Coming Home (English Version)

11. Falcons

But I always thought you'd come back,
Tell me all you found was

Heartbreak and misery.

It's hard for me to say
I'm jealous of the way

You're happy without me.

---

Layla

"More balloons?" I ask my sister over the phone.

"Yes, this place needs something more." Maryam replies.

"But didn't you hire these balloon people?"

"I did, but we are going to need more. And could you please get some confetti while you're there?" She requests. "This table is looking a little dull."

"Maryam, I'm telling you, he's so going to hate this." I warn.

"Excuse me! No!" She starts yelling away from the phone. "The cake is supposed to face the other way! I'm sorry, sis. So, can you get that, please? I'll let you know if we need anything else."

I give up. "Fine, I'll get more balloons and confetti."

Hanging up, I turn around and see Reem with oversized red glasses with birthday candles on them.

"How about these?" She jokes.

I laugh. "Give me a pair, let's take a pic."

We pose with the glasses, making funny faces and I snap a couple of pictures.

"I can't believe I'm shopping for Sheikh Hamdan's birthday party!" Reem tells me, as we put the glasses back on their place.

"A party that he didn't ask for and that he's going to hate." I point out, pushing the shopping cart to go look for confetti. "So I wouldn't be that excited."

"I don't care. He's just so..." Reem trails off.

"So what? You love him, don't you?" I tease her. "Everyone else does."

We make it to another endless aisle filled with party supplies. Reem said this is the best and largest party store, that's why we came here.

"Is there anything not to love about him?"

Is Reem fangirling?

"He once made a visit to DMI, I almost fainted," she continues, "and all I had to do was pretend I was busy working."

She's totally fangirling.

I stop when I see the hats and try one on filled with purple sequins. For Reem, I choose one with red flowers and put it on her head as she continues talking about Hamdan.

"And his poems!" She sighs. "He's so romantic."

I wave my hand dismissively. "Most of them are patriotic and about Dubai. Where is the stupid confetti?"

"Well, yeah, but I think there is someone special he talks about. Like an old love, a woman that is away from him."

"What do you mean?"

"Yeah, I think a lot of his poems are for a woman he can't have."

I come to a halt, staring into space, my hands still on the cart. I know exactly what that feels like, an impossible love. I really don't keep up with what he writes in his poetry, but perhaps I should start paying more attention.