Thankyou to Noretakes for the exotic-looking chapter art! :D
"Judging from your pictures prior to arriving in Jordan, you weren't wearing abayas or hijabs. Is this change due to Al-Tho'baan's influence on you?"
"Were you forced to cover yourself in their presence?"
"Based on what you have witnessed, is it true that Al-Tho'baan barters girls for bullets and weaponry?"
"Since you have been under their custody for nearly a year, were you able to find out what their motives really are?"
"Do you know of their next targets?"
"What crosses your mind when people say that Al-Tho'baan closely follows Islamic law? Do you agree?"
"Hayat! How does it feel to be back on American soil?"
Flashes from cameras and questions blinded me from all angles. It wasn't until Hydar, my older brother, shielded me from the masses that I even knew my family was at the airport, or at least, he was.
"Everyone, back the hell up!" Hydar bellowed as he wrapped a protective arm over my shoulder to lead me to his van.
Marc and Nat trailed behind, dragging their luggage with them. Hamad, my younger brother, appeared from out of the blue as well, grabbing the handles of my spinner and strode off to Hydar's van. The crowds did not heed Hydar's endless shouting, and they swarmed as close to the vehicle as they possibly could. My brothers motioned for me to go inside first to spare me from directly dealing with intrusive questions, followed by all of the luggage and the others. Once everyone and everything had been situated inside, Hydar had honked the horn more than five times to warn the press to back away, but they still did not care. People dared to pound the glass windows on my side of the van, causing me to flinch. From the way Hydar's jaw clenched in the driver's seat, I could tell he was extremely angry and he normally was a calm person, as far as I could remember. Only when he revved up the engine did the media actually run off for dear life.
The drive was mostly quiet and I was thankful for the silence. Hydar occasionally glanced at me from the rear-view mirror when he thought I wasn't looking, and Hamad would turn his head in my direction every so often as though he couldn't believe I was there. I knew my brothers would never interrogate me with such questions as the journalists had done, but surely they were awfully curious. They just had the decency to wait for when I was ready.
"Your parents didn't want to come to the airport?" Marc asked as he shook his right leg up and down, clearly nerved that he had to be the one to break the stillness.
"They did," Hydar replied as he sped along the highway; I was briefly reminded of Ahsan's reckless driving. "But I told them not to come with us. I had a feeling the press would be there, and it'd be too much for them to handle."
"Oh, true."
"Yeah."
A light drizzle pattered against the windows and that had served as a substitute for conversation for the remainder of the journey. As Hydar drove up to the driveway, my heart clenched tightly into a knot as two vaguely familiar people slowly came into view.
Nat squeezed my arm. "Ready?"
I looked at her briefly before staring back out the window. "I have to be."
She reached over and unlocked the door closest to me. "You got this."
Shakily, I stepped out of the van, gathering the folds of my abaya and gripping them until my knuckles turned white. A surge of a strange feeling flowed within me.
Fear? Embarrassment? Grief? Indifference? Shame? Perhaps a combination of all of them?
Because of this, I kept my eyes downcast to the soaked ground that meshed with each step I took. The rain had begun to pour heavier than before and water seeped through the multiple wraps of my hijab. With my eyes still staring at the ground beneath me, I froze in place as two sets of feet came into view. Soft hands caressed both of my cheeks, forcing me to gaze upwards at my worn-out mother. Her damp, greying hair was matted against her scalp and her face buckled with a stream of water sliding down her cheeks.
Perhaps it was her tears, or perhaps the rain was at work.
My lips trembled as I peered over her shoulder to find my father slouching alone, unsure of what to do and how to approach me, an acquainted stranger. Streams flowed down to his chin, also. I motioned for him to come over and he complied, without haste. There was nobody else in the world. It was just the three of us, examining each other's faces to see how much has changed, how much we had aged over time. My body shakes and my tears abruptly betray me. My father attempted to wipe my face with his calloused hands, causing a million childhood memories to race around in my head.
Before either of us was aware of it, I grabbed the two of them and embraced them so tightly, wrapping my arms around them and resting my head between their shoulders. They mirrored my movements and there was only the sound of crying. The sky furiously released its tears and so did we.
Then I knew, a part of me was home.
***
Everyone settled downstairs for some tea, giving me space to adapt to my new life. Apparently, before Nat and Marc had arrived in Amman, my parents had expressed the desire to have me live with them if I had returned. Respecting their wishes, Nat had all of my belongings moved from our apartment to my old room. Though every item in the room should have been familiar to me, there was just something uncomfortable and strange about being back in my own room.
I had a real bed, two fluffy pillows, layers of bed sheets. I had a walk-in closet and a wooden almirah. I had a small Persian rug in the center of my room. I had a desk with my laptop and a small lamp on top. I had clean walls, a shiny floor, and plenty of furniture. I had an attached bathroom. I had a nice window that gave me a vast view of the whole neighborhood.
