things had happened. She was only\ntwenty-two years old. She should be enjoying her youth. And maybe she\u2019d\nfinally make friends with some regular Americans. Growing up in the Islamic\nsection of Detroit had made it all too easy to stay immersed in her Muslim\nbubble. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

If only her best friend Fatima\nwere here, the day would be complete. She and Fatima had dreamed of this moment\ntogether, imagined choosing classes and buying textbooks. But for her devout\nSaudi Arabian neighbor, college could never be more than a bittersweet fantasy.\nFor Fatima\u2019s sake, she determined to enjoy the experience all the more and to e-mail\nher every last detail. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Layla straightened her spine and smoothed her red knit mini-dress over her\nmodest black leggings and long-sleeved shirt. Reaching up, she adjusted her\nsilky veil. The elegant crimson fabric draped about her head, covering her hair\nand neck but leaving her face exposed for all to see. She took a deep breath\nand attempted to relax her features into a casual expression. Then she willed\nher feet to move forward. Time to step into a new experience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Entering the classroom, the pounding in her chest quickened. But\nshe would not let the dingy walls and faint smell of mold dampen her spirits.\nInstead she focused upon the windows across the back displaying a bright golden\nsun, blue sky, and swaying green leaves. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

As she gathered her courage and\nscanned the room for empty seats, she noticed that most of the hyperactive\nfreshmen looked like they had mistaken the class for a keg party. But she spied\none blond woman in the corner, her nose buried in a novel, quietly waiting for\nthe lesson to begin. Almost the same image that met Layla every time she\nentered Fatima\u2019s bedroom. The sight comforted her, and she headed in that\ndirection.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She drew stares as she crossed the room and hid deeper\nin the folds of her veil. In general, Americans were politically correct enough\nto be respectful of, although curious about, a Muslim female in their midst.\nBut she\u2019d learned the hard way that a few sick guys harbored twisted fantasies\ninvolving veiled women. Her uncle blamed the evil porn sites of the \u201cinfidels,\u201d\nbut Layla chose not to use that close-minded term. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

As she reached the desk in the back, the novel-wielding\nstudent looked up with a warm smile. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Layla smiled back. \u201cIs this seat taken?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, please.\u201d She pointed to the chair, and Layla lowered herself into it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The blond returned to her book, but when a flying paper airplane came\nsailing onto her desk, she picked it up and smashed it, shooting a sassy grin\nto the perpetrators. Layla wished she could be so confident around men.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cUgh,\u201d she said to Layla. \u201cIt\u2019s like going back to high school. Maybe\nworse. Probably wasn\u2019t such a bright idea to take eight years off before\nstarting college.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMe too. Well, only four, but it\u2019s been awhile.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sure you\u2019ll do fine. I\u2019m Allie.\u201d She tossed the smashed plane to\nLayla. \u201cCute outfit.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If Layla\u2019s old-fashioned auntie had her way this morning, Layla would have\nleft the house camouflaged from head to toe in an ugly gray overcoat. She grinned. With Auntie, she had to pick her battles,\nbut this one had been so worth it. The red mini-dress ensemble was a success!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She tipped the crumpled paper in salute. \u201cThanks. I\u2019m Layla.\u201d Placing the\nunusual gift on her desk for additional courage, she turned her attention to\norganizing her notebooks and supplies. She needed this class to go well and\ngive her strength to face the rest of the week.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The instructor entered the classroom and situated himself at the \u201870s\nstyle teacher\u2019s desk. The middle-aged professor with his wool suit jacket and\nwire-rimmed glasses fit the role so perfectly, he could have walked straight\nout of her television set. He pulled a stack of papers from his briefcase and\nbegan a weaving journey about the room. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Layla examined Allie as the teacher handed out syllabi. The young woman\u2019s\nhair was pulled atop her head in a casual bun with tendrils escaping. Her slim\nlavender T-shirt flattered her slender, graceful figure and blue-eyed, blond\ncoloring. The creamy tank top worn underneath gave the shirt a more modest cut.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Looking closer, she attempted to decipher the words on Allie\u2019s T-shirt. It\nwas difficult from her angle until Allie shifted. Your beauty should not\ncome from outward appearance\u2026it should be that of your inner self, the unfading\nbeauty of a gentle and quiet spirit. ~ I Peter 3:3-4.