Road back to syira - own book

Chapter 1 I felt my heartbeat race while the plane touched ground. It was like a huge stone was resting on my chest, making it almost impossible for me to breathe. Rain was hitting the window next to me and with each drop I heard the pounding of my heart. Why had I agreed to this?

I knew why. I had no choice. I had to come. Whether I liked it or not. And not just that: I had to adjust. Live this life that was not mine and that was new to me. No even strange to me.

I remember the day my parents sat me down to have the conversation I knew we’d have, ever since the civil war broke out and I knew that this day would come. Honestly I had even expected it to be earlier. But the delay didn’t make any less painful.

“Sabeen, we need to talk”, my father said his face suddenly becoming emotionless. I swallowed but felt that the saliva got stuck in my throat. “Ok, daddy.” We sat down around our large dinner table. We rarely sat there to talk unless the talk was something very important. Like the time they sat me and my younger sister and brother down to tell us that our grandma had passed away a couple of years ago. This time it was only me sitting with my parents around the large wooden table. “Look, Sabeen”, my dad was the one who took the initiative.

My mum sat silently next to him, her eyes fixed on the table. I knew that she wouldn't look up so as not to break into tears. I knew she would leave most of the talking to my dad knowing he’d be stronger than her. But my father was struggling as much as she was. I saw him looking anywhere but straight to me.

He brushing his hair with his fingers. I knew that move. He’d do it whenever he tried to keep himself calm. After all I was his little girl.

It was painful seeing my parents like that. I wanted to make it easier fro them but I simply couldn't. My mouth wouldn't open. It was like my whole body was paralyzed. “ummm…”, my father paused. He took a deep breath. “This is not easy for us.

Well, I don’t think I need to explain to you the situation in our country.” Yes. he definitely didn’t. It all started on the 15th of March 2011. A date I will never

forget. The Syrian people went to the street in a civil uprising against President Bashar Al-Assad. It was just another rock starting to roll, kick started but what they have called the Arab Spring. We had just watched Tunis and Egypt go through with their own revolution and soon the Syrian people followed. But it didnt turn out to be anything like the Egyptian or even Tunisian revolution. Sure, both had a large number of casualties and some demolitions but we didn’t just have that.We had civil war.

It was in mid-july 2012 when the Red Cross announced it to be a civil war. By that time the fights had reached Damascus. You could hear gun shots all through the night. Explosions had become a normal part of our life. Every day we would sit infront of the Tv or radio listening to how many died that day. And every night I went to bed praying that tomorrow it wouldn't be my father, brother, cousin, sister or anyone I knew, but of course such a wish was unrealistic. Gradually with the aggravation of the fights, I heard the names of more and more people I knew.

The shop owner across the street, the boy I knew from kinder garden ..my teacher.

Schools closed for a long time. After a while I just stopped counting the days, weeks and even month.

So it was only a matter of time that my father would try to get us out of Syria to continue our education and get a better life. Get away from all this pain, sadness and blood. But it turned out not be as easy as I imagined.

My dad was a tradesman specializing in carpets and other textiles. He had his own export company inherited from his father. But unlike most of the young men, whose father owned a large company, my father had to work his way up from the bottom. He studied business and economics and got employed at my grandfathers company just like any other freshly graduated student. Gradually my father worked his way up until he took over the company. With the civil war all trade and most companies were completely paralyzed. And even worse, the situation made is nearly impossible to get access to any money reserve in the bank or elsewhere unless they were stowed in the house. Of course, my father, a very cautious person as he is, would never keep large sums in our house. So getting out of Syria became a lot harder than expected.

But actually that wasn't the only problem. We could have still left when it was still a civil uprising. Or even when the war was still at its starting point. But for my dad it wasn’t an option. He was so attached to his country that he would have never left and abandoned his family in such as situation. His patriotism kept him always optimistic convinced that the revolution would somehow be completed soon. That somehow Syria would pull through. But it didn’t.

And so we were sitting around our dinner table. “It is hard for all of us to leave now,” my father continued. “ Because of the money, the situation, ur grandparents what will we do with them….well for many reasons. And you are in your last year at school but with the situation we have, though the school started again, it is still very unreliable. So we managed to organize it for u to leave. We want you to go live with uncle Majd in London. He will get you there into a good school where u can graduate and continue straight away to get a good degree.”

When he finished I remained quite for a long time. I knew it was pointless to argue because they would send me either way. It was settled. And deep down I knew this was the rational thing to do. But how could I leave them. How can I be sitting in a classroom in England knowing that my family and friends back home are struggling to stay alive?

But I remained silent. I would not show my parents these anxieties and fears. I would not show them, how much I disliked leaving them for I knew how hard this step was for them. I knew I would cry later, when I was alone but not now.

Instead I looked down for a moment until I could recollect myself and then I finally managed to smile.

“I know daddy that this is the better option, but I just wanted to know when will I leave?”

My mother looked up suddenly shocked by my complete acceptance of the situation and my composure. I looked at my father. “He was a bit shaken by my reaction as well but he found his tongue quickly. “In one month, habiba”, he answered.

The month flew by in no time and there I was, looking out an airplane window while it was touching ground in the Heathrow airport. My father had told me uncle Majd would be waiting for me. Honestly, I didn’t really know him. I met

uncle Majd and his two daughters only a couple of times in my life. The last time I saw him was maybe 5 years ago. All I remember was that he was daddy’s childhood friend and that he had went to London after finishing university to complete his masters and had met his wife there, who was British and has been living in a suburb of London ever since.

As I was waiting in line to pass through the passport control I grew more anxious with ever passing minute. It wasn’t the fear of uncle Majd, or London or my new life there but it was the feeling that with every step I took further in that airport it was another step away from my parents and my friends. Another step away from my country.

Finally I passed the passport control and went quickly to get a trolley and head to the trail to pick up my two large suitcases. After about 20 minutes, which I spent reminiscing about the memories of how Syria used to look like I was finally done.

I took my trolley and headed straight towards the exit. A voice inside of me urged my body to stop and take a breath for a moment, but my legs wouldn’t obey. I had to keep moving. I had to be strong for all my family especially my parents. I needed to adjust here and build I life in this new country. My parents would not rest and relax until they knew that I have fitted in and started to build a new, organized and healthy life. So I needed to be strong. I needed to live this life. With a reassured mind I finally stepped out the door leading into the arrival hall, not knowing that this step would be the first step towards my biggest regret in life so far.

Chapter 2 I stepped into the arrival hall looking around for uncle Majd. I wasn't even sure if I remembered him right. An suddenly I found a man coming towards me with open arms. Yes that was definitely uncle Majd.He had unforgettable clear blue eyes and a unique hooknose, which in some odd way fitted perfectly in his face and even made him look more beautiful. Even with the first aging marks starting to spread over his face, he still was a very handsome man, tall and well built.

Unlce Majd took me in his arms. “Welcome to London”, he pushed me away holding me by my shoulders and looking at me intensely as if checking if all parts are still attached to my body. “Mashaallah you have grown so much since the last time I saw you. You have become a real woman and a very pretty one too.”

Instantly my mind jumped back to the memory of my dad and after a moment of relaxation after seeing uncle Majd so inviting, the sadness took over again. In the past 2 years more and more people would state that I was pretty, with my light brown wavy hair reaching down to my shoulders and my honey-green eyes. This statement never seemed to impress me and I didn't bother whether I was pretty or not. But whenever my father heard that statement I could see his eyes fill with pride and joy and that made me happy. But now he wasn't here to hear uncle Majd saying it.

It seemed that uncle Majd saw the sudden shift in my mood and quickly added: ”You seem exhausted. Lets get you home, habiba.They are all excited to see especially Margret.”Margret was uncle Majd’s wife. Daddy had told me their story once. They were both enrolled in the same masters program at Westminster University and apparently had hated each other at first until they were both sitting in the library one night studying and a rain storm broke out. Uncle Majd offered to walk her home and during their walk they discussed a variety of topics. They both found the discussion so enriching and enjoyable that they started to repeat those walks. Every day, whether it was raining or blending sunshine, uncle Majd would walk Margret home until they finally fell in love and soon after they both finished their masters, they got married.

10minutes later we had stowed all the luggage in their Mercedes new B1 trunk and were turning onto the highway heading to Sutton. The whole ride back uncle Majd kept bombarding me with questions about Syria, how everyone was doing over there, how life was and how bad the situation really was.

“Do you even leave the house?”, he asked.

“At first no, but by time the situation settled a bit or maybe we just got used to it that gradually some sort of life started to develop. It's a different kind of life but still. We never leave the house after sun down and dad doesn’t really go to work anymore. I mean there isn’t any real work. But I guess you get used to it.”, I added with a smile “And the number of casualties that are given are they true?”, uncle Majd quickly looked at me and than back at the road.

“Honestly, we don’t really know. I don’t think anyone really does. You get figures published by the government and and hear about numbers coming from the free army and both are bias so I don’t know.”

“Yeah you are right”, he added. “And your family? how is everyone doing?”

“They are fine hamdulillah. They are sending their greeting.”

“I wish they had come too” “Yeah. But its hard for all of us to move with the current situation.”

“Yeah I can imagine.”

I didn’t feel comfortable having this conversation. I kept intertwining my fingers.

It made sense for him to ask these questions, but why tell me he wished my parents were here too. Can’t he see how hard it already is for me. Of course he doesn't. How could he. He has been living in a totally different country for the past 20 years. He didn’t go through the experience of a civil war like we did. I shouldn't blame him for being insensitive. He is just worried and seeking knowledge and understanding of what is happening in his country.

We were finally turning onto lavender vale, where uncle Majd lived. “Look there is the house.” He was pointing at a small house with a beautiful front yard filled with colourful flowers typical to that time of the year and small pathway made up of large round stone tile situated at a small distance from one other just wide enough so that with each step you feet lands perfectly on the next one. Uncle Majd’s house was in a very nice neighborhood with large houses and beautiful gardens.

“Your school is just two street blocks away. You go down that street turn to the right then walk for about 10 – 15 minutes and you’ll find the school just to your left. But don’t worry. Sarah and Nadia attend the same school so you’ll just go with them.”, Unlce Majd explained while unloading the suitcases from the trunk.

“Welcome Sabeen.”, Auntie Margret had just come out the house. In 4 strides she had reached the car, where I was standing wait for uncle Majd to unload and had taken me in her arms. She hugged me for a long time as if trying to calm me down or give me emotional support. She was a very energetic woman and I had always loved her. She had always cared about Syria and had always tried to connect to uncle Majd’s friends and family there. The few times they had come to Syria she had always insisted in having us stay with them in England once and when we were younger my parents had taken her up on her offer once. But afterwards we would always travel somewhere else so we never got the chance to revisit them.

My dad was convinced that we needed to see as much of the world as we possible could. “It widens your knowledge and teaches you to see and accept other people and other cultures”, he would always say. And I always loved the countries we went to.

Finally Auntie Margret let go of me and in the corner of my eye I saw Sarah and Nadia in the doorway. Sarah was about 13 years old and Nadia was as old as I was. We would be at the in the same year at school.

“Come lets get you inside”, Aunti Margaret pronounced. She took me by the hand and we stepped into the house followed by uncle Majd carrying the suitcases.

The house had a large foyer with a small closet for the shoes, jackets and umbrellas. There was a small table with flowers in the middle with the stairs

curving their way up to the second floor just next to that table. on the right was a door leading to a very spacious living room with comfortable looking leather couch and chairs and a plasma TV. Across the hall there was a large modern kitchen with a small storage and laundry room next to it and a small breakfast table with an L-shaped seating. The kitchen and the living room were connected by a nice winter garden with a foteuille and a large eating area for about 8 people. Underneath the stairs you had a small bathroom for guest or just for us not to have to run up to the second floor just to use the bathroom. The second floor had uncle Majd and Sarah’s bedroom and two bathrooms with a circular hall in front of the room having another seating area. As soon as we had walked into the house auntie Margaret took me on a tour through the house and when we reached the third floor she pointed to a small wooden door with a big gesture.

“This will be your room”, she was smiling and looking at me with big eyes. “You want to see it? But don’t get disappointed it is not finished yet. It used to be our storage room and it all happened so fast so we didn’t get to renovate it in time.

But don’t worry it will only be a couple more weeks. Until then you can stay with Nadia . Her room is then one just across yours.”

She finally opened up the door to my room. Although it was only partially painted in a light yellowish tone and the floor tiles were missing, it was a beautiful room. It was just big enough with windows overlooking the front yard and the street. It also had a small niche at the windows where a couch would just fit perfectly.

“Its beautiful, thank you so much.”

“I’m so glad you like it. But don’t worry its stll not done it will be a lot nicer I promise. Come see Nadia’s room. You can put down your bag there if you want.”

Nadia’s room was larger than mine with a large wooden bed a small comfortable deep seating in the corner just across large windows overlooking the garden at the back of the house. The room had taken an orange tone with the setting sun shining its orange light into all corners of the room. Although the house was big and spacious it was very cozy. Auntie Margaret had added small decorations here and there and turned the house into a very homey place.

The house tour and auntie Margaret’s inviting way raised my spirits and I finally started to smile and I was laughing by the time we sat down around the dinner table. “So tell us about Syria”, Sarah suddenly asked. The sudden question came like a kick in my stomach.

“There is not much to say”, I answered and quickly stuffed another piece of chicken in my mouth.

“Its all over the news how can’t there be much to say. There is A Lot”, Sarah looked at me with raised eyebrows. Her look had something provocative in it.

