“Okay that doesn’t even make sense,” his wife huffed. “Gremlins don’t become gremlins unless they are fed after midnight.” She splayed her hands. “I don’t see how…” Viviana’s voice trailed off as Aariz’s wife removed her veil. “Oh my God,” she breathed out.
Muhammad’s forehead wrinkled. “Do you know her?”
It was as if she couldn’t hear him. “You’re alive,” Viviana whispered. He could feel her body trembling even as her lips curved into a smile. “You’re alive!”
He watched in confusion as the two women threw themselves at each other, both of them hugging and crying. They talked animatedly in such rapid English that he could scarcely understand it. Glancing at Aariz, the other man’s shrug told him he wasn’t the only one having trouble following.
“What has happened?” Muhammad’s mother asked, coming to stand next to him. Praise be to Allah for her interference! At least this once. “Viviana? Who is this?”
Viviana released her hold on the mystery woman and swiped at her tears. “Jamila—I’m sorry—I…”
His mother quickly walked to wear Viviana stood. “Shh shh,” she said soothingly. “There is no need to apologize. Perhaps we should all sit down and talk?”
Viviana nodded. At last his wife glanced at him, smiling through her tears. He was too concerned to smile, but he realized she was a master at reading his gaze. She knew he was worried.
“I don’t know any more than you do,” Aariz said under his breath as they walked into the dining room. “My wife insisted on coming here after seeing you and the sheikha on YouTube and then again on Al-Jazeera. She said everything would be explained when we got here.”
“That’s good to know,” Muhammad muttered, “because my curiosity is killing me.”
“It’s the same for me.Wallah.”
It took another five minutes for everyone to be seated, then another few minutes more to get a coherent answer, but eventually Muhammad and Aariz were rewarded for their patience. They both listened to their wives’ stories as wide-eyed as his mother and sister were.
“It was Marisol who was in that closet with me,” Viviana said, shaking. “When they tore her out of the closet and stripped her naked, I just—oh my God.”
“Theywhat?” Aariz growled.
“It’s okay, babe,” Marisol said, smiling. “You of all people know I escaped.”
“I’ve been hating myself for three years,” Viviana gasped, tears streaming down her face. She grabbed Marisol’s hands and squeezed. “I should have done something or—”
“There was nothing you could have done, Vivi.Nothing.” Marisol’s expression broached no argument. “We were the last two survivors who hadn’t been taken. We had no weapons and they had an arsenal!”
“Oh my God,” Aaliyah whispered. “You have both lived through nightmares.”
Muhammad put a hand on his wife’s shoulder and gently squeezed. He had known she was the one who got away, but she had never detailed the events leading up to it for him. Realizing the subject to be a sensitive one for Viviana, he had never pressed the issue. Now his heart felt broken for her. He understood too well the horror it was to live with survivor’s guilt. Later, when they were alone, they would talk through this.
“Do you know what became of the other three pretty girls?” his mother asked.
Marisol shook her head. “I was hoping Vivi knew.” Her smile was sad. “Maybe now that Muhammad and Vivi are headline news the world over…” She sighed. “I pray they come here to Raqqah as I did. If they are alive and able to, I know they will.”
“Kendra has the best odds of survival,” Viviana said thoughtfully. “She was trained to be—”
“An efficient killer,” Marisol finished.
His wife nodded. “She was—is—an expert assassin. That information wouldn’t have been in the files General Qabbani got his hands on.” Viviana’s eyes sparkled. “I always wondered how they’d found her, much less taken her. Now I wonder if Kendra wasn’t just biding her time and calculating the odds of when and where to strike.”
“I hope you’re right,” Marisol sighed. “I really do.”
After another thirty minutes or so the reunited women switched to a happy topic. Muhammad was never so relieved to let a subject drop. Every word his wife had spoken while reliving the past had broken his heart for her all over again. But their beautiful daughter? He could discuss his little sheikha until the end of days.
“Naam,” Muhammad said to Aariz, smiling as he bounced her on his knee, “Darya is our first. How many do you and Marisol have?”
“Two. They are at home with my ummi.” Aariz did what all proud daddies do and pulled their photos from his wallet. “One daughter and one son.” He grinned. “My daughter has the temper of her mother. My son takes after me.”
“They’re gorgeous!” Viviana said, looking at the photos with Muhammad. “How did you two meet anyway?”
The couple looked at each other and shared a smile. “It’s a long story,” they said in unison.
