by Zack Love
As we stood in the busy arrivals area, with lots of expectant faces and a few hired drivers holding signs with the names of the travelers they were supposed to pick up, I suddenly thought about one important respect in which Maria’s arrival was easier than mine: she was more of a mature and confident adult – twenty-two rather than sixteen – and, above all, she was traveling with a strong male escort. On a few occasions, I had actually been wondering about how she and Michael would relate, but I never bothered to ask Maria about such details, because she had enough to worry about and I didn’t want her to think that I was getting jealously possessive or somehow more focused on relatively petty details. So I really had no idea how the two of them had gotten along – from the time he had helped to relocate her and our family from Raqqa to Kessab, to his involvement in her release from captivity, and then to escorting her to Beirut and finally Montreal. But I caught my first uncensored glimpse of their interpersonal dynamic when I spotted the two of them turning the corner into the arrivals area. Apparently neither knew that I could see them, because they looked at each other in the most happy and comfortable way possible, until they realized that they were now visible to the people waiting for travelers in the arrivals area, and then their facial expressions quickly switched to the focused task of scanning the crowd for me and Uncle Tony.
Maria’s eyes soon met mine and I felt my face light up with the widest grin as I ran towards her, while she hurried in my direction until we collided in a joyous embrace. It was our first physical contact since Christmas 2011, when she had left with Uncle Luke and our younger brother for Raqqa, back when Islamists hadn’t yet invaded the city and turned it into a living hell. With tears of joy streaming down our faces, we hugged so tightly it felt as if we might never let go, for fear of being separated for too long again. Eventually, we stepped back from our embrace briefly just to look each other over – as if to confirm that we were in fact experiencing this moment together and it wasn’t some dream. It had been so long that I had somehow forgotten that she’s actually a few inches taller than me. She looked exhausted from the international flight, and the countless ordeals suffered before it, but she was still as beautiful as ever: above circles of fatigue were her bright hazel eyes; her black, wavy hair draped over her shoulders; and her lovely figure was somehow accentuated by the backpack hanging from both of her shoulders, although she was clearly still regaining some of the weight she had lost in captivity. After our brief, mutual inspection, we resumed our hugging.
For a moment, it felt as if Maria and I were the only two people in the airport. But Uncle Tony eventually approached our endless, vice-like embrace and gave us a mopey face, as if he were being purposely excluded from all of the fun.
“Excuse me, but what’s an uncle gotta do to get a hug around here?” he asked in Arabic, placing his palms gently on each of our shoulders. “I was told that I’m on the welcoming committee too,” he protested, in his inimitable, jocular way. We laughed as we wiped away our tears and broke apart so that Uncle Tony could embrace Maria too.
I then ran up to Michael and wrapped my arms snugly around his. Uncle Tony eventually came over to Michael and said, “So, you must be the famous Michael Kassab – I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Uncle Tony, you’re looking at the future president of Antioch,” I beamed, as the two shook hands warmly.
“Look, I’m just thankful that the guy got me back my niece. After that, he can run for president of any country he wants, and I’ll vote for him!”
We all shared a much-needed, hearty laugh, and then headed to Uncle Tony’s car.
Chapter 23: Julien
Sunday, 6/8/14 at 23:49.
Today I spent nearly all of my time with Lily grieving over the final loss of Anissa.
“I forgot what this feels like,” I confessed at one point. “I think I’ve experienced it only one other time, many years ago, before I became wealthy.”
Lily leaned back in her seat. “What?”
“Heartbreak. I think that’s what this is – that terrible, dull ache that you just sit with, knowing that the person you felt inexplicably close to, who often even seemed like an extension of you, is suddenly gone. Out of reach. That human being who completed you and made you better is suddenly paired up with someone else for a different destiny, leaving you alone to search out yours just when you thought you had found it. That same person is now so completely tied to someone else that your messages and phone calls now produce a dreaded awkwardness rather than an exciting joy. It’s a terrible emptiness. The only consolation is maybe the realization that you can feel that way about someone, but it’s always drowned out by the knowledge that it could take years to find someone else who makes you feel that way, if you’re even lucky enough to get a second chance.”
Lily looked genuinely empathetic. “I’m sorry to hear that this has been so hard on you.”
“Me too. The emotional impact really took me by surprise – another indication of how rare it is for me to feel this way about someone. And, absurdly enough, there’s a kind of butterfly effect from all of this that’s causing me to act selfishly towards another living creature.”
She furrowed her brow at my admittedly cryptic confession. “What do you mean?”
“Well, four days ago, right after Anissa had come to my office, my veterinarian for Icarus told me that he’s well enough to fly and fend for himself in the wild again. But I just can’t bring myself to set him free. I’ve grown used to sharing my bedroom with the little guy and, now that Anissa is definitely out of the picture, I feel all the more attached to this small bird for some reason... I know that I’m being terribly selfish by keeping him in that cage, now that I’ve nursed him back to health. And I feel awful about it, but I just can’t let him go.”