“Sarah!!”, Nadia and auntie Margaret shouted in the same instance.

“She just wanted to know how it is over there cause the news is never really accurate you know.”, aunti Margret explained.

“Yeah, I know. Well there isn’t much to say. Its nothing like you ever imagined.

Some days you feel hope, other you are just confused an frightened. And you don’t really know who to trust anymore or which news to believe. Rumors are everywhere.’

“But do you hear gun shots and stuff?’, Sarah was gazing at me.

“Yeah sometimes I do. But its happens rarely.”I was lying. Gun shots were a normal part of my every day life. But I knew saying it would only make them look at me with these big sad eyes as if saying “oh you poor thing. This must be awful.”

It would make them feel the urge to comfort me and I didn’t want their comfort.

They don’t know what its like to go through a civil war, they will never understand my feelings. So in the end I ll just end up trying not to make them feel so sorry for me rather than actually get the emotional support. So I chose to keep most of the details about my life in Syria for the past 2 years to myself.

Nadia seemed to have understood my unwillingness to enter into a detailed discussion about my country.

“You know, our school year are really nice. I think you ll like the school. Are you excited to about going to school tomorrow?”, she asked trying to divert to a different topic and I was glad she did.

“Yes, very.” I lied again. But what should I’ve said. That I hated being here, while my parents were back there. No. I had taken a vow to myself to fit in and manage to live this new life. So yes, I was excited about my new school.

“Of course, it would have been nicer if you had managed to come a bit earlier so you would be able to settle in before being thrown into a new school. But I guess with the situation in Syria you just take what you get” “Yess it was all very short notice and there were a lot of things that needed yo be done before I leave.But its ok that way I don’t mind”.  That night while I was falling asleep I felt butterflies rising in my stomach for the first time. I let go of my memory and attachment to Syria for a moment and I was starting to look forward to the coming day. I would meet new people and make new friends. I wonder whether it would be extremely hard. Maybe I will kick it of with someone right from the start but what if they don’t accept me. Doesn’t matter either way it's a new experience. I smiled. We’ll see, tomorrow we will see.

The next morning I woke up sitting straight up. I listened waiting for the sound of gun fire. Waiting to hear my mum praying and weeping in the living room across the hall. Instead I heard the soothing sound of the birds welcoming the new day and the wind brushing through the trees. I wasn’t in Syria. I was sleeping safely in a warm bed in London.

I looked at my watch put on the small table next to the couch I was sleeping on in Nadia’s room. It was still early. I still had 45minutes before I had to wake to get ready for school. I looked over to Nadia sleeping in her bed. She was still sleeping peacefully. I was too wired up by my sudden memory of Syria that I couldn't go back to sleep again. I got up and decided to get ready for school right way, so that we wouldn't have trouble with the bathrooms if we all got up at the same time.

When went into the kitchen auntie Margaret was sitting at the kitchen table with a hot cup of coffee.

“Oh, good morning. You are up early. Excited or what?”, she smiled

“Yes.”, I smiled back not telling her that I actually woke up terrified remembering my mornings in Syria.

“You want coffee?”

“Yes please.”

“I was just about to get started with preparing breakfast. Wanna give me a hand?”

“Sure” After breakfast uncle Majd dropped all three of us at the school. Usually we would walk to school but today he offered to take us bearing in mind it was our first day at school and my first actual day in England.

The school was full of teenagers hugging and laughing and catching up with it each other after a long eventful day. Everybody was smiling and looking for their friends. I followed Nadia while she looked for her friends. She introduced me to a couple of them, Kim and Alley. They welcomed me to the schools and politely asked me about whether I liked it in England so far. I smiled and told them it was beautiful trying to be nice. But as soon as they started talking about their summer I turned away examining the school. The school was a modern concrete block at parts colorfully painted. Though the building looked cold and static the dynamic of the laughing students gave the place a cozy feel to it. While I was skimming the school, my eyes fell on a guy about my age standing with a group of guys at the side of the school front yard laughing and punching each other the way boys always do. He was not overly handsome but there was something very striking and attractive about him I couldn't make out. He had short brown hair falling him into the face, greenish brown almond eyes and his features had something very Arabic and Mediterranean about them. His body was well built and it was evident that he put great effort in keeping his body in shape. Suddenly he turned and looked straight to me. Our eyes met for a brief second but as soon as they met I quickly turned away embarrassed by him catching me looking at him. I made sure never to let my glance wander back to where he stood and

when the bell finally rand indicating the start of our first class I stiffly followed Nadia into the school building.

The first class was history and thankfully this was one of the few classes I took with Nadia. It was history. As I entered I was terrified that with my presence the teacher would take the Syrian civil war as a discussion topic. I sat down behind Nadia at the back of the classroom. Shortly after I sat down while getting my booklet and pencil out of my bag I was sitting up again my eyes fell on a figure walking into the room. It was the guy I had seen in the front yard before. As he walked through the room to reach his seat he made a brief halt at Nadia’s desk greeting her and her friend. During the brief moment he was standing at the desk right in front of me he gave me a quick glance and looked back to Nadia. Then he continued to take a seat in the third row to my right. I wanted to ask Nadia about the guy but before I could say anything the teacher walked in.

“Good morning everyone”, he announced while walking towards the front.

“Good morning.” the whole class murmured.

“I am Mr. Thomas. “ Mr. Thomas was a young man in his mid-thirties with short brown hair and a well-built figure. He gave the impression of being a friend more than an actual teacher.

“Most of you had me as a teacher before or at least know me from any activities outside the classroom. This year I’ll be giving you history but I will not simply revise with you past events but the current situations all over the world lead me to include discussions about current events into the curriculum as well.”

My heart started pounding. Hopefully he will not discover my Syrian decent. He will undoubtedly use me for his debate about Syria and I was not willing to discuss my life and memories of Syria with a group of complete strangers.

“Well. Lets start by having each one briefly introduce himself.”

A silent laugh went through the class and someone from them back murmured from the back: “We are not in a second grade anymore.”

“Yeah you sure aren’t in second grade but I’d still like to get the names of all of you. There are some new faces to me.” Mr. Thomas answered.

Each one started to give a brief intro of himself announcing the name and any other information of interest. Some just gave the names, others told about their others and another group talked about their Indian, Pakistani, Arab or other decent.

Then it was finally his turn. I glanced to where he was sitting but quickly looked away although I knew he wouldn’t be looking at me. But my shame about our little encounter in the morning and my unexplained attraction to him made me try and avoid any sort of eye contact between us.

“So Karim, tell us about yourself.” Mr. Thomas looked at hi with raised eyebrows and a teasing look.

Karim?! He had an Arabic name. Yes his features were not European but rather Mediterranean but I wouldn’t have guessed that he was an Arab.

“What’s there to say Mr. Thomas. Apparently you already know everything.”

Karim teases back.

“Well I’m pretty sure not everyone in the classroom knows everything about you.” It was very evident that this wasn't the first year for Mr. Thomas to be teaching him and even more, it was obvious they had developed a bond over the years exceeding the professional student – teacher relationship.

“For example I’m pretty sure the young girl over there doesn’t even know your name.” Mr. Thomas pointed in my direction. For a second my heart stopped beating. Did he mean me? Was he pointing at me?

He was because suddenly all eyes were directed towards me. Karim turned around and as soon as he saw me he smiled. He had his upper body turned towards me fore I was sitting two rows behind him to his left, with his arm resting relaxed on the back of his chair.

When he started talking he looked straight into my eyes and only looked back to Mr. Thomas the second he was done with telling me about himself.

“Hi, my name is Karim Youssef” He pronounced the name in a perfect Arabic dialect. “I’m 18 years old and like to do sport especially football as cliché as that might sound.” The whole class laughed. I smiled at his way of presenting things.

“My mum is half British half Palestinian and my dad is Egyptian. By I was born here an have always lived in England.” He smiled at me then turned towards Mr. Thomas. “Did I forget anything?”

I took a deep breath and realized only now that all through the small speech Karim had given, I had stopped breathing. And now that he had finished and turned away again I was finally able to take normal breath again. All through his speech my brain kept wondering about how beautiful and unique his eye colour was. No stop. I would not let myself get affected by some stupid good-looking guy in my class. I wasn’t some love struck teenager I was a young woman coming from a background far worse with problems far bigger than some silly teenage crush. I needed to get a grip of myself. I needed to come back to reality. I focused my vision on the teacher and the board.

“So who are you?” Mr. Thomas was looking at me.

My mouth felt dry. I swallowed trying to wet my throat but it was useless. I took a deep breath feeling all eyes fixed on me. Usually I didn't have problems with talking in front of people or feeling them watching me but in his case I do. I knew the moment I started talking about myself and where I came from the looks would become less curious and more pitiful.

“My name is Sabeen Mehrez.”

After a moment of silence Mr. Thomas finally realized that this was the end of my speech. “Hello Sabeen.” He smiled at me.

I directed my vision towards him. I will not look to the right. I will not look to the right, I kept repeating to myself.

“So Sabeen, you are new here?” Mr. Thomas continued.

‘Yes.” “And where did you move from?”

“Syria.”

It seemed as if a silent breath was inhaled by the whole class the moment I mentioned Syria. Mr. Thomas looked perplexed.

“Syria?! Wow that's amazing. So we have a reliable source when we discuss the Syria topic.” He gave me another large smile, showing his perfect white teeth. He really did not look like a teacher.

“So would you like to share some information about Syria and situation over there with us?”

I hesitated. My hearth started racing and my breath came in short intervals.

Mr. Thomas seemed to see my hesitation. “Or we can just…”

“No. yeah sure.”

“Oh…well then come on up.”

I felt my legs becoming numb as I walked to the front of the classroom.

“So…tell us. How is the situation and life in Syria?”

“Well…Its hard. The fights are ongoing. Life becomes insecure. You don’t know what will happen tomorrow.”

“Did any of your friends die?” one of the guys, who was standing with Karim in the front yard in the morning asked. From the corner of my eye I saw Karim giving him a kick in the leg.

I cleared my throat. “Of course every now and then you might hear a name you know. But no, none of the people I know or are close to me died. Its not that bad.”

I smiled. Once again I wasn’t being completely honest.

“The problem lies in the sounds of gunfire or the explosions lighting up the sky.

But with time you start to get used to it in some way. And life goes on. I still went to school and left my house and stuff. Life isn’t that different actually now that the fighting in Damascus for example has settled a bit. “

Once again a lie.

“Well, we will talk about this in more detail when we come to the Syria topic” Mr. Thomas took over. “Thank you, Sabeen. Please get seated again. Lets get on with the names to go on and discuss the syllabus for this semester.”

I went back to my seat focusing on not looking to anyone sitting around me. The rest of the day went by smoothly and I didn’t bump into Karim again. After the first day was finally behind me, Nadia and I walked home. Nadia seemed to understand my situation most.

“So how did u like it?”

“It was nice.”

“You know I found you very brave today when you got up in history to talk about Syria. I’m not sure I’d be able to do that if I was in your position.” She smiled at me and I did the same.  In the evening as the sun was starting to set, we were all gathered around the dinner table I found my cell phone ringing. The day before uncle Majd gave me a British sim card he had bought for me before I arrived. I looked at the cell phone screen. It was a Syrian number. I picked up the phone feeling a sudden excitement rising inside of me. Although I had been texting my parents and sister ever since I arrived but we haven't gotten the chance to talk on the phone with all the hassle of me settling in and my day at school.

“Salamoulaikum”, I answered the phone while leaving the dining room.

When I heard my father’s voice I felt my heart melt. My eyes started to burn. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed them in the 36 hours since I left Syria.

“W allaikum el Salam habiba.” my father answered. “Oh its so good to hear your voice.”

“You too daddy. I’ve missed you all so much.”

“Us too. how are you? how is England?”

“Its nice. But cold and cloudy.”

“Hahaha…yess that's typical English weather my love.”

Oh how good it felt to hear him laugh. I knew then that as tough as it might have been for him to let me go live in England, it was a burden taken off his back. At least he felt safe for one of his children.

“Tell me how is everything back home? How is mum and gameela and fares? Are you all ok?”

“Yes we are fine don’t worry about us my dear. We are fine. Tell us about yourself how was the school? did you like?”

So typical for my father. He would never worry me with their problems especially if he saw me trying to build a life away from the pain of Syria.

“Yes it was very nice. I truly enjoyed it.”, I sounded far more enthusiastic than I actually was. “And the people there are very nice.” That actually wasn't a lie at all I thought to myself. Suddenly my phone gave a beeping sound. I looked at the screen and found a message indicating that I only had 50cents of credit left on my phone. How was that even possible?

“Dad, my credit is almost done, so I’ll run to the supermarket and buy new credit an call you right back ok?”

“Sure habiba.”

“Just give me 15min. I’ll call right back. Bye.” I shouted into the phone.

I ran to a small supermarket at the corner to my street I had saw on my way back home from school. I pushed the door open to the shop grasping for air from the short sprint I took from the house to the store and almost rammed a person standing behind the door.

“I’m very sorry.”, I apologized. As the person turned around to face me I felt my heart stop.

‘Hey. I know you. You are in my history class right?”

It was Karim. I was so confused by finding him suddenly in front of me that it ook me a while to realize that he was talking to me.

“Umm..yeah I think so. Maybe.” I answered “Maybe?! Hahaha.” He had a warm soothing laugh that just made you smile.

