My gaze becomes downcast. Was that boy the answer to my desperate prayer? I didn’t even know his name—never said a word to him. Yet he risked his life for us. For all I know, he may have given his life for us.
Shutting my eyes, I say the prayer I was taught to say whenever we hear of a death. It’s the same one I spoke over Jari. The identical gut-wrenching feeling I felt when I recited it beside him again washes over me.
“To God we belong, and to Him we all return.”
Feeling a hand on my shoulder, I look back at Salman. He’s ready to move on and so are the others. I’m not, but I don’t argue. The sun is long gone by the time we leave the wall. If it wasn’t for the smoke, I’m sure I would witness the stars popping up in the heavens. The idea of a starry night seems as distant as the thought of my mother’s warm arms.
We start making our way down the desolated street. The bottoms of my shoes feel a little thinner and worn out. I don’t know if it is the hot ground or all the walking. Either way, I don’t take the time to examine them. I hardly even notice the difference, unable to fully bring my mind into the present.
The boy’s eyes… I know where I’ve seen them before. They reminded me of Jari’s. They looked just like Jari’s before he stepped out of the shop and faced those vile men.
Are those the eyes of courage?
The odor of burnt wood is mixed in with the same foul stench of death—the same stench that was everywhere last night. It’s worse than before. Just the thought of how much death must be surrounding us causes me to shudder.
The smog remains dense. There seem to be more distant explosions tonight. I hear them almost constantly and see some cut through the mist, but they’re all far enough that our footsteps drown most of them out.
Salman and Faisal lead the way with Amaan a step behind them. I’m a pace behind Fatima with my heavy sack slung over my already sore shoulder. I pick up the whispers between the brothers and Salman. However, I don’t have the energy to decipher what they’re saying to one another.
I scarcely keep my mind focused, not even watching where I’m stepping as I follow them. My thoughts keep going back to that boy’s and Jari’s eyes. This was not the first time I’ve seen that gleam. I finally remember where I’ve met that gaze before any of this even began. They were worn by Nabeel.
Two days before Nabeel leaves for the last time, I find him standing at the kitchen counter with his friend, Zakariah. I don’t know his rank, but Zakariah serves directly under Nabeel in the army and only lives two miles down the road. The two of them always seem to be on leave at the same time.
Their voices are low, almost secretive, but I catch the look in Nabeel’s eye. Except back then, I didn’t recognize it.
“What are you guys talking about?”
Seeing me enter and hearing my voice, they both look my way before exchanging glances. That gleam in Nabeel’s eyes disappears.
I excitedly run up to the two of them. “Tell me!”
Nabeel looks back down at me as he stops leaning against the counter. Reaching down, he ruffles my hair. “You’re too young to know about that, Zaid.”
“Aww, what’s that about? I’m not part of the group now—”
My brother playfully flicks me on the forehead as he crouches down a little. “I’m sorry, buddy. Maybe next time.”
“You’re always saying that.”
Zakariah laughs as he comes closer to me. He puts his hand on my shoulder. “That’s just not fair, Nabeel. You’re a horrible brother for leaving Zaid out like that.”
I see a concerned expression momentarily wash over Nabeel’s face.
However, Zakariah glances up at Nabeel and shoots him a quick wink as he continues. “Why don’t I just tell you then?”
My eyes light up. “Really! You’re the best, Zakariah.”
Coming to his knees, he puts his arm around my shoulders and leans close, acting as if he is about to tell me the world’s biggest secret. “You see, Zaid, your brother and I were having a discussion about which one of us would win in a wrestling match. We all know that I’m stronger, but he just won’t admit it.” He sighs and shakes his head as he looks back at Nabeel. “But you agree with me, don’t you, Zaid?”
I don’t hesitate to respond. “No way!”
He moves his head back in surprise. “Huh?”
“Sure you’re pretty strong, but my brother would beat you!”
Zakariah is slow to reply, taken aback by the statement. “C’mon, Zaid. You do realize that I’m older than him—”
“Age has nothing to do with it, Zakariah! My brother was the school’s wrestling champion. He wouldn’t lose to you.” I whip my head to look back at Nabeel. “Right, big brother?”
Nabeel is slightly smiling now.
With a chuckle, Zakariah rises back to his feet. “Alright, alright. Well, I best be off, Nabeel. We can finish our little discussion next time.”
Nabeel shakes his hand. “Give my greetings to your folks.”
“I will.” Zakariah grabs my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “See you, Zaid—no, sorry: Dr. Zaid.”
Did he really just call me that? How did he know?
Hearing Zakariah’s footsteps grow faint, I turn back to Nabeel. He opens the fridge door and rummages through it.
“You told him?” I ask.
Nabeel doesn’t look my way. “I tell everyone.”
I watch him pull out a pound of chicken meat rolled up in brown paper as he turns back to me.
“Aisha is visiting her parents tonight and Abbi and Ummi are having dinner with friends. So looks like it’ll just be you and me.” Nabeel shoots me a wink. “I’m going to make some shwarma for dinner. Just the way you like it: tomatoes, lettuce, onions, lots of chicken, and even more spices.” He starts setting the ingredients on the countertop. “I went by Sohail’s shop today. The mangoes he was selling were ripe, so I picked some up. We can have them for dessert. That is if we have room.”
He looks back at me with a smile, but it fades when he sees my expression.
“What’s wrong, Zaid?”
I glance at the ground before replying, “I don’t think I want to be a doctor anymore.”
“Why not?”
“…I don’t think I can.”
He takes a few steps towards me before crouching down to come to my eye level, urging me to continue.
“Ms. Farooq said I’m not smart enough.”
“She did?”
“I got the lowest score in the class on the last math test. She said I’m not cut out for it.”
“I didn’t realize Ms. Farooq could tell the future.”
I don’t respond.
“Did you tell Abbi or Ummi?”
I shake my head.
He takes a deep breath and glances down at my feet. His eyes look like he’s weighing something, wondering if he should say it or not. When he does speak, his voice is different. It’s no longer speaking to me as his younger brother but as his friend. “You know, Zaid, Zakariah was joking about what we were talking about.”
“Really?”
He nods before his gaze focuses back on me. “Not even a few weeks ago, my soldiers and I were in a bit of a… well, situation.”
“What happened?”
“We were in Homs. The people we were fighting—the rebels—had heavy control of some neighborhoods. We were trying to take them back. It was…”
A silence ensues as he searches for the word.
“Difficult.” Nabeel pauses. “Some soldiers were pinned. The army tried an airstrike to break the rebel lines. It was a heavy bombardment that leveled entire streets. The cost was high. But we couldn’t break their lines.”