THE SUN’S RAYS ON MY FACE JOLT ME AWAKE AND IT takes me a second to realize I’m not at home. A bird flies above me, its silhouette streaking through the pale blue sky. My gaze follows it.
That’s right. I am home.
Beside me, Kenan stirs in his sleep, and I glance at him. His chest rises and falls steadily, comforting me. He winces and I hope it’s because the ground is unkind to his back and not due to nightmares. His hair is longer than when I met him, and his scruff is more pronounced. I wonder how it would feel to run my fingers through his hair.
My nerves spark when I remember last night. I take the ring out of my pocket and hold it high, admiring it in the light. I didn’t want to wear it in the darkness where I couldn’t see how it glitters on my finger. It’s rose gold, encrusted in the middle with a line of white gold, perfectly modeled to resemble tiny diamonds. It’s beautiful and simple and what I’d have picked out if I had been in the shop.
“It was my mother’s,” Kenan says, and I jump.
He sits up as well. His eyes are bright and a morning blush blooms on his cheeks.
The ring suddenly feels heavy in my palm. “It’s so beautiful,” I whisper.
“I… I don’t know what else to say.”
He smiles sadly. “You don’t have to say anything.”
I shake my head. “I’m so sorry about your parents. I—I would love to have known your mother.”
He fiddles with his fingers. “She never really understood why I decided to become an animator instead of studying medicine, but she supported me anyway. And even then, she knew me so well. Just from seeing you at your brother’s wedding, she knew we’d be perfect for each other.” His eyes gloss
over for a second, then he shakes his head. “She would have loved for you to have her ring.”
“I’m honored to wear it.” I try to slip it on my finger, hoping it will fit.
But it doesn’t. My fingers are made of skin and bone, and it hangs loosely.
“Too big?”
“Yeah.” I sigh and then remember my necklace. I pull it from under my collar. “I have this. My parents gave it to me when I graduated.”
He peers at it. “Fits perfectly with the ring.”
I thread the chain through the ring and it glitters prettily. “What do you think?”
“Beautiful.” But he isn’t looking at the necklace.
I blush and tuck it away under my sweater.
He scratches the back of his neck. “We have a week left and I know I said I wanted to get married in Syria, but I didn’t ask if you—”
“I want…,” I cut in. “I want one of my last actions in Syria to be this.
Something good.”
He beams.
“What’s the saying? ‘Make haste with good deeds’?” I smile. My head feels a bit light with the excitement of a decision I didn’t think twice about but leaned on my feelings for. “Let’s get married today.”
He laughs and stands. “Why don’t you check on Layla first?”
I gasp, scrambling to my feet. “Oh my God. She must be worried out of
her mind!”
He nods. “Let’s go.”
I can’t hear anything apart from our breathing, which hopefully means there’s nothing dangerous outside my home’s ruins. I move to climb up the rubble and Kenan stretches a hand out, stopping me.
“Let me,” he says. “Please.”
I nod. Kenan hoists himself over the wreckage. As he looks from side to side, he moves slowly out of my view. Then I hear him drop to his feet on the other side with a grunt of pain. A few minutes pass with no sound except the birds.
“Okay, it’s safe,” Kenan calls, and a few seconds later I jump down beside him.
In the day, more of last night’s catastrophe comes into view: from the faint smoke spiraling to the sky to the graveyard silence that has taken over.
We grimace as we trudge forward, reality scratching through our shield of bliss.
I look back at my long-ago home, feeling my heart tighten. I wonder whether I’ll be back or if it’s the last time I’ll see it.
When we reach Layla’s home, Kenan insists he’ll be fine walking back to his place on his own.
“I have to check on my siblings. Lama is still recovering.”
I chew my tongue.
“I’ll be fine, Salama,” he laughs. “You’re marrying me today. I’m more than fine.”
I duck my head to hide my red face. “Yeah, just—I’ll tell Layla the news and then we can work on that.”
He winks. “I’ll see you at the hospital?”