“Well you seem in a hurry so why don’t you go ahead and come in front of me in line” His pure greenish eyes were shimmering in the dull light of the setting sun.

“No its fine you were here first.”

“Oh no its no problem. Either way I still can’t decide, which deodrant to buy.” he winked at me.

“Well. thanks.” I moved up in front of him in line.

“Can I charge up for 20 pounds please.” I asked the man standing behind the cashier.

“Which service provider are you?”

“Vodafone please.”

“So you like it here?” I hear Karim asking from behind.

“Its nice yes.”

“Did Nadia give you a tour of the town?”

“No not yet.”

“What a shame. Ask her to do that. It's a really nice and cozy town. You’ll love it.

She should show you the whole place especially the football courts.”

He smiled at me and I saw a small gleam in his eyes.

“Oh, I’m Karim by the way.” He stretched out his hand.

“Sabeen.” I shook his hand. It was a frim yet gentle handshake. His hands were warm and very soft, which to me was unusual for a guy.

“Sabeen?!”, It seemed as if his was trying out the name and testing it on his lips.

“Its such a unique name. I like it.”

“Thank you.”

The cashier was finally done and gave me back the receipt and the charge up coupon for 20pounds. I took it quickly and started to head towards the door instantly. While passing by Karim I quickly looked at him. “Was nice meeting you.” I gave him a slight smile hoping he wouldn't hear my heart pounding against my chest and then quickly turned towards the door.

“You too Sabeen.” He answered “And I’ll be seeing more of you insha’allah.” I heard him shout after me while I stepped outside the shop.

Chapter 3 I opened my eyes suddenly tense, waking up from a shallow sleep. I thought I heard a sniffing sound but nothing. The room was quite. I looked at the clock on my phone display. It was 1.16. As I was just falling asleep again I heard it again.

This time the sound was louder. I started to listen into the dark night. There it was again. It came from the other side of the wall, where Nadia’s room was located.

I slowly crawled out of bed quickly throwing a large sweatshirt on my short pjs.

It was freezing. I tiptoed out f my bedroom and into the hall connecting my and Nadia’s bedroom. I had just moved into my bedroom 2 nights ago after it was finally completed. The room was dominated by a large fluffy bed, which must have been expensive, a small desk on the wall across the bed and a deep fauteuil at an angle next to the desk. Now that I was standing in the small hall I heard the sniffing sound even louder. Nadia was definitely crying. But why? I hadn’t noticed that she was upset during dinner. She was quite as usual. Nadia was a more quite person by nature. It wasn’t the boring, shy kind of quite but she simply had this subtle down to earth kind of silent way with people. Unlike Sarah she wasn’t the kind of person always making jokes, talking loudly and grabbing attention wherever she sat. No, Nadia would be the quite one in any group of people, participating passionately in topics she was really interested in rather than talking in whatever topic is discussed. Nevertheless, she was a very kind person and up to a lot of fun, whenever and wherever. I preferred these types of people to the loud, center of attention kind of ones, which was why Nadia and I had bonded and become friends very quickly after my arrival at London. So I felt a sting in my heart when I heard her crying.

Should I go in and talk to her? But it wasn't really my place. But at the same time she was very helpful ever since I came introducing me to her friends and always suggesting I should go out with them while I was the one refusing. I gave myself a push and slowly opened the doors to her room.

Nadia was lying rolled up in her bed sheets crying into her pillow. I felt this weight suddenly resting on my heart. My stomach started to twist and turn. She looked so sad and hurt.

“Nadia?”, I whispered The sniffing suddenly stopped.

“Nadia are you ok?”

“I’m fine.” I heard her say through the pillow.

I sat down next to her on the bed and slowly started stroking her hair.

“What happened?”

I continued to try and calm her mechanically moving my hand up and down her head. The sniffing had started again the second I asked the question.

“Shhhh. Its ok. Its ok.” I tried to calm her Gradually the crying sound started to fade away until she finally heaved herself up a little so as to turn her head to me. I saw her eyes red from all the crying and tears still rolling down her cheek. It felt as if someone was wringing my heart.

“It will be ok sweetie.”

“He left me. He just left!!”

She threw herself into the pillow again, crying her heart out. Soon as I arrived I had found out that Nadia had a boyfriend called Phil. Though he was with us at school I had only sat down with him a couple of times. He seemed like a nice guy.

“Its ok. Its ok. Its not the end of the world.”

I started stroking her back gently until she recollected herself again.

“What did he say? I just saw you guys yesterday together you seemed fine.”

Nadia slowly sat up. Her eyes were narrow from all the crying. She must have been crying at least for an hour.

“Well not really. I mean he has been distancing himself for a while now but still I didn’t think it was that bad.” Her eyes started to fill with tears again.

“Its ok. Then what happened?”

“I don’t know. He texted me today telling me that he needed to talk to me. So after dinner we went to the park. And then….And then…” She broke off suddenly breaking into strong sobs again.

“Shhhhh. Shhhh” I took her in my arms and Nadia started shaking from tears. We remained like that for a time that seemed endless. Suddenly she pulled her self out of my hug, wiped away her tears and continued: “He said that he has been feeling distant from me for a while now and he was feeling that something was wrong and he didn't know what. So he started distancing himself from me trying to figure out what is bothering him and finally he has figured it out.” I saw her fighting as not to break into tears again but she managed to keep herself collected.

“Then he started apologizing, saying I’m so sorry for what I’m about to say and please know that it hurts me to have to do this but I don’t love you anymore. I don’t know when and how this happened but along the way something in me changed. Please don’t get me wrong it wasn’t your fault it really wasn’t but I just don’t feel the same way anymore.” Typical. Such a typical sentence. “It is not your fault”. It is probably the most common break up sentence and I truly believe that people are convinced of it when they say it but I don’t think it is true. It is simply a way to try and make the other person feel better and overshadow you own guilt.

“I have to say he was very decent he kept apologizing for having to do this to me and he kept telling me how I was a very good person and how he really appreciated my personality.”

“That's good. At least he was honest and decent about the whole matter.”

“Yeah I guess.”

Nadia was staring into the distance. Her body gradually relaxed. She looked back at me looking much more composed now.

“Thank you, Sabeen for being there for me. I really needed someone to talk to.”

“Of course I would. I just don’t want you to take it so hard on yourself and I know this sounds so cliché but I want you to know that no matter what happens you will get through this and you are strong enough for that.”

Nadia smiled. She leaned back resting her head on the pillow next to me. I remained there sitting silently next to Nadia until she finally felt into a deep sleep. When I returned to my bed I remained awake for a long time. I started to think about Nadia and how at a point in my life situations and problems like these had been a normal part of my life and how suddenly everything had shifted. The previous evening I was sitting with uncle Majd and auntie Margret watching the news. Though Syria was mentioned briefly as is the case with every evening news, the other topics revolved around new tax policies, the royal baby and other regulations. I watched Auntie Margret get enraged these changes and she and uncle Majd would go on discussing these matters for hours as if it was their biggest worry in the world. Meanwhile I was sitting next to them listening to them raging and I would think of how miles away people were getting murdered or blown up while over here their biggest care lay in some tax problems or the last stupid act pulled by a royal prince.  As I was lying in my bed thinking of how different their life here is from that in Syria and how little people are aware of the luxury they have worrying about small matters and forgetting just the fortune of feeling safe. I couldn't get any sleep so I did what I’ve been doing the past few weeks. I took my laptop out and started loading the usual sites trying to see what new has happened in Syria.

Ever since I arrived my parents would never give me a complete report of the events happening in Syria. They would make sure to ask about my life here and my daily life and well-being but whenever I would ask about Syria both my parents would just give me the necessary information. “Well nothing new dear. It is just as u had left it and we are all well so don’t worry.”

Even my sister whenever I talked to her would give just a brief account of the situation as if my parents had agreed with her on trying to keep as distant from the events in Syria as possible. So I finally stopped asking and started to research it on my own. Whenever I had a free minute to spare I would open my laptop and start reading the news. By now I was aware of each new little detail of what is happening in Syria as soon as it was uploaded to the internet. Finally, I fell into a deep restless sleep.  The next day after school I was waiting for Nadia in the school front yard while she was standing at the side with her friends. She was probably updating them on the latest events between her and Phil.

“Hey. Haven’t seen you in a while.” Karim was flashing his teeth right in front of me. Well I was kind of trying to avoid you, almost slipped my mouth.

“I’ve just been busy.” I smiled.

“Haha. Don’t worry about it. How are you?”

“I’m good thank you. Excuse me I have to leave. Nadia is waiting for me.” I gave Karim a brief smile and tried to quickly slip away from beside him.

“Wait.” Karim grabbed my arm. “I need your help with something.” I looked at him perplexed. “I have this research paper due and it is supposed to be about Syria and sure I found a lot of stuff online but it’s not the same as getting information from someone who experienced it first hand.”

“Ummm, yeah sure” “Perfect! We can meet today over coffee or something what do you say?”

“Yes ok. That’s fine by me.”

“Okay there is this mall café just two blocks away from here what do you say we can meet at the corner of your street today at 6 and walk there.”

“Okay.” Karim gave me a big smile flashing his white teeth at me and then left.

As I walked over to where Nadia was standing waiting for me I was trying to get all the thoughts running around in my head straight. Though I have been trying to suppress this feeling for weeks now ever since I had met Karim but a voice inside of me kept shouting:”You are going out”. I couldn't help but feel butterflies rising in stomach. No no, we are not I am just helping him with schoolwork. But the butterflies would still not go away.  At exactly 15 to 5 I was ready and standing at the front door although I knew it would only take me 3 minutes to reach my street corner. I had told auntie Margret that I had to meet someone for a school project at a café just 2 blocks away and she didn’t ask further. I stayed almost 10 minutes sitting on the stairs waiting for the clock to reach 5 to 5. There was no way I would be there early.

When the time finally came I got up and look another quick glance at myself in the mirror. I had chosen a nice outfit. Sabeen get yourself together. You are going to help him and talk to him about a serious topic not go and have fun. With that thought in mind I stepped out.

I saw Karim waiting at the corner from far away. When I finally reached him he looked at me and smiled.

“Wow. You look so different outside the usual school uniform.So lets go.” We walked together to the café. All the way to the place I was trying to maintain the thoughts I had when I left the house but in vain. It was like Karim would cause this feeling of comfort and relaxation to spread through my body that shut out all my doubts. As soon as we sat down we both ordered a cup of cappuccino.

“Would you lake a carrot cake or something with the coffee?” Karim asked.

“No no I’m fine thank you.”

“Maybe later”, Karim told the waiter.

“So, tell me a bit about yourself. All I know is that you are Syrian and have come to live here right?”

“Yeah right.”

“You have any sisters and brothers?”

“Yeah I actually have a younger sister and a younger brother. What about you?”

“I have an older sister. So I kinda know how your brother feels.” He smiled “What is that supposed to mean?” I looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a provocative smile.

“Well, older sisters have the tendency to become very motherly and controlling.”

“Oh is that so?!”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Karim smiled teasingly.

“Then I guess you are the poor spoiled little one?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call myself spoiled. No umm even when you are the younger one being the only boy in the family you kind of take responsibility over you sister. I’m sure your brother is the same way.”

“Oh yess. He always reminds me how he is the man of the house whenever my father isn’t around although he is 7 years younger than me. “ “Hahahaha yeah I’m sure he does. But you know I often feel like this idea of the man of the house and how boys feel a responsibility over their sisters is something more common in our culture. Like when you talk to the people over here, guys don’t really feel that way, although for us it is common sense for the boy to be that way. you know what I mean?”

“Yess, I have realized that very quickly. And you know you are half Palestinian right. When I watch the news over here I get shocked of how they make this huge deal out of things which for me seem like nothing. I mean in our part f the world we have to deal with far worst problems. Even before the revolution. They talk about healthcare and student loans while in Gaza people loose their homes and rebuild them after Israeli attacks as if it is the most normal this most normal thing in the world. And even if you lived in other countries of the middle east like Syria before, we lived in fear and absolute dictatorship. We wouldn’t have the

luxury of making a fuss about a health care system. I dunno, its very irritating how our lives can be so different.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean. My mum always says the same thing. But you know living here, you have to start not letting go completely of your background but try and put it in the back of your head. Or else you will keep feeling frustrated of the differences rather than manage to live with them.”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh bugger. I managed to make you loose that beautiful but rare smile.”

“Hahahaha. Your bugger kills me.”

“Yeah, I know. It is very British.”

We continued to talk about anything but his research paper. And Karim managed to keep me smiling and before I knew it I was slowly telling him more personal stuff and letting in him into my life talking about my family back home and my childhood and friends and the stupid stuff I used to do as a kid.

“Oh god. I had promised auntie Margret I would be home by 7.30.” I suddenly remembered after looking at my watch. It was almost 8.00.

“Oh well. Then lets get the check.”

“But we haven’t even talked about your project.”

“Oh don’t worry about it we can meet another time. What about Thursday because I have football training tomorrow and after tomorrow.”

“Yeah sure. Thursday is fine by me.” I smiled. I felt my heart race. Another meeting. We would go out another time. Just the thought of it made the butterflies rise again. I felt my whole stomach turn upside down. Karim smiled a bright smile and I saw how his front teeth were actually slightly apart with a small gap in between them that made him all the more attractive to me.