These things were that which I had once taken for granted. At one point, for a long time, I had none of these luxuries. And now, I felt as though I deserved none of them. The fact that there were plenty of people who were literally dying to live the life I had just stumbled upon made me shudder.
I used to be one of them.
There was so many of them, and I could not do anything about it.
I dragged my spinner to my bathroom, too lazy to selectively choose clothing. After setting it on the counter, I unzipped the top and flipped it open, staring at the few abayas and scarves that Stacy had so kindly got for me.
"I don't know how I'll live when I get back to America. I don't remember what life used to be like. I don't know how I'll adjust to old things."
Yet again, my movements stilled.
"You have to try, Hayat. You really have to try to lead a normal life. It'll be difficult. It will take time. Take all the time you need, but you still need to try."
The faster I swerved back to the way I used to be, the easier it may be for me to live in normality. If I was ever supposed to live my life as normally as I possibly could, then I'd have to strip away any sort of entity that served as a reminder of the past ten months of my life.
The first thing I had to change was clothing.
While many women donned abayas, niqabs, or hijabs for spiritual reasons, that was not the case for me. I sought refuge in such clothing because it hid me from prying eyes. I had thought that the more covered I was, the safer I would be. But the truth was, no piece of clothing, no matter how much or how little, could prevent monsters from attacking helpless people.
I saw that with my own eyes, whereas I knew others had actually endured it many times over.
I wore the abaya out of fear, which was not how it should have been done. It should have been out of my own free will, out of my own choice without any hint of fear or force. The abaya and all head coverings served as a heavy reminder of my fear. Perhaps, someday I may choose to wear them if I was ready.
But for the time being, they all had to go.
I ripped off the headscarf, ignoring the prickles of the pins as they flew about, and threw off the abaya. In addition, I stripped myself of everything I was wearing and dumped all items into the trash.
My old life had been returned to me though I was highly undeserving. I felt as though I had been born a second time, naked and unjaded. This was my chance to start anew, again.
Ignoring the stranger in the bathroom mirror's reflection, I stepped into the shower and let the warm water run all through my hair and trickle down every inch of my body. Remnants of the past ten months swirled at my feet until they fell into the drain, out of my sight forever.
Afterwards, I threw on sweatpants and a hoodie, planning on curling into my bed even though my hair had not yet fully dried. Promptly, a knock came from my door.
"Yes?" I called out.
The knob slowly turned and the door was creaked open to a crack. "It's us," Hydar said. "Can we come in?"
"You can."
The door fully opened, revealing both of my brothers. They gave me a weak smile of uncertainty as they strode inside.
"Were you about to take a nap?" Hamad asked.
"Yeah," I admitted, stifling a yawn. "Did you need anything?"
"Well, no," Hydar began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, "We were just checking to see if you were okay."
Would I ever be okay?
"And you can tell us if you need something, anything," Hamad piped up. "Do you want food or something to drink?"
My heart swelled at the effort my brothers were making. The three of us would have to spend time to get to know each other once again. "No, I'm fine for now. I'll eat later. Thank you though."
"Not a problem." Hydar beamed since I had finally spoken in slightly longer sentences. "Don't hesitate to holler for us. We're just sitting around doing nothing."
"I'll keep that in mind." I tried to smile again before crawling into my bed.
The two of them spun around and Hydar was about to close the door when he poked his head back in. "Hayat?"
I turned my head. "Hm?"
"Whenever you're ready to talk, just come to us." Hydar's eyes softened as he made direct eye contact with me. "We can wait for as long as you feel the need to." He shut the door softly.
"I'll keep that in mind, too," I whispered to myself when Hydar was out of earshot. I curled into a very habitual fetal position on the bed. The last time I had done so was a mere few hours after Ahsan had been hung.
Ahsan...
Never had I imagined that a terrorist, or at least, a repented terrorist, would fill up a significant portion of my heart and mind. Ten months of my life revolved around him and now he was gone.
Ahsan, where are you?
Who was I kidding?
He lied to me. He lied that he would always be by my side. He said that to comfort me and only now did I realize it had been said in vain. In my mind, I conjured up bizarre things in order to find a reason to hate him just so it would be easier for me to alleviate the pain.
It did not work.
He lied to me. He lied to me. He lied to me.
He left me alone.
He left me with a life I did not know how to live.
Despite the fact that I was surrounded by familiar people and things, I was still a stranger to them all.
***
One month later
"Are you sure about this?" Hydar asked as Hamad and I crossed the street from Columbia University, making our way towards a nearby restaurant. "It's still not too late to change your mind. You can take the semester off, it would be okay."
