“The boat will leave without you,” Am says.
I take one look at my life jacket before strapping it on, and then help Kenan adjust his. He presses his forehead against mine, his hand on the back of my neck.
“Have faith, my love,” he whispers.
I clasp his wrist, nodding. Kenan’s eyes fill up with tears as he casts them to Tartus’s mountains.
“We’re ready.” I turn to Am, sniffing loudly.
“The money and gold,” he says. I take them out and drop them in his hand.
He counts the money in a low voice, examines the necklace and ring, then tucks the money into his wallet and the gold in his pockets.
“All right, go.” He shoos us toward the boat.
“We just get on it?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He climbs into his car and starts the engine. “The captain of the ship saw me, and you’re not going back with me, so he knows you paid. Go!”
I try not to show how nervous I feel. This seems too… easy?
When we don’t move, Am sighs loudly and murmurs a prayer to God to give him patience. “Salama, trust me. I promise you on my daughter’s life this boat will take you to Europe. Go!”
If there’s anything I’ll trust coming from Am, it’s that he loves his daughter.
“Of course there wouldn’t have been a daughter to swear on if you’d let her die. God forbid they let you work again,” he mumbles, but I hear him. I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath.
I whirl around, marching right up to him. He pauses.
“I know I nearly destroyed your life with what I did,” I say. “But you demanded I bleed myself dry. You’re not a saint. And neither am I. But at least I feel remorse.”
I walk away, not wanting to hear his reply. After a second, the engine starts and he drives away.
“Let’s go,” I say to Kenan, Yusuf, and Lama. Kenan brushes a hand over his eyes, turning away from the mountains. Away from Layla’s grave. From Mama and Baba. From Hamza.
I take Lama’s hand and Kenan takes Yusuf’s. We wade through the waves that crash against our knees trying to push us back—warning us. But we don’t listen. We refuse to listen.
THE NEARER WE GET TO THE BOAT,THE MORE ITseems that people are spilling from its edges. The person in charge—the captain, I presume—greets us gruffly and helps Yusuf and Lama get on. The faces that greet us as we clumsily make our way onboard and try to find room to sit are starved, cold, empty. They huff in annoyance at more people crowding the already overfull boat.
We find a small, empty space and quickly sit down and lean against the boat’s side. My limbs sag with relief, my teeth chattering as I huddle closer to Kenan. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and hugs me closer. Our jeans and coats are wet up to our knees. Lama clings to Yusuf, her body shivering. Her own coat won’t dry anytime soon, so I take out a sweater and throw it to Yusuf, praying we don’t die from hypothermia.
“Put it around her. It’s not much, but it’ll do something.”
“Thank you,” Yusuf whispers.
The sky is gray, matching the sea, and if it wasn’t such a dire situation, I’d have enjoyed this weather. I wouldn’t be malnourished; instead I’d be covered in coats and scarves with a piping cup of tea in my hands.
My eyes wander to the other people traveling with us. There are more children than adults. My heart jolts when I spot a pregnant woman, and I look away before she catches me staring. Kenan groans quietly, and I for one sick moment am happy for the distraction.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, twisting to look at him.
“I’m fine.” He closes his eyes, breathing in deeply. I hope the concussion is letting go of its hold on him. “Can—can you give me Panadol?”
“Yes!” I quickly go through my bag and take out one tablet, pass it to him discreetly. He immediately pops it in his mouth, swallowing with no water. The exhaustion from moving the heavy debris after being kicked and beaten and not having enough sleep is catching up to him. Not to mention our wet clothes aren’t helping.
Kenan catches my worried expression and smiles, pulling me against him and our shivering lessens. “I’m fine. Don’t worry. Dr. Ziad checked me.” He gestures at his face, which is still swollen and bruised. “They’re just annoying bruises.”
“Do you feel nauseous? A headache?” I take out my phone and shine the light in his eyes. They react normally.