That night when I finally went to bed the feeling of guilt suddenly returned. But it hit me so hard that it kept me awake for hours. I kept tossing around in my bed not able to find any sleep. How was I able to open up this way? How could I forget my family and country and just act as if I was like them? As if love was my biggest concern? It wasn't. I had a family back home who is in constant danger.

My country was burning down and I could see no end to it. What if Syria never became the Syria I knew. Sure, we didn't live in a democracy and we didn’t have the most just of governments but we had a stable life and a beautiful country.

Frustration started to roll back into my heart and brain. I spent the night thinking of all possible scenarios of how the situation in Syria wouldn’t get resolved and how we would continue our lives. Each one was worse than the one before. My thought took me to my family. I wondered how they were doing. Why they were shutting me out. Is it possible that it happened again? Is it possible they relived that day again. No, I would not think of that. I will not remember that day. Quickly I went back to imagining all these scenarios for the future of Syria trying to push away the memory that had started to take shape in my head, until I finally fell into a deep uneasy sleep at around four a clock in the morning.

The following Thursday when I met Karim at the same café, I went feeling a stone resting on my heart. Instead of the relaxation I had felt the last time, my body was tense with anxiety. Karim was sitting at a table in the café waiting for me.

When I stepped in I saw his teeth flash.

“Hey. How are you?” Karim asked as soon as I sat down.

“Fine.”

“How was your week?”

“It was good. So what did you want to know about Syria for your paper?”

Karim seemed shocked by the sudden change in my ways but collected himself quickly.

“Well, its nothing big actually. Just tell me how life changed ever since the civil war.”

“Actually, I don’t call it a civil war. None of my family and friends do.”

“Really?”

“Yes. We consider it a war between two parties because us as the people we are not part of it.”

“What do you mean? You are not with the Free Army?”

“No, I’m not.”

Karim seemed confused. I took a deep breath before I was able to continue.

“Yes sure we were all part of the revolt. The prospect of getting out of the dictatorship was a breath of fresh air for all of us. Before the revolt, no one would even dare to mention Bashar Al Asad in a taxi. So when the revolt came we were all happy and wishing for a better life. Then matters got worse. The problem today is that we don’t know who that Free Army tuely is. I mean Bashar Al Asad we know and we predict his actions. We know where we stand with him yes it is a dictatorship but at least I know my country is in Syrian hands. The Free Army by today has become an unknown source. It has been influenced by all sorts of groups from outside Syria like Hisbollah and so on. You get what I mean?”

“Yeah. I think I do. But I never knew it was this way.”

“Well. Now you know. And….” I took another deep breath. Was I really supposed to tell him all that? Does he really understand? But I’m not telling him any details or personal things just the general idea. “You know recently the Free Army announced that they have the right for something they call “Al Nekah”.”

“Al Nekah??”, Karim’s face had turned white. “Are you serious? They really said that?”

“You know what it is?” I looked at him with big eyes. I didn’t expect him to understand what it was.

“Yeah of course. Isn’t that when the men get the right to sexually use any woman since they are fighting and therefore not home with their wives?!”

“Yes pretty much.”

“And they announced their right to do that?”

“Yes or at least these are the news circulating between the people in Syria. Even IF you assume it is just a rumor, the fear of it being true is enough to make the life of any girl and woman a living hell. Fathers and brothers get over protected. which is understandable. Any girl walking on the street doesn’t matter if someone is with her because she would never walk alone, becomes paranoid and in constant fear.”

“But how was your life? I mean what are some of the experiences you had?”

“Mine?” I suddenly lost focus. I knew this question was coming, but nevertheless I was unprepared when he asked it. My thoughts shifted away from the general ideas I was giving Karim. Suddenly a flood of memories overcame me. Pictures started to flash in front of my eyes. I saw myself holding my younger brother Fares in my arms trying to sooth him. I hear his cries through the ear piercing sounds of gunfire and explosions. I felt his whole body shake with every shake of our house. I knew the house would collapse in itself any second but still tried unsuccessfully to give Fares some feeling of safety.

I heard the voice of my mother shouting for my sister to know we are all fine.

Through the open door I saw my father try to make his way to our rooms to be with us and calm us down. Mariam, my sister was rolled together under her bed just as Fares and I were under mine. The terror and fear that was painted on her face is an image I will never forget.

My memories started to take me deeper in. As if I was falling into a deep black hole I couldn't get out from. But even these images were better than the ones from that day. That day…

“Sabeen? Sabeen?”

The worried voice of Karim brought me back. I looked around suddenly irritated.

Karim’s hand was resting on mine.

“Sabeen are you ok?” His face was tense and his greenish eyes were looking at me softly.

“Yeah I’m fine. But I just remembered I have to meet uncle Majd, Nadia’s father today for….ummm..for…He was supposed to show me something. We were gonna go shopping for stuff for my room. “ “Now?” Karim was frowning.

“Yes. I completely forgot. You know we can just continue do this another time or so. Bye.” “But..Sabeen…”

Within seconds I had gotten up from the table and was walking in long strides away from the café. My whole brain was twirling. I felt I was loosing balance and unfocused. No I wouldn't cry. I was stronger than that. Finally, I reached the park and sank down on the first bank I found. The park was just 5minutes away from our house but I wasn’t able to go home now. Not like that.

I kept breathing slowly and deeply trying to order my thoughts. I quickly started to think of other things like how beautiful the flowers in front of me are or concentrate on the old man walking his dog. It was such a cute dog. I wonder if they have been together for a long time. Suddenly another piece of memory flashed in front of me. No, no I won’t think about it. It is fascinating how the old man is willing to pick up his dog’s poo off the floor. I would never do that it was too disgusting. Another picture. No. I kept fighting the images and trying to divert my thought into any other direction until I was finally able to collect myself and calm down.

I started to think of Karim. How I had suddenly left him. How confused and worried he had looked when I stood up to leave. I hadn’t even paid my cappuccino. A smile suddenly made its way onto my face. Poor guy. I would have to apologize to him for that. But not tomorrow. I wasn’t ready for that tomorrow. 

As I stepped into the house I heard auntie Margret shout: “Sarah please start packing your stuff we don’t want to be late tomorrow. Oh hello Sabeen. How was the study session?”

“It went well.”

“Oh good.”

“Auntie Margret?”

“Yes dear.”

“Why is Sarah packing?”

“Oh you don't remember darling. Last Monday during dinner we told you girls that we are going to my parents house in the South of England its about a 2 hour drive from here to spend the weekend with them.”

It suddenly dawned at me that I had heard this before. I had completely forgotten. In the evening after dinner uncle Majd was watching TV in the living room.

“Uncle Majd?” I entered into the room.

“Yes, Habiba” I took a deep breath. I felt my hand shaking.

“I wanted to ask you something. I have a lot of things to do this weekend for school and some of them require me to be here so is it ok if I stay here this weekend?”

Auntie Margret entered in that moment. “But are you sure you’ll be comfortable staying here all alone?” She looked at me with worried eyes.

“Yes. It is absolutely fine for me. I can manage all alone….Really.” I added when I saw her look.

“Well, if you are sure you can handle it I don’t mind.” Uncle Majd added.

“And if there is anything. Absolutly anything, just go to any of our neighbors they all know you and they can help you straight away.” Auntie Margret added.

“I will, don’t worry. Thank you.”  The next day I made sure to arrive at school right at the time our first class started and left right afterwards without even waiting for Nadia to walk home together. I was eager not to bump into Karim and since we didn’t have any classes together that day I only had to refrain from meeting him in the school front yard before or after school. When I got home, auntie Margret and uncle Majd were busy getting the car ready. Auntie Margret was so kind as to make me a small dinner since they were going to eat on the road. When the girls arrived they left and were sure to make me promise that I would call or go to the neighbors if anything should happen.

That afternoon as I was watching TV I found my phone ringing. It was my father calling to check up on me as he did every day.

“Hi daddy.” For the first time since yesterday’s event I felt my body relax with hearing my dad’s familiar voice.

“Salamualleikum habiba. How are you?” I heard him say through the phone.

I instantly realized a small difference in his tone.

“I’m good daddy. How are you guys? Did something happen?”

“Uncle Majd told me you wanted to stay in London alone this weekend.”

“Yes. I had a lot of things to do.” Of course, this was just an excuse I knew. In reality, I wasn't able to spend a week showing I’m great and being nice to auntie Margret’s parents while I was so worked up from the inside. I just wanted to be alone.

“Are you sure you will be fine on your own?” I heard my father’s worried voice through the phone.

“Yes daddy I will be I promise. Don’t worry about me.”

“Yeah I know. I know you are my tough little girl.” No there was something definitely wrong and I could hear it in his voice clearly. And it wasn’t him being worried about me. If he didn’t want me to stay alone he would have dealt with this completely differently. I knew well enough to distinguish that.

“Daddy, what happened?”

“Nothing my love. Tell me how is school?”

“Daddy, school is the same. That is not important. I know there is something wrong so please tell me what is it?” I was starting to get angry. Why does he keep things from me. Why doesn't he want to share the events with me? Does he think I’m to fragile that I wouldn't handle them? But I would. He knows I would. Or he just doesn’t want to burden me with all these things so that I would be able to fit in here and live the life they have over here? Either way it was starting to really bother me.

“Habiba, its nothing. Just the same old things. Unrest and everybody worried. The normal scene you know.’’

“Did something happened to any of you?” I felt my heart race when I asked the question.

“No, no don't worry. So didn’t you have a biology paper due?”

“Yes its due next week.”

I wasn't satisfied with his answer. It didn't convince me at all but whenever I tried to get back to finding out what happened my dad would give a short unhelpful answer and divert away again. When the phone call finally ended I sat silent for a long time.

What has happened? Was it that bad that my father was afraid of worrying me while was all alone? Maybe my biggest fear had happened? That day happened again. No even worse. Maybe this time when it happened it was even worse. No, no it can’t be. Suddenly I felt a tear roll down my cheek. For the first time since I had arrived here I was crying. Before I knew it tears were running uncontrollably down my cheeks and dropping of my chin and I let myself be. For the first time in

such a long time I allowed myself to cry. And the tears were plenty. Suddenly my phone rang. It was an unknown number. I almost didn’t answer but than it crossed my mind that it might be uncle Majd calling from auntie Margret’s parent’s house to make sure I’m ok and if I don’t answer he’ll just get worried. So I quickly picked up.

“Hello.” I tried to calm down my voice.

“Hi Sabeen. It’s Karim. I took your number from Nadia at school today. I just wanted to make sure you are ok after what happened yesterday since I didn’t see you at school today.”

“I’m fine thank you.” I managed to say in between the sobs.

“Sabeen are you alright?”

Before I knew it I was crying again. As much as I tried to control and calm myself it was useless. The tears continued to come. I felt my heart being squeezed with ever sob. The images of Syria kept flashing in front of my eyes.

“Sabeen?? Are you ok? Wait I’ll be right over.”

I wasn’t even concentrating on what Karim was saying. All I was thinking about was that day. It was replaying in my mind without stopping. But each time it played my mind added a new worse event to the story making me cry even more.

So when the door bell rang it caught me completely by surprise. I looked through the small windows framing the entrance door. It was Karim. I really didn’t feel like opening up the door and was just about to walk away when I heard him shout: “Sabeen, I know you are in there. I saw you behind the glass. Please open up.

Please.”

That was the moment I did the stupid thing of actually opening up the door and thereby opening up the way into a completely new life. It was the start of a new path that would soon change me.

Karim followed me into the living room. My eyes were red and swollen from all the crying. My nose had grown about 2 cm from all sides and was running continuously. I must have looked to terrible for Karim because he suddenly took me into his arms. The sudden warmth and care that came from another human body felt good. I started crying again. But now I didn’t feel all alone. I felt that someone was hearing my tears, which for a while made me cry even stronger but I could soon recollect myself.

“What is wrong? Can you please tell me?”

Karim looked at me with the most caring eyes I have and will ever see and before I knew it, I was letting everything out. Everything but that day. It was too painful to talk about that day. We went into the living room and he sat me next to him on the couch.

“So what happened?”

“Its…its…”

“Sabeen, its ok. Its not like I’m gonna tell anyone I just don’t want to see you like that. If you don’t want to talk I can just stay here until you relax.” He added when I didn’t start talking. He remained there sitting next to me on the couch, as I continued crying. Finally I was ready to talk.

“Its my parents. They refuse to tell me what is happening over there. Its like they completely avoid the topic. I know something is wrong. I know it!!! But why??? I just don’t get it. Why wouldn’t they tell me. I can handle it. Its not like they are protecting me in that way. No it's the opposite. This way I feel something is wrong and I see that they don’t want to tell me, so I start thinking and worrying about it even more. Why can’t they see that.” Karim just sat there silently letting me get everything out.

“And you know what the problem is. There are tons of things that can happen to them. Every day whenever I get a free minute I sit there with my laptop try to find out anything, trying to figure out what might have happened they didn’t tell me about. You don’t understand.” I took a deep breath. my tears started to roll

down my cheeks with higher frequency than before. I started sobbing as the images flashed in front of me.

“You just don’t understand. You can’t imagine how its like.” I finally managed to let out in between my tears. “Its nothing you could imagine. You don’t know what it is like to wake up to the gunshots being fired all around you. You don’t know what it is like to spend days in darkness, without any form of electricity or water just the piercing sounds of people screaming and explosions all around you.” My voice was cut off by the sobs shaking my whole body. When I was finally able to control myself a little bit in continued.

