We waited until we were inside my hospital room before either of us spoke further.
"Really?" Nat asked as she made herself comfortable in a chair. "I have something to tell you too."
I leaned on the headboard of the bed and crossed my legs as I adjusted my abaya. "What is it?"
"You first."
Sighing, I rolled my eyes. "Are we seriously doing this?"
"Yes," she insisted. "I'm sure you have a whole lot more to say than I do."
"Exactly, and I don't have the patience to wait until I'm finished to hear what you have to say." I had a feeling this minor dispute would persist if I didn't change its course. "How are my parents and brothers? Did you get to talk to them at all?"
"Well," Nat said slowly, exchanging a look with Marc, who sat on the floor. "That's what I wanted to tell you about."
"What?" My eyes darted between the two of them as I took in their awkward eye contact, and panicked. "What happened to them? Marc, please tell me!"
"Hayat, calm down," he pleaded softly and straightened himself against the wall. "Everything's under control now."
The look of uneasiness on his face did not equate to his comforting words.
"But before it wasn't?!"
"Marc, you idiot, that isn't how you address the news to her," Nat scolded. "Ugh, I knew I never should have said anything."
My eyebrows shot up. "Were you planning on not telling me?"
"No, no, we were going to tell you. But, just not under these circumstances."
"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"
"Uhm, like..." She gazed over at Marc, silently pleading to him to help her out. He shook his head in annoyance and buried his face in his hands. "I figured it'd be better to tell you as soon as we go back to the States once everything is back on track. Well, the doctor told us that you're weak now; malnourished and low blood pressure and all."
"My blood pressure is rising right about now..."
"What!" Nat panicked. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I-"
I inhaled just enough oxygen so I could raise my voice. "Can one of you tell me what happened to my family?!"
"I'll say it," Marc declared after shooting Nat a glare. "So around late January or early February - I don't remember exactly - your parents were interviewed and they aren't as distant as you've perceived them to be."
"Yes, I know," I interrupted with impatience. "I still haven't forgiven myself for pushing them away so much. That interview was hard to watch."
"Yeah, we felt the same way too and- wait a second," Marc diverted his statement. "How did you find out about that interview?"
Crap.
He watched me intently as I took time to respond, or at least, to come up with a response. "I...uh...heard about it. From the militants."
Marc was not convinced, and rightfully so. "But you just said you watched it."
"Yeah, they had an iPad, so I, well, peeked," I faltered and quickly tried to save myself. "There was WiFi down where I was at! Isn't that crazy? I bet they don't even pay for it!"
"Well, terrorists aren't exactly the types of people who follow rules," he muttered. "Anyway, some time after that interview, a new video went viral. However, this time, you were in it."
I peered at him closely, puzzled. "I was?"
"Yes." He nodded. "Some chief militant guy grabbed the back of your head to make you to face the camera and you were screaming so loudly. You don't recall?"
"Oh!" My eyes widened with sudden realization and subconsciously, my hand flew to rub the back of my neck where it still hurt. It was the video that Zaakhir had forced me to be in while we were in the church's confessional room. "Yeah, I remember."
"Well, since that went viral, it made it even harder for your parents to avoid it and all the more tempting for them to watch it. And so, that's exactly what they did and they were traumatized, to say the least, more so after learning what the ridiculous ransom amount was. They were petrified that they'd never get you back. Really petrified."
"Meaning?" I feared his response and clutched the bed sheets tightly.
Marc ran a hand through his disheveled brown hair and gave me a long look. "Meaning your father suffered a heart attack and a bypass surgery followed, and your mother was admitted into a psychiatry ward after experiencing a round of PTSD."
My heart filled with lead and dropped to the floor.
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
My mother had it bad.
And I knew why.
I swallowed what little saliva was left in my mouth before going into a round of dry coughing. Marc instantly knelt by my side, patting my back. Pointing to the fridge, I inaudibly asked Nat to hand me a bottle of mineral water. She hurriedly twisted the cap, handed the bottle to me, and I let the liquid freely run down my deserted throat.