"I'm sure," I confirmed. We had just gone to the university's admission office to enroll myself in the spring semester, which would begin in less than two months. Even though I was a 'special case', there were still a few forms and formalities I had to undergo in order to enroll for the upcoming semester. On a lighter note, the three of us were gradually getting along quite well and I quite liked hanging out with them when they were available. "The sooner I put this off, the more miserable I will be. I'm already a year behind. I can't put my whole life on hold."
"But it has only been a month since you came home," Hamad said. "Don't you think you're moving on too quick?"
There's such a thing as moving on 'too quick'?
"Not really. What would I be doing at home anyways?" I questioned him. "I'd just sit and mope around. If I'm taking classes, at least I'd be preoccupied with things to do."
"I guess," Hydar agreed with uncertainty, making room for me in the restaurant booth. He cleared his throat and handed me the menu. "Here, eat whatever the heck you'd like. It's all on me."
"Of course you'll be the one paying." Hamad rolled his eyes. "Hayat and I are unemployed and penniless!"
"Wait," I said, turning to my older brother. "You have a job? I thought med students weren't supposed to have jobs because it gets in the way of your ridiculous schedules."
Hydar shot a glare at Hamad before darting his eyes everywhere except at me. "Uh, well..."
My eyebrow slowly rose. "What's going on?"
"I kind of...dropped out."
"Aw no." I frowned. "I thought you were good at medicine. You just had to wrap up some years of residency and fellowship, and you would have been finished. Was it that hard for you?"
Hydar ran a hand down his unshaven face and gave Hamad another murderous stare, and the latter slowly cowered in his seat. "When I said I dropped out, I didn't mean that I had failed."
"Then?"
"I quit."
I stared at him blankly. "Why did you do that?"
He exhaled deeply before responding. "Well, when mom and dad were...sick, Hamad and I both knew that it wouldn't be right for them to be alone while we were both at college. Hamad just graduated high school and was scheduled to begin his accelerated medical program in August, and although he offered to delay his admission, I didn't want him to do that. In the end, I just decided to drop medicine so I could spend more time at home with them."
"You're telling me this now?" My jaw dropped. "You threw away your dream career because of me!"
"Wait, what? It wasn't your fault!" He insisted.
"Yes, it was!" I nearly shrieked. "They both got sick because of me, and you had to sacrifice your education because of it! Hydar, I'm so terribly sorry. I had no idea that this had affected your life so much."
"Hey, calm down." Hydar wrapped an arm around my shoulders to assuage my hysteria.
"I can't!" I wailed, ignoring the strangers who had turned to stare in our direction. "Where do you even work? Do they treat you well?"
I heard the low ripple of a chuckle from the base of his throat. "Well, they treat me well enough to pay for my Ph.D."
"Huh?"
"Hayat, after I quit med school, I enrolled in a Ph.D program, so technically I will still be called Doctor." Hydar smiled. "I commute and don't have classes at ridiculous hours anymore, and I actually love what I'm doing now. I work as a Teaching Assistant at Columbia University, and they waiver my full tuition."
"Wow." This was too much information at once. "You're going to college with me? Why did you keep this from me for the past month?"
"Eh, I was going to break the news to you, but not in the way Hamad did." Hydar narrowed his eyes at our younger brother, who was suddenly very much immersed in his molten chocolate lava cake. "Guess this idiot can come in handy at times."
"Gee, thanks," Hamad muttered, lazily wiping chocolate syrup that slid down his chin. "The level of respect is mutual."
Hydar rolled his eyes. "Stop ordering every darn thing in the place, Hamad. This is your fifth dessert."
"You said to eat whatever the heck I'd like!"
"That was to Hayat, not to you."
"Well, she's not eating so much, so I'm taking her share!"
"This kid keeps ripping me off," my older brother groaned as he inspected his nearly empty wallet.
***
Upon our arrival back home, Hydar told me to stay in his room instead of being alone in my own room. Hamad had wanted to join us, but Hydar had kicked him out as they both had final exams coming up and Hamad would only serve as a distraction, as Hydar had put it. My older brother sat at his desk, typing up a paper, and I decided let him concentrate.
Pulling up a chair, I sat by the opposite side of the room to rummage through his bookshelf where he had textbooks and old yearbooks. I aimlessly flipped through one of his more recent yearbooks from a couple years back, and an invisible knife swiftly seared an open wound in my heart as my hand rested on a page.
"H-Hydar?" My hands shook and I tried terribly hard to steady myself. I walked over to his desk, gripping the yearbook tightly.
He tore his gaze from his laptop screen and looked up at me expectantly. "Yeah?"
"How...how do you know this person?" I asked, pointing to the picture of a man who looked exactly like Ahsan.