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Some sort of scripture? Christian, Layla guessed from the cross-like\nsymbol substituting for the \u201cT\u201d on the logo. The verse resonated with her, and\nshe loved the surrounding drawing of a young woman\u2019s face half concealed by a\ntumble of modern art swirls in place of her hair. But Layla\u2019s mind struggled to connect the sentiment\nto the brash girls from the Christian community in Lebanon. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The professor began the morning by introducing himself as Professor\nRobinson and giving the basic guidelines for the class. Then something in his\ndemeanor altered. \u201cThis year I\u2019ve decided to use a central theme for our\nwriting assignments: Unity in Diversity.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He pushed up his glasses and crossed his arms over his chest. \u201cA favorite\npoem of mine by Harlem Renaissance author Langston Hughes begins, \u2018I too, sing\nAmerica.\u2019 He goes on to explain that while he is the darker brother sent to the\nkitchen when company comes, someday things would change. \u2018They\u2019ll see how\nbeautiful I am and be ashamed,\u2019 he says, \u2018I, too, am America.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The brief quote stirred Layla with hope, but with confusion as well. She\ntoo was America\u2014sort of\u2014not quite. Her passport claimed she was a U.S. citizen.\nBut what did that really mean? A part of her longed to feel more connected to\nthis land of her birth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis is the power of literature. It allows us to see the beauty in people\naround us. Gives us glimpses into their minds and their souls. Our readings\nwill come from various societies and focus on multiculturalism. It seems like\nwe have a nice mix of students here.\u201d The professor gestured to the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Layla took in the faces staring back at him: mostly Caucasian, but\ninterspersed with Asian, Hispanic, and African-American. Before moving here she\u2019d\nbeen assured that, thanks to the local Navy bases, the Hampton Roads area had a\nbetter ethnic balance than the rest of Virginia. Although, Layla still appeared\nto be the only Islamic student in the bunch. Her nervous excitement reared\nagain. What if she couldn\u2019t do it? Couldn\u2019t click with these people? Couldn\u2019t\nconnect?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut let\u2019s think further than skin deep about what defines our \u2018cultures,\u2019\u201d\ncontinued the professor. \u201cThe surfer and the jock, the artist and the\nbusinessman, the Christian and the atheist, the New Yorker and the Alabaman. In\na moment I\u2019m going to give you all a chance to mingle. I want you to find two\nto three students who in some way come from a different culture than your own.\nIdeally, you will find both similarities and differences. These students will\nbecome your diversity group for the semester, so choose wisely.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

This was precisely what Layla desired, a chance to broaden her\nperspective. She tingled at the thought. But could she really do it? And what\nmight it cost her if she did?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The professor turned on the overhead projector and pointed with his pen to\na list of essays, creative writing exercises, and a final research paper. \u201cTake\na moment to glance over the assignments and then begin looking for your group\nmembers.\u201d He put the cap back on the pen. \u201cRemember, the purpose of this\nproject is to see past people\u2019s exteriors and get a peek at who they are deep\nwithin. I\u2019ll be around to help.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Oh, the class sounded too amazing to be true. Layla bit her lip to hold\nback a rare squeal and proceeded to skim the syllabus. Each lesson was designed\nto explore the beliefs of others. Their personalities. Their cultures.\nContrasting viewpoints. The research paper tackled the subject of one aspect of\nyour culture you would like to change. Her mind brimmed with ideas already.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As Layla reached the end of the list, the boy in front of her turned\naround and leered. \u201cI\u2019d sure be happy to get a peek at who you are deep inside,\ngorgeous.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Layla recoiled. Her anticipation about the assignment fled, and her\nfingers began to tremble. Barely into her first class, and already her auntie\u2019s\nworst fears were coming true. She had no idea how to handle such an uncouth\nmale. What had she gotten herself into?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u201cBack off, scumbag. Layla\u2019s my\npartner.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Layla breathed a sigh of relief as Allie claimed her hand and held it firm\nin her own. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Allie whispered in her ear, \u201cDon\u2019t worry, I\u2019ve got this.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Layla\u2019s shaking subsided. Why couldn\u2019t she think of responses like Allie\njust delivered? But even if she could, would she dare speak so boldly to a man?\nProbably not. This was foreign territory for sure. More so than she had ever\nimagined.