Marc waited until I gulped down the rest of the bottle before speaking again. He stayed by my side. "You okay?"
"Yes. No." My body felt frigid and my hands shook violently. "I don't know. No."
"Your brothers took the semester off to take care of them. They're all fine at home now," he said softly while Nat rubbed my back. "We've visited them every week since that incident and we even stopped by before we came here. Trust me, Hayat, they're getting better."
My bottom lip shamelessly trembled in the presence of my friends but I didn't care. We've all cried in front of each other before.
"Shh, stop it now," Nat told me as she sat down on the bed and pulled me in for a hug.
"It's m-my dad's second heart a-attack."
"We know."
"And I've lost t-track of the number of PTSD r-relapses my m-mom had."
"We know that too." She waited to see if I had anything more to add. When I stayed silent, she said, "You never told us that you had a twin who died at birth. That's when your mom developed PTSD and that's when your dad had his first heart attack, right?"
Out of habit, I nearly wiped my snot on Nat's shirt when I quickly stopped myself. If she saw that I put my gunk on her patterned blouse from H&M, she would tar and feather me.
Only Ahsan could tolerate such things.
Only Ahsan.
My heart sunk even further as a knot tightened in my chest.
Where is he?!
"Apparently, your mom stopped going to her psychiatric appointments since you came here, and she relapsed just moments after she saw that video." Nat let go, allowing me to wipe my nose with my own sleeve. "I wish you had told us that your parents had health problems. Even though I was in Indonesia, Marc could have checked in once in a while."
"What Nat means to say," Marc interjected after scowling at her, "is that none of this is your fault. We know you; you're going to beat yourself up for this, so don't."
"I've been such a horrible d-daughter."
"That's not true, Hayat."
"Y-yes, it is. I had no idea I had a twin until a few years ago, I was going through some old photo albums to find pictures to make a collage for Nat's sixteenth birthday party. There was a picture of an ultrasound and it was dated a few months before I was born. That's when I saw there wasn't just one baby on it, there were two." I brought my knees up and rested my chin on them. "I was shocked. I even thought I was seeing things, so I went to my older brother, Hydar, and asked him if there was some printing error in the photo."
"And then?"
"He told me the real story. S-she didn't develop as well as she should have because I took up most of the room in the womb. Can you imagine? I caused her death. Hydar even showed me photos they took before they buried her. She had an abnormally tiny body. There was no way she could have made it. That's when my parents had all these problems. My mom had the worst case of post-partum depression coupled with PTSD, and my dad had his first heart attack at age thirty-two. Hydar told me not to ever bring it up to them because they really couldn't take it; even my younger brother, Hamad, had no idea. He still doesn't, I think. Even after all this had happened, I still moved out of the house when I shouldn't have - all because I wanted independence. I am so selfish. I still gave them pain. I still hurt them so much. Even now, I..."
"Shh." Marc propped himself up on bed and I was suddenly sandwiched between my friends of over a decade. "You were an infant; obviously you didn't knowingly do this. What's done is done. Regarding your parents' condition now, I honestly think they're improving. They've even gone back to work. Just don't take all this out on yourself, even your health is deteriorating. I think the best thing we can do in this situation is to make sure you keep up your health so we can all go back to your family in one piece. Then, they'll definitely improve after seeing you in person. Sound good?"
I shrugged.
"Oh, come on. How hard is it to smile?"
The corner of my mouth twitched, on purpose.
"Apparently, it's very difficult," Nat muttered. "Hey, what time is it in New York now?"
"Uh." Marc pulled out his phone. "Around three or four the morning. Why?"
"I was asking to see if Hayat can make a call to her parents, you bum face."
"Your name calling really isn't appreciated."
"What's that?" Nat cupped her hand at her ear. "Did I just hurt pretty boy's pride?"
"And for the record, my face is beautiful. Way more than yours will ever be."
"Wow. Low blow, italiano."
"Even you just called me pretty."