“You keep tossing and turning in your bed every night covering your ears and your head so that you wouldn’t hear. So that you wouldn’t be bothered by the sky lighting up because somewhere close by a bomb just exploded or a rocket hit an object. You keep praying and praying that the next one won’t hit your own house, your own family.”

“What do you tell your 7 year old brother. How do you explain to him while he can’t go on the streets anymore or else he will be killed? And then comes the day when you need to get to the nearest grocery store or what is left of it to get supply that would get you through the week. You leave the house and as you walk through the streets you see dead and injured people lying everywhere. As much as you feel bad for them, you thank god it wasn't you. But deep down you know, you know that tomorrow it could be you. Tomorrow you can get a phone call telling you that your aunt has passed away or your neighbor or your best friend. It has become such a normal part of our lived it painful. You live your life in fear. Not for yourself. No I wish that was it. No you fear for the people around you, your family and friends, the people you care about. So right now a bomb could explode next to my house and my family…..” The cries overwhelming me made me unable to speak. My eyes were filled with tears so that I couldn't even see a hand right in front of my face. Karim suddenly wrapped his arms around me trying to sooth me.

“Shhhhhh. No. No that won’t happen inshaallah. It won’t so don’t even think about.”

He stayed there holding me in his arms until the sobs had almost stopped.

“You have no idea how long it took me to manage to finally fall a sleep when I came here.” I whispered. “The sudden silent that was surrounding me was so unnatural that I spent weeks tossing around in my bed not able to find any sleep.

There were no gun shots, or explosions or my sister crying in her bed or my mum singing to Fares, my little brother trying to distract him from the other sounds surrounding him. We would spend days not knowing when the next major attack would be or when finally the light could come back. And then I come and find that their biggest worries over here is what to name the new royal baby or what new reform to implement.” I sighed, leaned my head against Karim’s shoulder and closed my eyes.

“You know.” Karim’s sudden voice irritated me. Though he was sitting right next to me I had actually forgotten he was there. He had let me talk and scream and shout and let everything out without even saying one word. He was not capable of understanding or relating to anything I was saying and he didn’t even know me that well but he had stayed. He had sat there listening to me cry my heart out and hugged me when I needed it without even understanding my situation fully. I suddenly admired him more than before.

I sat up and looked at him. Karim was looking straight into my eyes.

“You are right, “ he started again, “I don’t and probably never will truly understand what you have been through and I won’t try to pretend I do cause I don’t. But there is one thing I can imagine. Your parents send you here for a reason. They didn’t just do it for the hell of it. They were trying to push you away from that sadness and pain. They tried to give you the opportunity to overcome all of that and start a new life. Yes they might not give you all the information but don’t you trust that if something important happens they will tell you?”

“Yes.” “Then everything else is just holding you back and they don’t want that for you.

That is why they sent you away. They gave you the chance to overcome it but you just don’t want to give yourself that exact same chance. You keep yourself locked

away from everything and everyone. You didn’t try to go out with us or get close to any of the people you met over here. You chose to spend that time surfing the internet about any information you can find about Syria although your own parents wouldn't tell you to avoid exactly that from happening.”

I looked at him completely perplexed by what he was saying. How dare he say that, he didn't even know me? He didn't know me at all? My eyes started to narrow.

“Don’t get me wrong. Now that you have kind of given me a better picture of your life I can imagine why you chose that. And honestly I think I would have done the same. But I also think that your parents maybe don’t want you to do that. They want you to show your true self. The nice, feisty, charming and completely kind hearted girl I got a glimpse off a couple of times.” He smiled at me. Deep down I knew he wasn’t completely wrong. I knew that this was what my parents wanted.

They had made it clear to me more than once. But what was I supposed to do?

Just forget about them?

“And how do you suggest I do that? I mean so what you are basically saying is that I should adapt and live my life here go out and have fun as if everything is ok while I know my parents are living in danger?” I threw back at him.

“Noo. No, no, no. I didn’t say that. No not at all.”

I felt my shoulders relax a bit.

“All I meant is that maybe you should give yourself some room to include some parts of your new life here. That maybe should try and go out some times and instead of sitting at your laptop I dunno maybe 6 times a day reduce it to 2 and spend the other 4 doing something different or new. Something nice.”

He smiled. “Like going out with me.”

I broke out into laughter. It was the first time I had truly laughed in weeks.

Infatuated by my laugh, Karim was quickly laughing with me. “But seriously.” He collected himself again. “I really do enjoy spending time with you and we don’t

have to just talk about silly stuff we can discuss actual matters and problems in the world.”

“Oh really, like what?” I looked at him provocatively.

“Well you know I did not grow up in a war zone but my mum is Palestinian and through her and her family I have learned what it meant to live as a victim and fight for everything in your life.”

As he started telling me about the experiences of his mother I started to wonder about how I had managed to open up to him in that way. How as much as I disliked admitting it, he did have a valid argument about my parents and my attitude. But most importantly how it didn't bother me that he has suddenly got insight into my heart or managed to understand me better than I could have ever imagined.

The next morning I woke up and smiled as I looked at the ceiling. I was remembering how we had talked for hours about all sorts of things. How he had gradually told me more and more about himself and the more I got to know him the more I felt impressed by his view of things and his attitude in life. I remembered how we had talked until I was too exhausted and had just fallen asleep. But most importantly, I was smiling because this was the first night in such a long time I had managed to sleep deeply and completely relaxed. I rolled over in my bed still have asleep and suddenly I was wide-awake. Within seconds I had sat up in my bed. Next to me lay a person. I looked closer only to discover that it was Karim.

Chapter 4 One moment I was still lying under my sheets and the other I had jumped out of bed. How did that happen? Why was Karim lying next to me in my own bed? I was so confused. Slowly I was replaying last night in my head. I remembered how I opened up my heart to him and how we kept on talking till late. Last thing I remembered was how I was completely exhausted and how I fell asleep. But how did I get into the bedroom. Suddenly I remembered. Yes. I had asked Karim to go upstairs and continue our talk in the bedroom because I was exhausted.

I took a step back, shocked about myself. How did I do that? How did I allow that?

In that moment Karim woke up and looked at my shocked face.

“Good morning. What’s wrong Sabeen?”

“Ummm. Nothing. I’m fine.”

“No. Whats wrong? You look shocked.”

“I’m just confused.”

“Why? Because I’m still here? Did that bother you?”

“Nooo. yess. I don’t know. No I just don’t understand how you got here. In my bed I mean.”

“Well. You were exhausted and wanted us to continue our talk in your bed so that you would rest and while I was telling you something you just fell asleep. I was afraid to leave you alone after the way you were yesterday so I decided to sleep over. And since I didn’t want to sleep in any of the other rooms because it somehow didn’t seem right, I just stayed here.”

“But what will the neighbors say when they see you leave?”

Suddenly, Karim broke into loud laughter. “Don’t worry about them. Here it is different. They don’t really bother about that. Whatever you choose to do or don’t do is none of their business. Sure if you ask for their help they’ll be there but other than that they will always keep that stuff to themselves. So don’t worry.

And remember what we had talked about yesterday? How you should start to adjust to this culture? This is normal over here!”

I was speechless. It was shocking to me how I had completely managed to open up to that person. I had been hiding and locked away ever since I arrived and now I felt that Karim was closer to me than I would have imagined anyone over here to be. And even more it felt like he understood me. Isn’t that what my parents wanted me to do? Aren’t I now starting to adapt here and build my life?

So maybe Karim was right. Yes I remember that conversation we had yesterday and now I started believing in what he said even more. Yes my parents didn’t want me to stay attached to the background so why am I fighting so hard to stay so attached. And this was feeling good. Suddenly I realized that though I was shocked when I woke up to find Karim, it had also made me feel good. I felt butterflies filling my stomach knowing someone was there for me. And after he had explained his reasons for staying and his worries about me the butterflies only grew more. Before I knew it I was climbing into the bed next to him.

“Thank you. Thank you for yesterday. And thank you for being there for me.”

Karim smiled. “You are welcome cutie.” Suddenly he leaned forward and gave me a soft kiss on my cheek. “I’ll go do us some breakfast.” Karim said and slipped away from under the bed sheets and out of the room. I stayed wrapped under the bed sheets for a while smiling silently until I finally got up and got dressed and then I took my laptop. I sat on the couch and was just about to start loading the usual pages to see what new has happened in Syria when Karim walked in. In his hands he was holding a tray and the smell of hot bread and eggs filled the room.

“I see you found your way around the kitchen” I smiled at him.

“Yes, more or less. What are you doing?” He put down the tray on the commode next to my bed.

“I was just checking the news about Syria.”

“Whyy?? What did we agree on? I mean I have a question: Your parents refuse to tell you all the details about what is happening in Syria then why do you go and research it every minute. I mean didn’t you do the exact same thing yesterday

night. What happened in the past 10 hours” He looked at his watch. “Nothing. Or at least nothing that you can’t know about tonight or even tomorrow. And if it were that urgent your parents will surely tell you about it. They just don’t tell you the rest cause it is nothing new or urgent so they don’t want to keep your mind occupied with Syria rather than letting yourself enjoy the life you have now, or am I saying something wrong?”

Once again he was making perfect sense. I hated how he was suddenly able not just to let me open up and see right through me but that he was even convincing me. But it was nice and refreshing having someone telling you a different point, someone who understood you without an effort. I smiled at him gently.

“Yeah you are right. I can check it later.”

“Excatly. So lets eat.”  After we had breakfast, Karim stayed around for a while. We continued talking about all sorts of things but then it was time for him to head home. Before he left he looked at me and flashed his beautiful smile: “You know I might go out with some friends tonight. We’ll probably just hang out in Thomas’ backyard. You know Thomas, right? Anyway either way you can just come. We often make a small bonfire its usually very nice. So what you say, wanna come?”

“Ummm, I dunno. Yeah I guess I can come. I’ll see.”

“So you’ll come. I can pick you up and then we’ll just go together.” He looked at me and I saw his greenish eyes light up. I could simply loose myself looking into these eyes.

“Ok.” Before I could change my mind again Karim quickly added:” Perfect!! I’ll pick u up at 7.” He then leaned forward, gave me a softly wet kiss on my cheek and left the house. I stood there for a while feeling the wetness of his kiss on my cheek. It felt good and for the first time in a long time I actually felt happy. The whole day I was like a raving sunshine hopping around the house and twirling from one room to the other.

When the clock finally struck 5 I got up to get dressed knowing that usually it would take me no more than 45minutes -bif I take my time - to get ready to leave but I wanted to take my time. But more importantly I wanted to look stunning.  After almost and hour of trying on all my cloth, I finally found something to wear.

I went for jeans with a nice beige pullover that was split at the back from bottom to almost the middle of my upper back and brown leather boots that reached up to my knees. I put on some make-up, which instantly accentuated my eyes. Then I went on to do something I hadn’t done in such a long time. I slowly reached to my hair and gently pulled out the hair tie that was holding my hair in a high ponytail. Instantly my hair fell down gently and in long curls around my face and to my shoulders. I looked so different. Ever since the revolt had started in Syria I had stopped leaving my hair untied. It was always braided, as a ponytail or simply as a large bun on my head. In Syria I had done it to keep the focus away from me on the street and try to stay out of sight in some way and ever since I came to England it felt like a way to keep the attention away from me. Now that I had it down, I looked almost strange.

Suddenly the doorbell pulled me back to reality. I quickly grabbed my bag and headed downstairs. As I opened the door I found Karim’s face expression change from a genuine smile to deep astonishment. It made me blush.

“Wow. You look amazing.”

I felt my cheeks burn up.

“Thank you.”

“You know. You should really let down your hair more often.”

I smiled.

When we finally got to Thomas’ house I hesitated. Sure I had met all these people at school but had never really talked to them, let alone go out with them. Even worse, it was the first time for me to go out in England. Sure, we went out a lot in

Syria before the revolt but I can’t imagine it would be the same as here. It was a completely different culture, so I didn’t know what to expect.

Karim felt my hesitation and suddenly I found him taking my hand into his and we stepped into the garden through a wooden side door next to the house. I heard a mix of voices coming from the backyard and laughter filled the atmosphere. I hadn’t been to such a careless outing in a long time. They all started shouting and blurring, greeting Karim as soon as he entered. But as they saw me entering with him they became silent, astonished by my presence with them. Even as Karim shook hands with many of them and hugged the girls present his hand remained intertwined into mine. I was relieved feeling his sweaty palms in mine. It gave me a sense of security as I entered into this completely strange circle to me. It didn’t take long and most of the guys had gotten over my presence but the girls kept eyeing me with confusion and a touch of disparagement still puzzled by my sudden appearance with Karim. Kate, a girl I knew from Biology and History class and had talked to several times before came and sat down next to me.

“Hi, I didn’t expect you to be here.” My cheeks turned slightly red.

“Yeah. I know…”

“No, no it’s nice that you came.” She quickly added when she saw my ashamed face. “Its always different when you meet people outside school. They are always more relaxed and fun.”

“Yeah, you know you look SOO different now.” I heard Thanes shout from the other side. Thanes was actually called Jonathan and he was one of the guys I had seen standing with Karim in the school front yard that first day. He was also with me in history class and was a clown. He would always throw jokes and act stupid but I always felt that he was actually a very kind hearted person. He would always open the door for me or pick up stuff from the floor and sometimes I’d see him at the corner of our street helping out a small boy trying to skateboard or play with a girl pushing her doll in a trolley along the sidewalk, and I’d always think he is actually a pretty decent guy with a big act.