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The girls pushed their chairs together. Allie beckoned to another\ntwenty-something woman who had arrived mid-lecture and slid into the desk\nclosest to the door. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The young lady mirrored Layla\u2019s relief as she came to join them. She\nappeared the Bohemian type in her Birkenstock sandals, raggedy pants, and loose\ntunic shirt with the strap of her patchwork bag cutting diagonally across the\noutfit. Her caf\u00e9-au-lait skin contrasted attractively with the ivory cotton of\nher hand-woven top. A tuft of golden-brown corkscrew curls framed her face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Layla couldn\u2019t contain a welcoming grin. This girl would be fun to get to\nknow. So different than anyone she had met before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHi, I\u2019m Rain,\u201d she said as she pulled up a third desk beside them. She\nsettled in, eagerly leaning forward as Allie and Layla introduced themselves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Allie peered at Rain. \u201cYou don\u2019t have a boyfriend with dreadlocks, do\nyou?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Layla gasped at Allie\u2019s audacity. Did she intend the comment to be\nderogatory? Hopefully Rain would not be offended. Layla so wanted this project\nto go well. Her college dreams flashed before her eyes, in peril already.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHey.\u201d Rain wagged her finger at Allie. \u201cI thought we were moving beyond\nour stereotypes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 Allie smiled. \u201cI saw you with him\nat McDonalds last night. You guys make an adorable couple. I remember because I\nwas surprised that you ordered meat. Now that, I confess, was stereotypical.\nHamburgers don\u2019t fit my image of the whole Bohemian vibe.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rain laughed, and Layla restrained her sigh of relief.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe lived on the streets for years,\u201d Rain said. \u201cWe worked and ate in a\nlot of soup kitchens. You don\u2019t get to be picky.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Streets, soup kitchens? Layla never dreamed of enduring such horrors.\nCompassion welled in her heart, a pleasant respite from the tension of the\nmorning. \u201cHarum habibti<\/em>.\u201d The whispered Arabic phrase of sympathy\nescaped Layla\u2019s mouth before she could stop it. \u201cYou poor thing. That\u2019s\nterrible.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rain placed a warm hand on Layla\u2019s. \u201cNo. We were just experiencing the\nplight of the homeless. Raising our social consciousness. Stuff like that. I\u2019m\nwriting a book about it. That\u2019s why I\u2019m here. To study writing. Virginia was\nthe last place we established residency. Couldn\u2019t resist those in-state tuition\nrates.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what drew me back too.\u201d Allie nodded. \u201cI\u2019m here for dance and\nbusiness. What about you, Layla?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEngineering,\u201d she said. \u201cWell, I guess the three of us will have no\nproblem proving our case for a culturally diverse group.\u201d So much so that Layla\u2019s\nhead threatened to explode on the spot. She tried to be open-minded, really she\ndid, but this was almost too much to take in at once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rain glanced around the small circle. \u201cSo we\u2019ve got our Middle Eastern\nMuslim. Classic white chick. Let me guess. Anglo-Saxon Protestant?\u201d Her fingers\nswirled about expressively as she spoke. \u201cThen there\u2019s me. Bi-racial,\ntree-hugging, social-activist raised by aging flower children. I guess my\nheritage is a little harder to pin down.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Allie raised an eyebrow. \u201cSince you seem to have us all figured out, do\nyou mind if I ask about your religion?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHmm, my mother went through her pagan Wicca phase,\u201d Rain said. \u201cIt didn\u2019t\nreally stick, though. I\u2019m a spiritual person, but I find religion restrictive.\nI suppose I would describe my faith as\u2026imaginative.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cInteresting.\u201d Layla wrote that down, although she had no idea what it\nmeant. She might as well buckle up her seat belt and try to enjoy the\nassignment. She was in for quite a ride with this group.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