"Uh, obviously that was an extreme exaggeration."
I couldn't help but jump into their conversation. "Are you guys dating by any chance?"
"What! No!" They simultaneously shrieked.
"Right..." I stared at the two of them before they both ultimately looked away.
"Girl, you have no idea how much I wished you were with me." Nat put her gossip face on. "I had just barely stepped foot off the plane in New York when I came back from my internship, and Marc kept texting me fifty times a day asking where you were and why you weren't responding to either of us."
A pink tinge formed on Marc's cheeks. "She's exaggerating."
"Would you like me to pull out my phone and show her?" Nat retrieved her phone from her pocket and Marc sat beside me with bated breath. "What the heck! My screen is fuzzy!"
"That's what happens when you purchase a phone from the Stone Age," Marc muttered.
"I got it just last year!" She continued to furiously swipe on the screen and muttering unintelligible things, her short, layered dark hair falling all over her face.
Marc tapped me on the shoulder when Nat wasn't looking and mouthed, "From the Stone Age."
I smirked.
"Ah! She laughs!"
"Well, no duh," Nat mumbled while still having a staring contest with her invalid phone. "Anyone who takes a two-second look at your face will crack up."
Then, I snorted.
"You don't believe her, right?" Marc glanced at me expectantly.
"Uhm, well..." I cleared my throat, failing to hide a smile. "You do kinda look goofy now..."
He feigned disappointment. "Wow, Hayat, I thought we were friends."
"Thought would be the key word." Nat gave him a smug look.
And so, we sat on the bed, bickering and babbling like three little children for however long it was. Nat ranted on about how certain professors must have had a burning passion of hatred towards her since they had graded her essays unfairly and Marc complained of struggling to pay bills while juggling two jobs. Nat eventually confessed that she had been 'borrowing' clothes from my wardrobe. But, she also assured me that whenever she decided to give herself retail therapy, she made sure she went on a shopping spree just for me as well. Marc complained even more, especially about how Nat was so terrified of pumping gas into her car - with the underlying fear that the gas station would explode if she even touched the pump - that she would always drag him along with her to do so.
Then, we reminisced about things that had happened in grade school, like the time Nat had a huge crush on a boy and was convinced that writing her name on a piece of paper - actually, many pieces of paper - and slipping it into the slits of his locker would compel the boy to like her back. The next morning when the boy went to open his locker, a pile of paper fluttered out in front of him with 'Natalia xoxo' written all over. All of the students in the entire grade were witnesses.
Not surprisingly, Nat vehemently insisted that Marc and I had fabricated this tale.
Whatever the reality was, I had missed this a lot. It was nice to be normal for a change. I had nearly forgotten what it was like to simply chat, laugh and reminisce with friends.
Nearly.
And I would have succeeded had Marc not redirected the conversation to be about me. "So did they force you to wear this?"
"Wear what?"
"This." He lifted the end of my robe ever so slightly. "The abaya."
"Oh, well, this was all he...I mean they." The knot in my chest painfully tugged at my heart. "This was all they had."
"I see." Marc watched me thoughtfully. "Do you like it?"
"I don't mind it, honestly," I admitted. "It feels like protection to me now, like a shield."
He grunted, but I wasn't quite sure what that sound was supposed to signify.
"Well, I'm starving," Marc announced suddenly, sliding off the bed. "I'm gonna go down to the lobby to see if they have any food for us."
"Oh, there's some food in the fridge here," I said, pointing to the corner.
"I meant real food, like you know, a meal? Airplane food sucks." He grimaced at the thought. "What do you want to eat, Hayat?"
"Doesn't really matter to me," I told him. "I hope you know hospital food is just as bland as airplane food. Well, they both would taste good to me now because, you know, I haven't had real food in a while."
"I think you're not aware that we're currently in the best hospital in all of Jordan and the service here is impeccable. I'm in the mood for some falafel. Do you want that too?"
"Sure, falafel would be fine." Falafel also had memories associated with it...