“Maybe that’s because Anissa was a kind of Icarus for you.”
“She definitely was.”
“What about the other aspects of your life, Julien? Doesn’t the success of that distressed asset deal you mentioned help to balance out your mood a little?”
“No, it doesn’t. On the contrary – thinking about that only reminds me of what I’ve lost because it was thoughts of Anissa that had prompted me to give away half of my personal profit from that deal.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize that you had done that,” she replied. “That was very nice of you.”
“After you get past that level of comfort that lots of money can buy, wealth has the fading appeal of beauty – to others and even to yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
“As the cliché goes, find me a stunningly beautiful woman, and I’ll find you a guy who’s bored of fucking her. In the same way, if you find me an obscenely wealthy husband, I’ll find you a wife who thinks he doesn’t have enough money. And that probably makes him feel the same way in the end. But not Anissa – she was remarkably and genuinely different, and would never fall into that pattern.”
“I thought you worried at times that she was using you for your wealth.”
“Yes, but even when I thought that, I never suspected that she was attracted to my money for her own personal benefit. She’s not some gold-digging materialist who insatiably chases brand names and luxurious comforts. Any pressure I ever felt from Anissa to spend money only made me a better person – because it was always for a good cause.”
“And you don’t think you’ll find someone else with her values?”
“I might. But I don’t know if she’ll hold my interest in the same way.”
Lily gave me a playful but genuine smile. “Well, for what it’s worth, I couldn’t care less about brand names and luxurious comforts, and would choose philanthropy over consumerism any day of the week.”
Lily didn’t have to use herself as an example. And yet she did. Sometimes the subtext screams louder than spoken words. I felt tempted to take her right there and then, in her office, maybe on her desk – if only just to get over Anissa and finally confirm, in a very definitive and assert
ive way, that Lily and I were going to go there, whatever the consequences might be to her license or our professional relationship. It would be therapeutic in a way that no amount of therapy could be: it would make me realize that Anissa was replaceable and not some impossibly unique angel whose loss I was doomed to mourn for the rest of my life. But something held me back. All I could bring myself to do was flirt a little. “I knew there was a reason I liked you,” I remarked with a wink, feeling very unsatisfied with the results of my self-control. “But let’s not overstate your asceticism when I tripled your hourly rate to see me on Sundays.”
She smiled at the invitation to banter a little. “That’s not a measure of my materialism, Julien – that’s just how much I value my days off. This is not exactly play time for me.”
My mouth formed an exaggerated frown. “It’s not? You mean I’m a pain in the ass for you – a job that you have to tolerate to pay the bills?”
“Well, you are a pain in the ass when it comes to extracting anything about your childhood.”
“I guess you should be paid extra just for the patience involved in that thankless process. It’s almost as hard as the job of a dentist trying to perform a root canal on a cat surrounded by moving mice.”
She nodded in knowing amusement. “Actually, I think giving that cat a root canal would be easier.”
“Unfortunately, that’s probably truer than ever, because my motivation to tackle my past has now fallen significantly. Of course, I still care about resolving the issue someday, and I’m aware that it’s something that I need to do at some point, but there’s no urgency now.”
“Even if I prove to you with photos that I visited a slaughterhouse?”
“Well, a deal is a deal. So I will honor the terms of my challenge to you, but I just don’t know how deeply I’ll be prepared to explore the related issues with you. It’s really something that I try to think about as little as possible.”
“I can certainly understand that. And I guess you’ll have to understand if we end up reaching an impasse and therapy is no longer productive.”
Lily looked up at the clock on the wall, and I knew from her expression that our time was up. “Yes, I know that’s a possibility,” I conceded, tilting my head to the side a little and raising an eyebrow. “Look, if there were a love interest at stake, my motivation to plunge into the darkness would probably be a lot greater.”
My sexy therapist stood up and I followed her to the door, which she opened.
“We always end up here, don’t we, Julien?” she noted, staring into my eyes.
I looked back into her blue irises, and had to summon all of my willpower not to take her into my arms and ravish her mouth. The temptation was all the more powerful because of how cleverly she had timed her rhetorical question: “We always end up here, don’t we?” That question literally referred to the exact physical spot where we awkwardly and reluctantly said goodbye at the end of every session together. And “here” also referred to our ongoing dilemma about whether she could be that love interest for me – a dilemma that made ending up here, at the door, all the more electrifying.
Chapter 24: Anissa
Thursday, June 12, 2014
To My Dearest,
The last six days since my trip with Uncle Tony to Montreal have felt a bit disoriented as far as where my heart is. After I broke up with Julien, I had only about two weeks with Michael before he left for Syria. And when I saw him again for the first time at the Montreal airport, it felt too awkward to kiss him there, in front of my relatives and also after being apart for so long.
I’m guessing he must also feel a bit uncomfortable because he hasn’t really tried to see me since his return. On the other hand, he’s insanely behind on his life after being gone for about a month, on top of the ongoing pressures from the MCA’s activities in Syria, so it’s understandable that he would need a while to adjust to the time zone change, catch his breath, and work through the endless to-do list that has been impatiently awaiting his return.
