“I thought you’d be screaming and jumping up and down.”
She shakes her head lightly. “I know I’ve been excited for the day you fall in love but I never thought it would be like this.”
“Is it okay that I hate him a little because he wants to stay here?”
She lets out a small laugh. “Yes, it’s perfectly fine.”
I groan, rubbing at my wet eyelashes. “I know we’ll be apart in a month, but Layla, I don’t want to stop meeting him. I’m thinking… anything is better than nothing. I know it’ll hurt so much in Germany. I know I’ll spend days and nights praying he’s safe. I know that and still I can’t—don’t want to—stop.”
Layla stares at me for some time. “That’s okay too, Salama. I know what you mean. Anythingisbetter than nothing. I told you to find bits of happiness in Homs. Kenan is a happy moment.”
I swallow thickly.
A knock on our front door startles us and we exchange a glance. I stand, wrapping my hijab around my head before tiptoeing slowly to the door. Through the eyepiece, I see Kenan. He’s staring at the ground, hands in his pocket.
“Who is it?” Layla asks in a hushed voice.
“Kenan,” I mouth.
Her mouth drops with astonishment and she silently claps her hands, looking giddy. “Open the door,” she mouths back, miming the action.
I exhale deeply, commanding myself to stay calm and open the door, wearing—what I hope is—a casual smile that feels weird on my face.
“Kenan,” I say, and he looks up. “Hello.”
His expression is stunned but he recovers quickly. “You—um—I’m sorry to come over like this, but—you left the hospital pretty quickly and I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
I play with the hem of my sweater, feeling all warm at his concern. “Yes. I’m fine. It was—I’m fine, I promise.”
“I’m glad.”
He scratches the back of his head, and the movement presses his sweater against his body.
He steels himself, rocking on his heels, and he cracks his knuckles. “I was wondering if you’d go with me somewhere.”
Oh.
Oh!
Layla gasps from the living room and I try to remember how to breathe.
Kenan panics when he sees me staring at him dumbfounded. “If—it’s all right if you don’t want to.”
“No,” I say too quickly. I blush, hugging myself. “I—yes.”
He looks relieved, his chest expanding with air, and a smile lights up his face. It’s as if I’m gazing at the sun.
“Just a second.” I hurry to the living room, where Layla is still crouched on the sofa, her mouth dropped open, and she quickly takes my hands in hers.
“Oh my God,” she exclaims, shaking me. This feels like a hint of our old life seeping through the pain. It almost makes me dizzy with nostalgia.
Anxious thoughts take over. “Is this a bad idea? Will this hurt my heart? Should I pretend I’m suddenly sick?”
She laughs. “No, dummy. It’sstillhappiness. And you deserve to be happy.”
Samar sprawled on the hospital bed flashes in front of my eyes.
“You deserve it,” Layla repeats firmly. “Now go.”