He nodded and asked, "Nat, what do you want?"
"Biryani, please," she responded promptly, finally giving up with her phone and tossing it aside.
"Uhm, Nat, that's Desi food," I told her and her mouth formed an 'O'. "I don't think they'd offer that in a hospital."
"Oh, uh, well, whoops," she mumbled sheepishly. "Guess I'm in the wrong country."
"Well, at least now we know who failed World Cultures," Marc muttered, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorway.
"Hey, it was just a little mistake!" She exclaimed.
"Yeah right, that's exactly what you said when you busted Hayat's car." As Marc watched the look of horror play out on both my and Nat's faces, he quickly added, "Oh, was I not supposed to mention that?"
I spun around to face a very embarrassed Nat. "You busted my car?!"
My poor little Toyota!
"Gah, I'm sorry! It was just a little mist- uhm...it was an accident!"
"Basically, she's trying to tell you that she was jamming to One Direction while trying to park, ended up losing concentration when she heard Zayn Malik's high note, and drove up on top of the curb right outside your apartment, ultimately busting all four tires and the breaks," Marc explained with a wave of his hand. "But, you know, it's just a little mistake."
"Why are you dragging One Direction into this!"
"See, Hayat? Out of everything I just said, she chooses to defend her little boy band."
I glanced up at Marc. "Is my car okay now?"
"Oh, don't worry. It's fixed now and I made sure Mrs. Malik paid for the damage."
"I don't even like him anymore." Nat scoffed. "He betrayed my boys."
"I forgot to mention." Marc ran a hand across his jaw. "I had to deal with her depressive phase when she found out Zayn Malik had left the band. Her insanity lasted for ages."
Nat opened her mouth to argue but Marc was prepared.
"So Nat, you'll have falafel too? Yes? Great! I'll be right back!" He didn't even wait for her to answer as he had already flown out the door.
"He is honestly so annoying," she said as soon as Marc was out of earshot.
I chuckled and chewed on my lip, deep in thought. "You know, you both argue like a married couple."
"If you're implying what I think you're implying, then uh no, not happening. He's still very much crazy over you. If only my phone was working, I'd show you the texts to prove it."
"So, you're saying that if he didn't like me, you'd be okay with him?"
"That's not what I-"
"I am totally going to play matchmaker!"
"Hayat, you're crazy!"
"Says the person who cried over Zayn Malik's departure." I gave her a smug smirk.
"Oh my God, not you too!"
"Lunch has arrived!" Marc strode back into the room, carrying one large tray, with a newspaper tucked under his arm.
"Wow, that was quick," I said, getting up to follow the aroma of falafel.
"Yeah, they were on their way to bring us food so I just picked it up from them." He distributed the plates of falafel to us, and we all sat on the floor.
"Mmm, this is actually really good!" Nat exclaimed before taking another bite. "But man, I'm really craving a cheeseburger. That reminds me, how long will it be until we can all go back home?"
"It might take more than a few days, possibly even over a week," Marc said after chugging down some water.
"Really? Why's that?"
He tossed the newspaper over to her. "Because of this."
Nat took one glance at the newspaper before glaring up at Marc. "Dude, just because you're fluent and literate in Arabic, doesn't mean everyone is. How am I supposed to read this gibberish?"
"How about you spend your fangirling time by learning a new language to benefit yourself," Marc told her curtly. "Even Zayn Malik is bilingual!"
"For the last time, I do not like-"
"Oh my gosh, relax you two!" I scolded, but failed to keep the smile off of my face. "I'll read and translate it for you."
Nat gratefully handed the paper to me and all cheer and happiness instantaneously vanished from my face as soon as I had laid my eyes on the front page, reality stabbing me in the face yet again. Over a dozen head shots were lined up in two rows, and two faces in particular were very familiar.
The tight knot in my chest tore open as I read and reread the main headline, hoping that my already unstable mind was merely playing tricks with me.
"Fourteen members of Al-Tho'baan are scheduled for public execution by hanging on the nineteenth of October."