Seeing Julien just before going to Montreal probably added to my confusion. I still feel a strong pull towards him and – for all of his faults – he has a core goodness that still shines through. I was reminded of that after reading the awful article about the incident at JMAT involving the homeless war veteran and, of course, learning of his incredible generosity towards the MCA. In addition, everything he said to me in his office has stayed with me, and I keep wondering if I’m making a terrible mistake by not giving him a second chance. Even worse, maybe I’m being unfair to him, since I know him so much better than those who don’t seem open to his potential goodness (like the journalists who delight in every chance to portray him in a negative light).
On the bright side, I’ve been spending a lot of time with Maria, trying to help her get acclimated to life in New York. She said that she plans to reconnect with her love of music in a city that offers so many unique opportunities for her to do that. I also talked to her about how helpful it was for me to see a therapist after escaping Syria and offered to introduce her to Monique. Maria seemed open to the idea, and I’m hopeful that she’ll decide to start seeing her.
I actually have to leave now for an MCA meeting – the first that Michael is running since leaving for Syria last month. I’m excited that Maria will be attending as well – if only so that she can see that there is a growing group of activists trying to help our community. That should lift her spirits a bit, and maybe she’ll even make some new friends there. I think it would also be fun for us to work together on an issue that matters so much to us both, so hopefully she’ll decide to become actively involved in the MCA. I’ll write you more when I get back.
* * *
I just returned from the MCA meeting and most of it was spent discussing how the threat of ISIS is metastasizing across Syria and into Iraq, because world powers have failed to stop this cancer. Michael drew our attention to news reports about a week ago that ISIS had attacked Mosul with only about 1,500 fighters and had apparently scared away Iraqi soldiers, who were at least fifteen times more numerous. Then he mentioned reports from yesterday that ISIS had seized large quantities of US-supplied military equipment and had looted over four hundred million dollars’ worth of Iraqi currency from the banks in Mosul, Iraq’s second largest city. The terrorist group had also freed thousands of prisoners, many of whom are likely to join the insurgency. I just couldn’t believe how the world was letting these monsters take over so easily.
As I expected, Maria found some strength and solace in the group solidarity provided by the MCA, and was also grateful that she could now do something to help, rather than passively watch our community get victimized by armed and violent Islamists. My sister is not allowed to have a paying job while seeking political asylum in the United States, but she can certainly volunteer her time.
“Thank you so much for bringing me here,” Maria whispered to me at one point during the meeting.
“You mean the United States or this MCA meeting?” I asked with a knowing smile.
“Both!” she beamed. “You’ll be seeing even more of me now because I’d like to become an active member in this organization.”
At one point in the meeting, someone who was new to the MCA posed a question to the thirty people there. “Why doesn’t the West show more concern over the plight of Christians in Syria and Iraq?”
To my surprise, Maria raised her hand and offered her explanation: “To the jihadists, we are kafirs, or infidels. But to the West we are just Arabs.”
“That’s exactly right!” I affirmed, impressed with my sister’s insight. Many of the Middle East Christian members present nodded their heads and talked amongst themselves in agreement.
At the end of the meeting, my sister and I went up to Michael to speak with him and a surprising level of awkwardness ensued. He and Maria seemed to stiffen up a little, and I myself felt uneasy, not sure how I was supposed to behave around him – especially with my sister next to me. Michael man
aged to ease the weirdness a little by focusing our chat on developments in Syria and Iraq, but then he abruptly excused himself, saying that he had to rush back home to take care of some things. I didn’t know what to make of the whole thing.
Maria accompanied me back to my dorm room and, at that point, I couldn’t resist asking her more explicitly about Michael. There was something that was making it uncomfortable for the three of us to be together, and my curiosity to find the explanation wouldn’t go away. To get the most candid and natural response out of Maria, I decided that I would ask her in Arabic, even though I had been insisting – to help her linguistic adjustment – that she start using only English when she spoke to me, Uncle Tony, or any other Arabic speakers she met in New York.
I broached the topic in a fairly direct but friendly way – as if it were just a light observation for us to muse over: “Did you notice how awkward it seemed when the three of us were talking just now?”
She smiled in surprise, as she responded in Arabic: “Why did you suddenly switch to Arabic for this question?”
“Well, I figured that trying to explain this awkwardness could involve a lot of subtle observations or carefully worded statements, so I thought it would be easier and more natural for you to discuss it in Arabic.”
“Yes, definitely,” she confirmed with a smile, as we entered my dorm room and each took a seat on my twin-sized bed. “And I agree that Michael seemed a bit stiff or unsure of himself when it was just the three of us, but I think he was just eager to return to his work because he’s so busy these days.”
“I agree... Except that he also seemed that way to me at the airport, when I came to pick you up... So that’s why I thought maybe there’s something else going on.”