“Thank you.” I answered. “You actually don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Well, baby, I’m always charming.”

“Ummm, not so sure bout that but for the sake of this lovely gathering I’ll agree.”

The whole group broke out into loud laughter to my response.

“Oh, you turned out to be feisty. Hey, Karim, I think she’ll be to tough for you, man.”

I laughed.

“We’ll see bout that.” Karim shouted back.

And then I heard him whisper: “But you might actually be too beautiful for me.”

I felt my heart race. It was like he opened up this container of emotions inside of me yesterday that I couldn't manage to close up again and that just kept flooding and flooding my whole body.

“I wanted to ask you something?” Kate interrupted my thoughts. I turned around to face her.

“How do you braid your hair?Like two days ago you had done this braid and it looked amazing and I kept thinking to myself how did she do it?”

I gave a small laugh. “It’s actually very easy. You know I can show it to you some time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Soon we were engaged in a lively conversation about hair styling and my apparent talent in braiding hair. It felt so weird but refreshing to have conversations about the most usual and unnecessary things in life like hair braiding or how one’s feet always smelled after sports. It felt so unnatural to my brain to have to process such information in contrast to the heavy things and problems I usually bombarded my brain with. Topics like post-war traumas, the

future of Syria or my family’s well-being. But all through the night whenever there’d be a time where I was kept alone not part of a certain game or conversation, my mind would drift away wondering what might have happened today, whether my family had maybe left the house. But as soon as I felt it drifting away I would push my worries back and focus on enjoying myself and being part of the evening. Sometimes Karim would notice my sudden daydreaming and would gently and without anyone noticing put his hand on top of mine so as to tell me it’s fine to let go of Syria for a while.  After about an hour of hair styling talks and about 10 bottles of beer the bonfire was finally rising up on high flames in front of us. It looked magical.

“We have Marshmallows” Someone shouted and within no time each one had grabbed a marshmallow and a long stick from underneath a couple of trees in the garden corner and was grilling his marshmallow over the fire. As I was waiting for mine to starting turning brown and caught up in a conversation with Kate I quickly turned towards Karim and suddenly I felt my whole body stiffen. It felt like someone had slapped me in the face.

“Sabeen, Sabeen. your marshmallow is burning take it out.” Kate pulled me out of my sudden shock. Karim looked towards us and quickly pulled my stick out of the fire.

“Oh damn, its not even eatable but you know sometimes I love it extra burned, but no this is even too much for me.” He smiled at me but I remained incapable of reacting. My eyes were fixed onto the bottle in his hand. He was holding a beer bottle. Though it wasn’t completely strange to me to have boys in our culture drink, it is something that wasn’t completely uncommon in Syria. And though it wasn’t normal to have alcohol in a normal outing in the garden, even in Syria there were outings in specific places offering alcohol. I actually had been to one or two birthdays in such places. And it was even less shocking to find it in a boy living in a European country, where alcohol and beer was the most common thing in the world but nevertheless it struck me seeing Karim sipping from a beer bottle.

“What’s wrong? Is everything ok?” His face expression was completely bewildered and confused.

When I noticed how shocked I must looked I quickly tried to compose myself again. I didn’t want him to understand what was going through my head. At least not yet. I wanted to process it first and then confront him. But right now I had been thrown too off balance to react instantly. I quickly tried to re-collect myself and gave a wary smile.

“Yeah sure. I just felt this sudden pain in my arm but its gone now.” I smiled more steadily now.

For the rest of the evening I kept my mask on talked readily with everyone, smiled and laughed but simply tried to avoid any contact or conversation with Karim. On the inside my mind was working on a much to high speed trying to get my thoughts together and getting a grip on my emotions. On our way home Karim kept talking on and on about how they had all liked me and how different I was tonight, while I remained completely silent. When we finally reached the front porch he grabbed me by the arm.

“What’s wrong? Why are you suddenly so silent?”

I could have said I’m fine just tired or any other excuse but I was ready now to let it out and I would not wait to do that.

“You drink?!”

Karim was shocked and irritated by my sudden statement.

“Yeah I do. Its not like I get drunk and stuff like you saw the guys today but yeah I take a couple of beers. Is that so shocking to you?”

“Seriously?! You are asking if that is shocking to me? Well sorry if I didn’t see that one coming.”

“Well…I don’t know I’m sorry if that came as a surprise to you but I thought you’d have figured it out.”

“How? How was I supposed to have figured it out? Yeah sure back in Syria several youth drank as well but it wasn’t done openly and it wasn’t culturally accepted. So yeah I understand that I’m in a European or Western country and that this is the norm over here but that doesn’t mean its apso fact that someone from the same culture I am from will do it.”

Suddenly Karim’s tense face relaxed and he smiled. He sat down on the front porch step and pulled me down next to him.

“Ok. I’ll tell you something. I’m not entirely sure if you’ll understand this but I hope you will. First of all, you are right it is not something you should have figured out on your own, its not the most normal thing in the world. But you need to understand something. Yes, my background is a culture similar to yours but nevertheless I grew up here. Alcohol has been a regular part of our life and our outings for a minimum of 3 years now if not longer. At first sure I tried to be the strong dude, hanging on to my principles and stuff. But at a point the pressure around you, the nagging, the laughing at you and making fun of you becomes a lot more than any 16 year old can bare. Yeah I drink now. That doesn’t mean I completely gave up my principles or my culture, it just means I have decided to put in the background for while trying to somehow balance both sides of my world and my personality. I don’t always drink and I never drink too much. I didn’t completely disregard my principles and dived into the new world but I didn’t also hide in a shell and decide that I’ll live in my own world away from the surrounding I actually live in. So yes I do drink and its my way to try and balance my life at this age. I know later at a point in time I’ll put my principles in the foreground again and balance it differently but for now I’m balancing this way cuz it's the only way I know how.”

I remained silent for a long time, letting Karim’s word’s seep in, chewing them in my brain and trying to comprehend them. He was right. I really didn’t know how his life was and how he would deal with it. Nadia dealt with it in much the same way, I suddenly remembered. She had told me once that she tried alcohol before maybe she did just like him. Taking one or two beers every now and then.

“Yeah. I guess you have a point. And I guess I just didn’t see it at first because for me all of this is kind of strange.”

“And I should have told you before not just surprised you. But you were just so beautiful tonight, it made me forget everything I wanted to say.”

Again that flood of emotions sprawling out of the container inside of me. I felt all the blood rush to my cheeks. I hated how I blushed so easily. Suddenly Karim leaned forward towards me and before I knew it I felt his lips on mine. They pushed gently against mine. I closed my eyes and kissed him back. When he pulled back I felt his wet lips still resting on mine. I opened my eyes and found him staring right at me. I felt every part of my body slowly turning numb. The amount of emotions bursting through my body that moment, were too many for my body and mind to work simultaneously. So my body parts, legs and arms simply decided to shut down. My heart was racing so hard I felt it must stop any minute from over exhaustion.

“U sure you want to stay alone tonight? I can sleep over.”

My brain was still struggling to function properly. “Umm” Suddenly the idea of being all alone in a big house with nothing but my memories and images of Syria I knew would haunt me at night, didn’t seem very appealing. And he can simply sleep on the couch.

“Yeah . I think I’ll prefer not being alone tonight.”  Karim spent the night next to me and we kept talking about all sorts of topics. He was telling me about his plans for the future, what he wanted to study and which university he wanted to attend. I suddenly realized that I hadn't given this topic any thought in a while. It once again irritated me how Karim had suddenly and without warning managed to enter into my head and get me to open up to him but I felt comfortable around him.

The following weeks it became a ritual for me to go out with Karim and Nadia and the same group I had met that weekend. We either hund out in Thomas’ back

yard, went to the park and once we went to Cathy another member of the group.

Once Karim, Nadia, Kate, Thanes and Michael, another of Karim’s close friends, and me went paint balling at this arena about an hour away from our little suburb village. Gradually it became easier and easier for me to push away the memories of Syria rising from a deep whole embedded in my mind, The sudden attacks and painful images of my past started to come less frequently, after all karim and my new found friends were keeping me busy.

During one of our outings as we were all gathered together in Thane’s back yard, Kate sat down next to me. She seemed at unease. “Can I ask you something?” she finally managed to say.

“Sure what is it?”

“Why did you never try alcohol? I mean Nadia and Karim did, so apparently its not as bad or what?”

“Well…” I didn’t really know how to express myself. I didn’t want to make them look bad but at the same time what was I supposed to say. Even worse. Being the only one never included made me always feel like an outsider. Sure, they were all very nice to me and I had developed a friendship with several of them but it still was different.

“Yeah I’ve thought about the same thing.” I found Jessica, who was sitting to our left add. “Why don’t you try it?”

“What is it?” Peter jumped in from the back. “You mean alcohol.”

I saw Karim suddenly turn his attention towards me.

“Yeah. We were wondering why Sabeen never drinks any alcohol while Nadia and Karim do.”

Karim was eyeing my warily as if trying to figure out how I was feeling about the matter.

“Either way its none of our business. Its weird and everything but still.” Peter answered.

“I know but what is wrong with a small sip. It won’t do anything wouldn't it. I mean like Karim never gets drunk cuz he thinks that is wrong but one beer or so is no big deal for him.” Jessica replied.

As I was watching them debate my reasons for drinking I started to let the arguments seep in. It has been itching me for a while to feel fitting in. After all didn’t what Karim was doing somehow make sense? He never got drunk so the fear of doing something stupid out of not being completely conscious. And on a side note, how did my parents expect me to become part of this life at this age without trying to fit in with the other teenagers. And maybe just trying it, giving them the impression of being more open or more like them will let them include me more. Before I knew it I was saying: “I do want to try it.” What had I just said? Did I actually mean that? Yes of course, ever since I was more involved into the teenage life, the curiosity of trying out beer. And yes, that is just another attempt to fit in, to become part of that new life, isn’t it?

“What?” Kate looked at me baffled.

“Woohooo.” Peter was celebrating it “Wait. I’ll get you a beer.”

“No. I just wanna try it that's all, not a whole body.”

“Are you sure?” Kate was looking at me with big eyes.

“Yeah.” I answered caught up in the moment.

“You can take a sip from mine if you want.” Jessica stepped in. I felt Karim’s eyes rest on me.

I took the bottle from Jessica and took a strong sip from the bottle. It was tartly and as opposed to my expectation not sweet at all. Though the wheat it was made from was very evident in the taste, it felt too artificial. My whole stomach started twirling.

“Hahahahahaha. Your face expression.” Peter was laughing hard in the back. “You must have hated it.”

“It tastes awful.” I felt like throwing up. There was nothing enjoyable for me in that taste.

“We should have given her wine or something not beer.” Jessica added.

“Yeah I guess you are right.” Peter laughed.

I looked to my right and Nadia’s eyes and mine met. I couldn't figure out whether she was disappointed or knowing what she had expected happen. As Nadia and I were going to leave, I found Karim standing up with us.

“Hey, I thought I’d walk you home.”

“Oh ok sure.”

“You know what I’ll stay for a little while longer and go back with Katie. She is leaving in like 10 minutes anyway.” Nadia said.

“You sure?”

“Yes, yes Sabeen you guys go ahead.”

As soon as we were walking on the street Karim looked at me. I had been waiting for him to start talking ever since he stood up to walk me home.

“Sooo?? How did it feel?”

“How did what feel?”

“Come on Sabeen. You know what I mean.”

“Well…it was awful.”

I looked at him and though his face remained unmoved I saw a small twitching in his mouth that was never completed into a full smile.

“Why did you do it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve thought of it for a while. Its not like I’ll do it again but I just wanted to try it. And it somehow felt that if I do try it just once I’ll fit in more. It felt nice to somehow fit in.”

“I just don’t want you to do something out of feeling you have to.”

“No...I wanted to.”

“Okay.” Karim intertwined his hand in mine.  When I got home I noticed my parents had called me. It wasn’t too late for me to call back so I did.

“Salamualeikum Habiba. How are you?”

“Hi dad. I miss you.”

“We miss you too my love. So what is going on? I haven’t really heard from you in a while. You keep calling less and less for a while now. Your mum is starting to get worried.”

“No, no I’ve just been busy.”

“Okay just don’t forget your family back here.” He said it in a teasing tone but still the sentence hit into my heart like a knife.

“I wont daddy.” I whispered.

“I know you wont’ baby I was just teasing you. So tell me how is school?”

“It’s great. I’m doing well. I think I have coped with it more or less. How is everything over there? Any news?”

“The usual honey it isn't getting any better but hamdulillah we are all fine.”  That night as I was laying in bed I found the memories finally catching up with me. My father’s sentence had hurt. I remembered what I had done earlier that night and slowly the guilt started crawling up my body. Was it right what I had done? A voice inside my head kept repeating: You tried to fit in, that's all. But part of me wasn’t completely satisfied with that answer. Though it seemed convincing when I was sitting with them, it started to seem less valid. I kept

tossing around the bed trying to relax my head but soon my guilt started to take me back to Syria. How did I not ask more often about my family? What if something happened and I just wasn’t present enough to ask? What if that night happened again?

That night. It was the worst night of my life. I remember how the shooting had been ongoing for days no weeks. The sound of shotguns had become so normal.

