“Okay, Craig. It’s just...”
“I know. Waiting is horrible.”
Adriana heard him sigh.
“Let me make some calls. I have contacts in the aid agencies. I even know a few officials. I’ll see if there are any reports of anything happening, but I don’t want to say too much to them. I don’t want to alert anyone.”
“Thank you, Craig.” Adriana smiled at Maadhavi. “I’m sure it will all be okay, but please, if you hear anything, let us know.”
“I will. There was nothing on the wire about anything north of Saraqib today. There was shelling west of the city and a few minor skirmishes, but nothing where they were. It looks like the ceasefire will happen, so I’m sure they’ll be okay.”
“Thank you, Craig, we appreciate it. If we hear from them, we’ll let you know.”
“I know it’s hard, but get some rest. For all we know, they will be back with you by this time tomorrow.”
“I hope so.”
“I’ll be in touch soon. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, and thanks, Craig.”
Adriana ended the call and looked at Maadhavi. She smiled.
“It will be okay.”
“I hope so,” she gulped.
Adriana stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.
“Hey, as Craig said, by this time tomorrow, they will be back with us.”
Maadhavi said nothing, just rested her cheek on Adriana’s shoulder as Adriana stared at their reflection in the darkened window.
She hoped Craig was right.
71
They couldn’t sleep, so they talked. No-one wanted to think about the next day, so they talked of happier things—childhood, love, funny events that had happened to them. They hadn’t eaten since the morning, so when their stomachs growled, they moved on to food, deciding on the first thing they would eat if they got out of there. Steve craved a cold beer while Mansur described Warda’s mutton biryani so well, their mouths were watering. Mia’s desire was simpler. She just wanted to sit at a table with a tablecloth, clean cutlery, and plates, and to eat enough to fill her stomach. It had been so long since she had eaten a proper meal, she had forgotten what it felt like.
John listened quietly. He was hungry, and the thought of a well-made Botanist and tonic, crossed his mind, but mostly he thought of Adriana. He wondered what she was doing. How worried she must be. Closing his eyes, he pictured her standing before him, her hair falling on the sun-kissed skin of her shoulders, the sparkle in her hazel colored eyes as she smiled. He wished he could contact her, reassure her, tell her not to worry, tell her he loved her. He could feel the emotion welling up inside him, and he willed himself to think positive.
He remembered his conversation with Mansur. Maybe he was right. Maybe the time and date of his death was already written. Maybe it wouldn’t be tomorrow. The thought gave him a little hope. He visualized Adriana again, slowed his breathing, feeling his body relax. Adriana, I love you. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. If there was a metaphysical world, perhaps she would get his message.
Anyway, he felt calmer and somehow perhaps a little confident for the first time. It was ridiculous, given that he was tied up on the floor of a house in a war-torn country, but tomorrow was another day. Anything could happen. He turned his attention outward again and tuned into the conversation between Steve and his niece.
“I’m sorry, Uncle Steve.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. Because of me, you are here, your friends are here.”
“Hey, hey, I’m glad you reached out to me.” Steve paused. “You know, the day I found out you had crossed into Syria was the worst day of my life.” John heard Steve’s voice break. “I thought I would never see you again. So, whatever happens tomorrow, at least I got to see you once more.”
Mia said nothing.
John cleared his throat. “Where’s Naeem?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does he know where you are? What happened to you?” John heard Mia sigh.
“I don’t know. I... thought I heard his voice at one stage, but...”
“If he does know, is he likely to help you?”
“I... I don’t know anymore. He’s different. I mean, he loves...” Mia’s voice trailed off.
John waited.
“He loves... Malak.”
John heard a sniff, and when she spoke again, her voice was quiet, just above a whisper.
“She didn’t deserve to be born into a place like this. I made a mistake... I’ve ruined so many lives....”
72
John watched the room take shape as a fresh day began, the black turning to grey as the sun peeked above the horizon.
He had slept little but didn’t feel tired. His fingers were numb, and his buttocks sore from sitting in one position, but his mind was on the day ahead. What was going to happen? He looked over at Mansur lying on his side, his chest rising up and down as he slept. He said he wasn’t worried, but could that be true? He was sleeping soundly enough.
John glanced over at Steve, leaning against the wall, the slight figure of Mia leaning against him. She slept soundly, a look of peace on her face. As if feeling John’s gaze, Steve’s eyes blinked open, and he turned his head to look at him, held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. Turning away, he looked toward the window where long rays of sun began to stream through, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air. John followed the direction of his gaze, and they sat staring at the light. The constant shelling of the previous day was absent, and they could hear the chirping of birds.
Mansur stirred and with difficulty, maneuvered himself into a sitting position. He smiled at John and Steve, then closed his eyes, and his lips moved silently.
John watched him, wishing he believed in something,