I nod, then a thought flutters in my mind. “Why don’t you bring Yusuf and Lama? I mean, if Lama’s feeling up to it. Also, it could distract Yusuf from… well, everything. I’m sure they’d want to be there.”
Kenan’s smile is so warm I feel it all the way to my extremities.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “I’ll ask them.”
I click open the door and shut it behind me to find Layla sitting in the hallway, her legs stretched out in front of her and stomach still bulging. Her head droops to the side, eyelids closed.
I crouch down beside her. “Layla,” I whisper, and she starts.
“Wha—” she says groggily, blinking rapidly before settling her gaze on me. “Salama! Oh, alhamdulillah!”
I quickly hug her, breathing in her daisy scent.
“What happened yesterday?” she asks.
“I’m going to tell you, but you can’t interrupt me till the end.”
Her expression turns curious, and I notice she looks a bit worn out.
“Fine.”
I fill Layla in on everything. To her credit, she doesn’t utter a single sound but as soon as I finish, she grabs my arm and lets out an Oh my God!
I show her the ring and she squeals.
“When?” she asks, breathless.
I can’t help but grin. “Now.”
She collapses into another fit of Oh my God! and is able to pause it to say, “I told you someone was going to snatch you away from me!”
I laugh. “You’ll always be my priority.”
She chuckles, although it doesn’t sound full of life like it usually does.
“Good. Then I give you my blessing. Who’s going to marry you?”
I fidget with my hijab. “I was thinking Dr. Ziad. At the hospital. That
way there would be witnesses.”
She sighs. “Perfect.”
I take a deep breath. “I was wondering if Kenan and his siblings could move in with us. I—I don’t want him to be so far away from me.”
Layla beams. “Of course! It’s better we stick together till we leave.”
I exhale, a weight slipping off my shoulders. “Well then, you know I want you to be there. Can you come?”
She laughs lightly and brushes her pregnant belly. “I wish! But Baby Salama is being difficult. I’m feeling a bit tired.”
I press a palm to her forehead. She’s not too warm.
“I’m fine,” she says. “Just weary.”
“Well, of course you’re tired. You slept in the hallway!” I scold and help her onto the couch.
She settles comfortably under the covers before noticing the disappointed look on my face.
“Salama, I really want to come.” She squeezes my hand. “I would crawl if I could, but I can’t even do that now.”
Guilt washes over me. I can’t be selfish. “I know. It’s just, I didn’t think I’d get married without you at the wedding. It’s weird.”
She grimaces.
“I could ask Kenan to postpone it until we get to Germany. Or tomorrow. I’m okay with that.”
She shakes her head. “No. Today. You get married today. You never know—” She stops. “You’re not putting off your happiness for me. Besides, we’re definitely having a party and another wedding ceremony in Germany.
And of course, I’ll be the center of attention then, even if you are the bride.”
I laugh, my sadness lifting at the beautiful image it’s creating in my mind. Being this close to leaving is allowing the suppressed dreams to wake up and grow like ivy between the cracks. Layla and I picking our dresses and a matching smaller one for Little Salama, who will have her mother’s eyes and her father’s hair. Holding her in my arms would make me feel
closer to Hamza. Her pudgy hand grabbing my thumb in a tight grip and her little nose breathing in air that isn’t polluted with smoke and death.
Her time in Syria would be a dream she dreamed in the womb. One that exists only in the stories her mother and I tell her. Until one day she can come back to her country and grow the lemon trees.
I massage Layla’s shoulders for a bit. They’re stiff and bony under my hands and it’s an icy bucket of water on my dreams.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, eyes half closed. “Now go.” When I don’t move, she repeats, “Go! I’ll be here.”
She takes my hand in hers, peering at me through her eyelashes. “I’m so happy for you. So proud. Your parents and Hamza would be too. Look how you’ve changed.”
I give her one last squeeze before grabbing my lab coat. Today, this is my wedding dress, but in Germany, I’ll have a real one. With Layla. Safe and sound.