The worst part were the explosions. Seeing the sky light up into rainbow colours and not knowing when the next will hit. However that night was the night the explosions and gunshots felt like nothing. I had just been able to fall asleep in between the fire and screams I heard coming from the street, when I suddenly jumped out of my sleep startled by the sound of warplanes passing from above our house followed by a whistling tone and a crashing sound. I saw explosions starting to light up all around the house. The whole house started shaking. I felt the roof would fall on us any minute. Fares, who was sleeping next to me ever since the fights had irrupted in my country woke up. I heard Mariam scream from her bed on the other side of the room.

Fares grabbed my shirt as if trying to hold on to safety. “Kids are you ok?” I heard my dad shout from the other side of the hallway. “Yeah we are fine dad.” Another explosion shook the house. “Go under the beds now. Mum and I are coming over.”

I jumped out of the bed and pulled Fares with me. Within minutes we were both wrapped into one another under the bed. I looked over at Mariam. She was under the bed as well. Another whistle, explosion and a shake. This one was so close the bed shifted from their places from the impact. I heard Mariam cry. I wanted to get up and go to her, hold her but I couldn't even get up let alone walk over to her. “Kids, don't worry. It will be fine.” I heard my dad shout. “Mummy and Daddy are here nothing will happen we will come over now. Just keep talking to us.” My mum screamed over. I held Fares even tighter. I wanted to cry and run over to my parents but I couldn't. Instead I kept whipping Fares back and forth trying to sooth him. Give him the safety I didn’t feel. After all he was only 7.

“Sabeen.” Fares voice seemed calm. “Sabeen.”

“What is it habiby?”

“Don’t worry Sabeen. It is going to be ok because if we die we will go to heaven you know. So we ll be fine.”

That I felt my heart stop. To see my 7 year old brother look death in the eye with such calmness and acceptance broke every piece in side of me. I felt the tears fill my eyes. How could such a young boy accept his fate so readily, while I was struggling to keep it together. That moment I realized it wasn’t him who needed the soothing it was me.

“Yeah. Yeah you are right habiby. Inshaallah we will go to heaven.”

Another impact and the whole building started shaking stronger than ever. I was sure the roof would fall on our heads any time. Mariam started screaming. I heard damped screams coming from my parents room. “Maysa, take care” I suddenly heard my father shout. Moments later a big band coming from my parents bedroom interrupted the sounds of explosions filling the air.

“Mummy!!”, I heard Fares shout. I quickly held him tighter. I didn’t even want to think of what might have happened.

Mariam started crying harder. “Mariam, Mariam, please stop crying. Its gonna be fine.” Another bang from my parents room. I heard my mother scream and then I saw my mother crawling out the bedroom. She ran her hands covering her head into our room. “Kids are you ok?” She slipped under my bed. “We are fine mummy. Don’t worry about us.” Fares told her. “Mummy everything will be alright you kno.” My mum smiled.

“I know it’ll be. I know you are my tough little man.”

“Mummy go check o Mariam please.”

“I am honey don’t worry.” She gave us a quick kiss and crawled over to Mariam.

“Mum,where is dad?”

“He is coming over now. Don’t worry about him.”

Her voice was overshadowed by the ear-blowing sound of an explosion. It felt like it was just under our house. The whole building started shaking and rattling.

Mariam was screaming. A bang but this time it didn’t come from the bedroom but from the living room. Suddenly I heard a piercing scream. It seemed like a male voice. The hallway outside our bedroom was filled with dust. Finally I saw through the clouds of dust my father crawling out of his bedroom. He was limping. Another piercing scream filled the air. It wasn’t my father. Suddenly it dawned on me. Bassam was sleeping over in the guest room just next to the living. Bassam was my 3 years older cousin, who lived with my aunt and his 3 brothers in a town just 2 hours away from ours. He had come over a couple of days ago and was staying in our guest room. Another scream came from the living room. I was sure now it was Bassam.

My father started crawling towards the living room as pieces of paint fell of our ceiling turning now even my bedroom into a big cloud of dust. My father had gone out of sight. I started to breathe in and breath out slowly trying to control and calm myself. Fares seemed so composed in contrast to me it was irritating.

Gradually I heard the sounds of aircrafts and explosion move away from our district. The shaking stopped. I could still hear the bangs but they were as close anymore. I saw my mum crawl out from under the bed and race in the direction of the living room. Within seconds I had jumped out. I kneeled down to Fares.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” I whispered to him before I ran to the living room.

As soon as I entered the room I stopped in shock from the scene I saw in front of me. The whole room was filled with pieces of the ceiling that had fallen down during the explosions. Some of them had fallen down on our furniture cutting the fabric. One of the windows was broke. The glass was covering the whole floor.

The room was a complete mess. Next to the broken window I found my parents leaning over a lump body. Bassam was lying on the floor unconscious surrounded by a huge lake of blood. My face turned white. Was he breathing?

Chapter 5 I ran over to where my parents were kneeling over Bassam.

“Is he alive?” I shouted with heavy breath.

“Yes darling, yes.” My mother answered. “He is just unconscious. But he lost a lot of blood.”

“How?? What happened?” I asked. The minute I blurred out the question I saw the answer. Bassam was injured in his left leg right below his knew stuck out a large piece of glass.

“Oh my god!” I wasn’t able to control my reaction.

“Mummy?” I heard Fares’ voice coming from behind me and turned around instantly. He was standing in the door frame to our living room.

“Fares.” My mother and I blurred out at the same time. I quickly ran over to him.

“Fares what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see where you are. Is Bassam ok?”

“Yeah he’ll be fine. He just has a small injury. Come lets go back to Mariam.”

Mariam was sitting on the bed shaking.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t hold him back.” She looked at me with wary eyes. Her whole body was shaking.

“Its ok don't worry about it. Are you ok?” The distant sound of another bomb interrupted me. I saw Mariam give a sudden jerk. I sat down next to her with Fares and closed her into my arms.

“It will all be alright. Don’t worry.” I whispered.

After endless trials I finally managed to get Mariam and Fares to sleep and I was able to hurry back to Bassam and my parents. When I returned they had moved him from the living room into the guest room he was stayng in. He had regained

consciousness but was in acute pain. As I entered the room they were debating as to whether or not to pull out the glass stuck in his leg.

“I’m just afraid he will bleed out if we take it out. It is stopping the blood from running out and we have to bare in mind that we will never be able to reach a hospital tonight. So if he keeps bleeding we don’t have anything over here we can help him or even safe him with.” My father observed.

“Yeah you have a valid point but we can’t leave him like that.”

In the end we eased some of his pain by giving him pain killers that would help him pull through the night hoping that the situation would have settled a bit in the morning making it possible for my father to move Bassam to a hospital. WE stayed up all night next to him, nursing his pain and trying to keep disinfecting and cleaning around the wound. As we sat in his room I heard the bangs and explosions continue, while the war crafts were still flying over the city.

“Dad what are these explosions?” I asked my father “The warcrafts are throwing rockets.”

“But I don’t understand. People like us, we do we have to do with the Free Army?

Why should we suffer and die just for them to attack and maybe even kill a couple of them while thousands of us die.”

“Unfortunately this is the completely incomprehensible and inhumane situation we live in.” My father answered with a sigh.

I spent the night sitting on a chair next to Bassam’s bed. Whenever I dozed away the sound of another rocket hitting a building or the scream of a mother suddenly tore me out of my sleep. In my frustration I started counting the intervals in between each rocket released on us. Finally with the break of dawn the rockets stopped and the scene settled a little bit. Though the screams f injured people on the street still filled the air, the explosions had faded away. A couple of hours later my father, insisting to go alone, carried Bassam to the car and drove him to the hospital, before the fights started again. Later that night we were informed that the leg had gotten badly infected and that it had to be

amputated. My mother broke out into tears when she first heard the news. I ran to her and held her tightly.

“At least he is alive mother. Say hamudillah, at least he is alive.”

My mum looked at me: “Yeah you are right my darling. Hamdulillah, Hamdulillah ala kol shay’ ( Thank God for everything)” That night I didn’t sleep. The image of Bassam lying in the blood kept getting repeated and repeated in front of my eyes.

I imagined Bassam’s life as he struggled to rebuild it with an amputated leg. I felt the tears starting to get filled in my eyes but quickly recollected myself fearing that Fares, who was sleeping next to me would notice.  The following week after school as Nadia and I were just about to head home, Karim came up to us. “You guys are coming next week, right?” Nadia frowned.

“Next week? What is happening next week?”, I asked “Sandra’s birthday party.”

“Ohhh that. I completely forgot. Yeah sure we’ll come.” I smiled. Sandra was this girl in our group. Her parents were really rich and spoiled her with all kinds of things. So for her birthday they had rented this hall nearby and hired a decorator and a DJ. We all found it a bit overrated but we were excited for a night of dancing and fun.

As we were walking home I found Nadia clearing her throat. She was struggling to tell me something but I wasn’t going to push her. Finally she took a deep breath and started to speak.

“Hey Sabeen”, she started. “I wanted to ask you something for a while now.”

“Yeah sure.”

“Why did you try the beer that night, remember? I mean was it you, did you really want to try it or was it because they were pressuring you?”

“Ummm, to be honest…”

“Don’t get me wrong I’m not trying to make you feel guilty or anything I just…I didn’t expect it from I don’t know why.” It was obvious that she had been struggling to talk to me about this for a while but had been to scared to do it. “ Honestly. No they didn’t pressure me or at least not in that sense. I mean you guys tried it. And don’t worry I didn’t do it because I was simply trying to be like them or something no I really was curious to taste it just this one time.”

Nadia didn’t seem satisfied with my answer but left it at this. Of course, my answer wasn’t the one she was looking for nor what had really happened. But I was too confused about the whole matter myself that I wasn’t able to put it on words myself.  At night I was suddenly awakened by a banging sound. I looked around but it was dark, no sound anywhere. I thought it was just my imagination or something had fallen over in a garden. As I was just about to fall asleep again I heard the sound again. This time it was much clearer and louder. Suddenly the sky lit up into all rainbow colours. I jumped out of bed incapable of comprehending what was going on. Was England under attack or did an explosion happen somewhere close by. I ran out of my room to find Nadia, Sarah, auntie Margret and uncle Majd gathered in the hall downstairs.

“Did you hear that?” I shouted as I was running down the stairs.

“Yes. What was that? The sound was awful.” Nadia almost broke out into tears.

“Lets turn on the TV”, auntie Margret suggested. “Maybe they will report about it.”

As we were just entering the living room and another banging sound shook the house. Seconds later the lights went out. Sarah, Nadia and auntie Margret started to scream.

“Everybody out into the street now!”, Uncle Majd shouted. No, no don’t go out.

Don’t go out. I thought to myself. There are no objects to hide under on the open street. We’ll be like sitting ducks. But before I could say anything they had

already headed out. I quickly followed. I was the only one, who had witnessed situations like these. I will be the only one who can give them some advice. As soon as I stepped out I found the streets overflowing with people. Apparently all the neighbors had though the same as uncle Majd and were now standing in the street looking around confused and their eyes filled with terror.

Suddenly another rocket hit the ground just one block away. Some of the houses around us caught fire. Large flames were coming out. People started to run in all direction screaming and crying for help. The street turned into a chaos of people pushing and stamping on one another. Another rocket hit right next to us, pushing us all to the ground. I quickly pulled myself up fearing that the crowd of people running on the street would step on me. Fire was flaming up on all sides now. I started to run down the street looking for any hiding place I could find.

Any object that would shelter me from the arrays of fire raining down on us from the sky. People were screaming around me, some of them lying on the side of the road holding their wounds as blood came streaming out of their body. I looked back looking for Nadia or uncle Majd to find a line of armed soldiers following me. I started to run faster trying to outpace them. I felt my heart pounding heavily against my chest. I left Syria trying to avoid death to find it here in England? Was this the final chapter of my life? Was I going to face god knowing that I had stepped away from my beliefs, my family, my culture? Stepped away from who I was?

I started running faster and faster as though not just to escape the crown of soldier behind me but to escape my own thoughts. Suddenly I tripped over and fell to the ground. I looked next to me at what had caused me to fall down and found myself looking at a strange face. A man was looking at me with his eyes wide open and his mouth taking a form as if he was screaming. The only problem was that I didn't here a sound coming out of his mouth. I looked at his chest to find it red. His face and body had turned into a bluish white tone. The man was dead. I crawled back away from the corps and suddenly felt my hands were wet. I looked at them to find them covered with blood. Before I could even scream I saw the army come closer. They were now standing in a circle around me. I couldn’t make out their faces but I knew that their intentions weren’t good. One

of them, a tall, well-built man was looking down on me and slowly raised his gun in my direction. My heart started racing. I was struggling to breath. I looked around me. There was no way out. I was trapped. So was this my ending? Was this how I will leave this world? I a girl, who hadn’t been true to herself. Would my parents ever forgive me? Would they even be able to look at me after what I had done? After the way I had let go of my background? I looked back at the guy in front of me holding the gun. I knew this was my last breath and started to scream.

I woke up screaming in my bed. I was sweating from my whole body although the room was unusually cold. I looked around to find that I had left the window open.

I sat in my bed taking deep breath trying to calm myself. I buried my face in my hands. It was the same dream again. Only this time I had reached the point where the army had caught up with me and not woken up when I saw my hands stained with blood. I would usually wake up staring at my hands waiting for the blood to appear. The dreams always felt so real.

When I was finally able to collect myself, and breath normally again, I got out from under the sheets and closed the window. I stayed up for a long time looking at the ceiling, wondering about my dreams. Why did I keep having those dreams?

