“I’M TALKING TO MY UNCLE TODAY TO SEE WHEN he’s coming to Syracuse,”
Kenan says as I shrug on my lab coat. “I’ll check the grocery at the end of the street, and if they don’t have any lemons, I’ll go to the one by the hospital.”
“Okay. Be careful.” I stifle a yawn. We dozed off on the couch in the early hours of the morning when our sleep-deprived bodies couldn’t run on fumes anymore. But I was able to stomach the small tuna sandwich Kenan made me for breakfast. That alone has given me a boost of energy.
He kisses my cheek. “I’ll see you after your shift.”
When I get to the hospital, Dr. Ziad has me check on some of the patients whose respiratory systems have taken a major hit from the sarin. A few more passed during the night, most of them children, their faces still frozen in petrified expressions. I swallow down the breakfast threatening to come up. I hand out water and administer antibiotics and anesthetics until noon.
When I finally stumble into the main atrium, I find Dr. Ziad alone, and it strikes me as strange.
“Doctor, is everything all right?” I ask. I haven’t told him I’m leaving, not knowing how to put it into words, and guilt twists in my soul.
He grimaces. “The chemical attack has weakened the FSA’s defenses greatly. They’re finding it difficult to hold up against the military’s tanks.”
Air vanishes from my lungs. “What does that mean?”
“It means we need to pray. The FSA is doing everything they can, but we have no one but God now.”
I close my eyes, my lips mouthing a supplication.
Dr. Ziad smiles sadly. “If we die, Salama, at least we die doing the right thing. We die as martyrs.”
And I’ll see Layla, Baby Salama, Mama, and Baba again. Hopefully Hamza as well.
“Death doesn’t scare me, Doctor,” I whisper. “It’s being taken alive.”
He shudders, nodding. “Insh’Allah it doesn’t come to that.”
A patient calls for him and he walks away, leaving me stewing in my thoughts. It’s clear Dr. Ziad thinks we have but days, if not moments, of fragile safety before the walls come crashing down.
I have to find Am. I search all the patients’ rooms before locating him at
the back door, chewing on a toothpick.
“Am,” I say, and he straightens.
“What?”
I let out a breath. “Have you heard what the people are saying?”
He must have. People talk. Members of the Free Syrian Army live among us. He gives me a half shrug. “I’ve heard enough.”
“What if the military breaches before the twenty-fifth?” I ask in a low voice lest I invoke the breach myself.
He sighs. “Salama, I’m the person who gets the boat. I’m not a military man or someone with influence. I stand to lose more than money if that were to happen, but some things are outside my control. This is one of them.”
“Can’t we leave earlier?” I ask. “Like today?”
He shakes his head. “I know the guards stationed at the borders. I know their timing and shifts. The ones letting us through will be there on the twenty-fifth. We risk all our lives if we gamble with guards I don’t know.
There are ones who’ll take you and your money. No law holds them accountable.” Flashes of the horror Khawf showed me the day before the protest appear before my eyes and I stifle a terrified gasp.
Am steps toward me, and it surprises me to see his face full of pity.
“Salama, you’ve done everything. The rest is up to God. To fate. If you’re meant to be in Munich, you will be, even if the whole military rips this place apart. And if you’re not, then not even a private plane landing in the middle of Freedom Square to whisk you away will do that.”
I’m taken aback. These are words I believe to my core, as does every Muslim. Fate has his strings, but we’re the ones who twist them together with our actions. My belief in what’s meant to be doesn’t make me a passive player. No. I fight and fight and fight for my life. Layla fought for
hers. Kenan fights for his. And whatever happens, we accept the outcome, knowing we did everything. I haven’t heard these words in a while and it jerks something awake in me to hear them from Am of all people.
“Thank you,” I whisper. I consider telling him it’ll just be four people on that boat, but somehow the words can’t make it past the haze of grief.
“Khalid Mosque, ten a.m.,” he reminds me. “It’s just three more days.”
I nod, feeling my resolve strengthen. Am’s words sustain me for the rest of the day until exhaustion wobbles my knees.
When the sky becomes a bright orange, I sit on the broken steps of the hospital, letting my thoughts find one another. There’s a serenity in this silence. Thankfully, there have been no victims from bombs or military attacks today. It unnerves me for a few seconds; we’ve never had a pause on the attacks before. A horrible thought whispers to me that the military might be planning something, but I banish it away when I see Kenan walking out of the hospital.
He lights up when he sees me, and I can’t stop the smile on my face. He sits beside me, stretching his long legs in front of him, and I lean my head
against his shoulder.
“Long day?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
He links his fingers in mine and raises my hand to his lips. His breath is warm against it, and he kisses my scars.
“Thank you for your hard work. Thank you for saving lives,” he whispers, and my eyes sting with tears. I’ve had people thank me before, but it’s always when terror was running high, and I’ve never had the capacity to absorb their words. No one’s ever said it to me during the quiet moments. No one who knows the horrors I go through, the fight I put up every single day, has truly seen me and said those words.
My soul expands with love for him.
He notices the tears and becomes alarmed. “What happened? Did I say something wrong?”
I shake my head, rubbing my eyes. “No. I’m fine.”
He still looks worried, so I throw my arms around his shoulders and hug him. “I really am fine. But you’ve made me think of something.”
“What?” he replies, his voice muffled in my shoulder.
“I think I want to stay at the hospital these last three days. Help as many people as I can before I leave.”
He leans back. “You mean stay here at night?”
I nod. “You don’t have to stay with me. Lama and Yusuf will need you.”
He cracks his fingers. “You know the military is closing in. If they’re able to get into our part of the city, they’ll come here straight away and…”
His words collapse on top of each other, and he goes silent.
I smile, touching his cheek and think back to what Dr. Ziad told me this morning. “Kenan, they’ll also go to each house, break down the door, steal, destroy, rape, and kill. Or they’ll arrest us. You know this. So, if we might die, I want to die at the hospital doing something to help. Not hiding in my house.”
I know Layla would be proud of me. I wish I could tell her.
Kenan looks away and his eyelashes flutter. I know he’s holding back tears from the tightness of his lips.
“All right,” he finally says and takes both my hands in his. “But we don’t split up. I’ll bring Lama and Yusuf here and we stay together until the boat arrives.”
And I fall for him even more. I was too shy to ask him to stay with me. I didn’t want him to choose between me and his siblings. His siblings are a part of him. They’re his responsibility and I’m a newcomer in his world, trying to find a space to fit in. But he’s made more than enough room for
me.
“We stay together,” I agree.
He presses a quick kiss to my forehead before jumping to his feet. “I’ll be back within the hour.”
I grab his hand and squeeze it. “Be safe.”
He smiles. I miss his hand as soon as it leaves mine, and I watch him until he crosses the gates and turns around to wave at me before disappearing behind the wreckage.
I sigh. I look at the sky and send a quick prayer for him.
“Layla,” I murmur, watching the first stars begin to twinkle. “Mama.
Baba. I hope Hamza is with you. I imagine you’re all sitting beside one another laughing and eating and drinking. I love you and miss you so much.
But… I don’t want to join you just yet. I want you to meet Kenan later.
When he and I have grown old and had a lifetime together. I still have more in me. I can still go on. I know I can. Because I know that’s what you’d want me to do.”
I take in a deep breath and feel serenity settle in my heart. Being a hair away from death fills me with calmness I never knew could be possible.
I’ve done my part. I will continue to fight for what I’m owed and whatever happens, I’m okay with that.
The breeze rustles through the budding leaves on the trees, and I feel Khawf sitting beside me.
He doesn’t say anything, and neither do I.
After a few minutes, I get up and walk back into the hospital.
