My fingers are almost shaking as I carefully type in the ten digit phone number I have had memorized my entire life. The buttons on my home phone seem to glow a bit more dull, and even the ringing of the phone from the other end seems to be agonized, almost as if the world is telling me to hang up. But I refuse to give up; I canāt let my lily-white friends down. Not again.
The phone rings once. Twice. Three times. Still no answer. Just as I am about to hang up, there is a click.
All I can hear is heavy breathing.
āHelloā¦.ā I say quietly, my voice shaking. āIsā¦.. Is this Muslim?ā
There was a long silence before I heard a voice answer āya lolā.
āI was thinkingā¦ā¦ā¦..ā I begin cautiously. āMaybe murder isā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦bad.ā
āHabibi, Iā¦..I donāt understand. What are you trying to sayā¦.?ā The voice seems shaken.
āWhat ifā¦ā¦.world peace is good and killing people isā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦not goodā
He lets out an audible gasp. āAre you saying ISIS isā¦ā¦.bad?ā
āMaybe death isā¦ā¦.not good.ā I continue. My heart is racing. I remind myself that I am saving thousands of lives, and inhale.
The silence from the other end of the line is almost deafening. He seemed to be thinking, as if he had never considered this idea before in his life. Truly I had opened his heart and his mind. Thisā¦. This could end terrorism.
āMuslimā¦.Please.ā I whisper.
I hear a tear roll down his cheek, with my Muslim Communication Hearing⢠and hold my breath as he finally breathes out his next words.