Was it simply guilt? But I liked my life this way? I had stopped being constantly pre-occupied with my worries about Syria and had started to enjoy myself? But was I truly happy? That question kept nagging at me as I tossed and turned trying to find sleep again.

The next day, Karim picked me and Nadia up at 7 to got to Sandra’s birthday party. I was wearing a green dress that accentuated my eyes even more and had my hair down.

“I love it when you have your hair that way. You seem more open and confident that way.”, he said when he saw me stepping out of the house. I blushed but thought to myself, had I really become more confident and open? Do I really have a better picture of what I want now? I felt more confused than ever.

The party was a blast. We spent the night enjoying ourselves and dancing on all kinds of songs. Karim even asked me for a slow dance with him. It was magical.

When we finished the dance I went over to Nadia and found her holding out my phone to me. “It started ringing when you were dancing.” she said. “I think its your father.”

I looked at the screen, it was him. My heart started pounding against my chest. I felt my hand start to shake. It was like a heavy stone just fell on my heart making it hard fro me to breathe. I had been avoiding my parents phone calls ever since the dreams had started. I felt to confused and at unease from the dreams that I was afraid of talking to my parents. What if the noticed that I wasn’t completely myself? What would I say to them? How could I ever explain the dreams to them?

I finally took a deep breath and picked up. “Hi daddy. How are you?” I asked as I stepped out of the hall.

“Sabeen. Salam my love. How have you been?” I heard my dad’s voice.

“I’m good daddy.”

“Is everything ok with you?”

“Yeah everything is just fine. Why are you asking?” I suddenly felt at unease. Had he noticed something?

“You just haven’t been talking to us much lately, not answering your phone often, things like that.”

“Oh, no I’ve just been busy with exams and stuff that's all.”

“Yeah we thought the same. So what have you been up to?”

“Nothing much. I’m actually at this birthday party of a friend.”

“Oh really. That’s great.” my dad seemed overjoyed. So he did want me to step away from my past and emerge into that culture. There was no reason for me to feel guilty.

“How are you doing?”

“We are great. The fights have aggravated a bit around us the past 2 weeks but nothing unusual. But you go to your party, habiba and we‘ll call you again tomorrow. Enjoy yourself. We love you.”

After my father had hung up I stayed outside for a while. What did he mean by the fights had aggravated around us? Was everything ok?

“Sabeen, there you are.” Karim interrupted my thoughts. “Are you ok? Why are you standing here all alone?”

“Nothing. I was just talking to my dad that's all.” I smiled at him.

“Are you sure? You seem strange lately?” Karim was eyeing me.

“No, no I’m fine really. I just didn't really sleep well last night cuz I was freezing but that’s it. So let’s go back in” I gave him a big smile.

“Okay.” Karim gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and we went back into the dancing hall.

The following morning I woke up to a strong ray of sunshine penetrating the window into my room. According to the weather forecast, spring was coming and the sunny weather would therefore continue for the whole next week. So two days later we all decided to go spend the day at the pond right behind the park.

As we were sitting there resting on large blankets enjoying the warm sun, I heard my phone beep announcing that I had received a msg. I wondered about who might have sent me a msg since Karim and Nadia were sitting next me. My parents wouldn’t send me a msg either they usually called. Suddenly I remembered that my parents had called me several times since yesterday night but I had been studying so hadn't called back ever since. I opened the msg to find it from my sister. My sister? My sister never sent me msgs. She called me a couple of times on her own but usually she would talk to me whenever my parents called. But she had never sent me a msg. Irritated I opened the msg. The body held only two sentences: “Sabeen you haven’t been answering our phone calls lately. We just wanted to tell you Fares passed away yesterday.”

I dropped the phone from my hands. My whole body started to shake as I was staring at the phone lying in the grass in front of me. No I must have read it wrong. Mariam must have misspelled it or something. It can't be true. It just can’t be true. I must have read it wrong. I must.

I slowly picked up the phone off of the ground. I heard Karim’s voice asking me if something wrong but it somehow didn’t penetrate to my brain. I looked at the screen. No I hadn't misread it. It was written there clearly.

“We just wanted to tell you Fares passed away yesterday.”

No exclamation mark nothing. Just a statement as if Mariam was stating a fact.

Actually she was. My whole body was trembling. My heart was racing. I couldn’t breath. Everything around me started to spin. I needed to get away. I just needed to get away from here. Before I knew it I was running. Tears were rolling down my cheeks. I couldn’t hear anything or register anything happening around me.

All I could see was the same sentence flashing in front of me. Fares passed away.

Fares passed away. Fares passed away. I felt like screaming. shouting or hitting something. I finally collapsed onto a bank in the park. Tears were flowing down my face like a waterfall. Why? Why? How could this have happened? What had happened? Only then did I notice that Karim had followed me. The last image of Fares telling me good bye kept flashing in front of me. I started to cry loudly, tears still filling my eyes uncontrollably. Karim held me in his arms while I continued to cry my heart out. Why him? Why him? What did he ever do in his life to deserve to die? What had he done to deserve to be the victim of a war he had no part in? He was only seven.

I remembered that night when he had told me to stay strong because after all if we die we’d go to heaven. Now he really did go to heaven. I cried harder remembering how young but strong he was. How he was capable of coping with the situation in Syria more than anyone of us. How he was so aware and smart at such a young age. He was my hero. He was everything to me and now he was gone. Even worse he wasn’t just gone, no I had abandoned him. I had chosen to live a life that wasn’t mine. I had chosen to run away from my background rather than embrace it. I hadn't managed to do what he had done a long time ago.

Instead of trying to live the better life my parents wanted knowing that someday I’ll return to my country a potential, a valuable resource I had chosen to live a new life completely detached from who I really was.

Karim was continuously stroking the back of my head. In the chaos of emotions and thoughts inside of me, I suddenly found clarity. I found myself.

I sat up straight and staring straight ahead with a firm face I finally spoke: “I’m going back to Syria.” I was more convinced than ever before. I slowly turned around to Karim. To my astonishment he didn’t look surprised or shocked. He simply looked hurt. “I know”, he finally said. “I’ve been waiting for this for a while now.”

I looked at him with my eyes wide open unable to grasp what he had just said.

How did he expect this? How was this not a surprise to him? When he saw my puzzled look, he continued to speak.

“You have become so distant and strange lately. You weren’t yourself. You weren’t happy. I could see it in your eyes. No matter what I tried to do you weren’t happy and you never will be. As long as you are here alone, without your family you won’t be happy. At least not yet. Maybe someday when you have found yourself and developed more you will manage to do that but not now.

When you were attached to Syria you were struggling to accept not knowing every little detail about their lives. You spent your days worrying about them more than anything. When you finally tried to completely let go you lost yourself.”

I looked at him with my mouth open. How had he managed to understand me in a way I hadn't done myself until now? How was he capable of seeing through me in that way?

“Fares died!” I finally blurred out. Just saying the sentence caused my heart to swirl around in pain. Before I could control it my eyes were filling with tears again.

“What?” Karim’s face became white. His eyes were wide open in disbelief. When he saw my tears starting to roll down, he quickly wrapped his arms around me and whipped me back and forth trying to sooth me.

“You need to believe that he us in a better place now. You need to know he is better off this way, Sabeen. He is waiting for you in heaven.”

I started to cry harder. My baby brother was gone. Simply gone.  When I returned back home, I quickly ran upstairs into my room and dialed my father’s number. Karim had wanted to accompany home but I had insisted on staying alone for a while. I need to be alone to collect myself and get a clear vision on what is next. I heard my dad’s voice coming through the phone. He sounded hurt. As if he was broken from inside, and I was sure he was. It pained me to know that I was miles away, incapable of holding him or my mother.

Incapable of being there for them.

“Daddy. Daddy I love you.” I blurred out before I knew it. I felt his voice become a tit more cheerful before returning into its painful tone again.

“You heard?”

“Yes dad. Mariam told me. Are you all ok?” I knew it was a silly question. Of course they weren’t but I still had to ask.

“Yeah, honey we are fine. Something like that had to happen sooner or later.” He added in a bitter tone. “Those bastards.”

“What happened daddy?”

“Nothing honey. He was playing in his room, when a bomb exploded right across the street. Since his room is the closest to the street, the impact was greatest over there. We tried to save him but we just couldn’t.” I heard his voice fail him in the last sentence.

“Daddy, he is in a better place now.”

“Yes, he is hamdulillah.”

“And you know he would want you to be strong.”

My dad gave a short laugh.

“Yeah he definitely would. He was the strongest and wisest of us in that sense.”

“Yeah he was.” Silence.

“Dad can I talk to mum?”

“She is sleeping honey. Finally. She hasn't slept since yesterday. It hit her hard you know.”

I felt my eyes fill with tears. My poor mother. He was her little man. I couldn't imagine what she was like now. How could I not be there? How? “Sabeen, honey, I have to go. Some people came over to give their regrets.”

“Yeah sure daddy.”

“We’ll call you later ok?”

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not having been in touched as often the past weeks.”

“Oh honey. It’s ok. It really is. I just want you to know that I know how hard it is for you over there and that I love you.” My dad’s voice was so soft and caring.

“I love you too, daddy.”  The next day, Karim came by to check on me and discuss my plans. He found me with small swollen eyes, a red nose and a mountain of tissues around me.

“I got you donuts. I thought maybe they’ll make you feel better.” He added with a smile.

I really truly loved him and that moment I realized that I would have never made until now without him.

“So what are you planning to do? Are you leaving right away or will you wait until this school year is over?”

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t. You know from the one side I wanna be there right now but there are only a couple of month left till the end of semester and if I leave now its like I have done all this for nothing. I won’t be able to go back to school there and I won’t have a degree.”

“Exactly. But we’ll work it out don’t worry.” He added when he saw my look.

It ended it in me staying for the rest of the semester. Due to the situation it wasn’t convenient for me to go stay with them for a while and return to finish my semester. On the other hand it was a waste leaving now. So we organized it that I would leave the day after our last school day. The month passed by with me trying to stay on the phone with may parents as often as I can, trying desperately to somehow comfort them while I was miles away. Karim always invited me to their outings and sometimes though not often I would go or else we’d spend it together - me, Nadia and him - watching a movie over popcorn at home or doing any other activity. My last week in England flew by in not time and before I knew it I was heading to the airport. Karim, Nadia, uncle Majd and auntie Margret all came to give their goodbyes. As I was sitting in the car I remembered the day I arrived and how everything had laid there before me. I had been so anxious about leaving Syria and so afraid of my new start. Now that I was finally going home with a good degree giving me some prospect for the future, I was more hopeful. Just a couple of days ago Karim asked me: “Why doesn’t your father leave Syria?”

“Its his home”, I answered. “He is too attached to it, because for him its where his family and life is and he loves it too much to leave it in the hands of anyone trying to destroy it. But maybe, maybe when I return I ‘ll manage to convince him to leave. Who knows.”

Now I thought of that. I wished I’ll be able to convince him of starting a life somewhere else. Somewhere safer. I wished…

When I had finally checked in my luggage and printed out my ticket I looked at Naida and Karim. I knew it was time for me to leave. I went over and gave uncle Majd and auntie Margret a hug.

“Thank you for everything you have done. You were more than parents to me and I couldn’t have wished for a better family to stay with. You really made me feel at home.”

I saw a tear roll down auntie Margret’s cheek. Uncle Majd looked down on his shoes trying to hide his emotions.

“We loved having you here my love. Please take care of yourself and your family.

And never forget you are all welcome here any time.” Auntie Margret gave me another hug and uncle Majd nodded in agreement. I turned to Nadia. I saw her eyes red with tears and quickly hugged her.

“You were the best friend I could have ever asked for. I will miss you so much.” I whispered.

“I will miss you too. We got so close I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

“You’ll be fine. Please take care of Karim for me.”

“I will, I promise you. And promise me you’ll take care of yourself and maybe I’ll see you again.”

“Yes. I really hope we do meet it again and maybe we will. You never know.”

I hugged her tied and turned to Karim. He was standing at the side looking down.

I took him by his hand and walked two steps to the side.

“Karim, I wanted to tell you something before I leave. Remember when you explained to me why you drank sometimes. I think I understand it now better but you know something? I think you are a great person. I think you are one of the strongest people I met in my life especially for living here all those years and trying to balance who you are. But I also think the principles you put in the

background for now are what will make you stronger and I do believe that you can balance your life respecting your principle. You are strong enough for that.

Either way I would have never gone through all of this without you. So thank you for that.”

“I love you.”

I smiled. “I love you too. Please don’t forget me and take care of yourself.” I looked into his greenish brown eyes. How I was going to miss them.

“Can I please hug you?”

I laughed and threw myself into his arms.

“I will miss you so much”, he whispered.

“Me too.”

“Please, please try to come back and take care of yourself over there. And whenever you can call me.” I smiled wrapped in his arms.

“I will”, I promised. When I finally pulled back I found a tear rolling down his cheek. I took another long look at his face. He really was handsome. Then I took my handbag and headed to the security check.

“Sabeen”, Karim suddenly shouted. I looked back.

“I’m glad you have your hair down today so that my last image of you will be the one I love best. Keep having it down even if I’m not around.” He smiled his bright smile. He was right. Now I was more confident to wear it down. Now I was happy to wear it down and not just for him.

Before I finally went through, I looked back at Karim. He was standing there with his arms wrapped around himself as though trying to find strength. I looked at his face. I would really miss looking at him and knowing that no matter what I try to explain, he will understand me. Would I ever see this face again?