~*~<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Imaginative\nreligion. Hmm. Allie Carmichael was hesitant to encourage Rain\u2019s New Age belief\nsystem, but she didn\u2019t want to blow an opportunity to befriend these women. She\nliked them already and always enjoyed meeting people with different\nperspectives. Tapping her hand against the fake wood of the desktop, she said,\n\u201cWorks great for the project. I\u2019m sure we can get a lot of mileage out of\nthat.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Allie took in the\ntwo girls before her. The fashionable veiled woman with her bright red\nlipstick. The hippie chick with fresh, clean skin shining in the sun. What a\nstudy in contrasts. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rain folded herself cross-legged on her chair in an earthy manner. \u201cSo\nwhere do we start?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Layla scribbled more notes into her well-organized binder. \u201cAccording to\nthe syllabus, we need to choose a neutral territory outside of school to meet\nand continue our discussion.\u201d Although she spoke perfect English with no\ndiscernable accent, a certain stiffness to her cadence caused Allie to suspect\nit wasn\u2019t her first language.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo I guess a bar is out of the question.\u201d As Rain made the teasing\nsuggestion, Layla\u2019s eyes popped wide open.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFor both of us.\u201d Allie wouldn\u2019t mind so much. She had visited plenty of\npubs while touring Europe with her Christian dance company. But she had picked\nup a few tidbits about Muslims during her travels as well, and she didn\u2019t want\nLayla to feel uncomfortable. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Layla glanced from her to Rain and back again with dark, haunting,\nblack-rimmed eyes over a slim nose and full mouth. Allie had noticed a number\nof trendy young Muslim women around campus. Although they displayed only the\nskin of their hands and faces, they managed to look even more stylish in their\nlayered clothing and matching veils than the normal American girls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you drink?\u201d\nLayla squinted at Allie as though seeing her for the first time. \u201cI thought most Christians\ndid. That\u2019s the main way you can spot a Christian in Lebanon. Beer and bikinis.\u201d\nLayla sucked in a breath and bit her lip, as if she had said too much. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Pretty funny. Although Allie suspected her parents wouldn\u2019t find the\nassessment amusing. They would probably offer a lecture on sound doctrine and\ndenominational differences. But Allie was nothing like them. She attempted a\njoke to lighten the moment. \u201cDon\u2019t you know the three Christian commandments:\nthou shalt not drink, thou shalt not smoke, thou shalt not cuss?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But somehow her attempt at humor fell flat. Allie twisted her face in an\nironic expression. True Christianity was so much more. She still could hardly\nbelieve she had come home to subject herself to such a legalistic mindset all\nover again. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSeriously? Christians are that strict?\u201d Layla pressed a hand to her\nmouth. \u201cI didn\u2019t realize. Things are very different in Lebanon.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Allie didn\u2019t know what to say. She wanted to believe she was free of all\nthat religiosity. She had felt free enough for the last eight years on the\nmission field. But since she had returned to Virginia, her family\u2019s belief\nsystem slowly wrapped itself around her like some sort of boa constrictor. She\nhated viewing herself through their eyes. Hearing their voices in her head. Now\nhere they were again, threatening her conversation with these refreshing young\nwomen. Oh, how she wished she could afford college without her parents\u2019 help. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, those aren\u2019t the Christian commandments,\u201d Rain snickered. \u201cShe\u2019s\nbeing facetious. None of those are found in the Bible as far as I know, but\nthey\u2019re all some Christians seem to worry about.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Allie couldn\u2019t help but wonder about Rain\u2019s previous experience with\nChristians. People like her parents, perhaps? \u201cShe\u2019s right. They aren\u2019t in the\nBible. Not exactly, anyway. It\u2019s complicated.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOr maybe just stupid.\u201d Rain pinned Allie with her gaze. Her belligerent\ntone spoke volumes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMaybe it is.\u201d Allie continued to meet the stare emanating from Rain\u2019s\ncatlike golden-green eyes, hoping Rain could somehow see clear into her soul\nand understand that Allie carried wounds from that sort of judgmental thinking\ntoo. She suspected her own mother still questioned her commitment to Christ. Over\nwhat? A pair of cut-off jean shorts? Some alternative music? A belly piercing\nthat chafed against her leotards and had grown shut long ago? Did her years\nspent sharing the gospel count for nothing?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rain shook off the challenge. \u201cSo how about a coffee shop?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCoffee, yes.\u201d Layla sighed, brushing the fire-engine red fringe from her\nface. \u201cI\u2019m so sick of my auntie\u2019s syrupy Lebanese version. But can we make it\nafter sunset? Ramadan lasts another week, and I could really use some good\nAmerican coffee.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

As the\nprofessor called the class to order, Allie shot Rain a questioning glance. What\ndid Ramadan have to do with sunset? Rain shrugged, clearly having no clue\neither. Allie had much to learn about these surprising young women. She couldn\u2019t\nwait to start the project. Maybe this homecoming wouldn\u2019t be the disaster she\ndreaded after all.<\/p>\n\n\n