As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow (36)

I take in my surroundings, and realize I’m sitting on the ground with Kenan standing in front of me. His expression is fearful in the crease between his eyes.

For me, I realize.

“Salama, are you all right?” He crouches beside me. “Are you hurt?”

I don’t trust my voice, so I shake my head. He’s eye level with me and so close I can smell the faint scent of lemons on him. Or maybe I’m hallucinating that too.

“Then what is it?”

I look around, searching for Khawf, and I find him a few steps behind Kenan. His smirk is sharp, satisfied with today’s proceedings. I close my eyes, willing him away. His presence is an anchor on my chest, sinking me deeper and deeper, a reminder of what I’ve done. Of everything I’ve lost and will ever lose.

A few shattered buildings line the quiet road. It’s only a few minutes away from my home, and right now Kenan and I are the only ones here, kneeling beside the wreckage.

But Khawf is still here, and I can’t think of anything but what I’ve done. Blood drains from my body and quickly I say, “Tell me something good.”

Kenan draws back a bit, the confusion settling deeper. “Wha—”

“Kenan, please,” I plead and tear my eyes back to him. “Please.”

He looks over at where I was staring, but he can’t see Khawf. I stare at Kenan, studying his features, and murmur under my breath, “Daisies. Sweet-smelling daisies. White petals. Yellow centers.”

Kenan’s cheeks are hollow. It’s a sign of malnourishment, but I’m sure that even if he were a healthy weight, those cheekbones would look like they could cut me if I touched them. He glances back at me and I can see him fighting with himself not to ask the million questions teetering on his tongue.

Finally, he takes a deep breath and says, “My favorite Studio Ghibli movie is Castle in the Sky. It made me see the world differently. There is so much magic in it, Salama. A boy with a dream to see a floating island. A girl who’s the last of her people. How both these children are able to save the world from a power-hungry man’s evil ambitions. It has robots and a magical amulet and one of the best ending theme songs ever.”

He laughs quietly, lost in his own words. My breath slows and I listen to what he’s saying. I don’t remember when I last watched Castle in the Sky, but I can still see it playing out so clearly in my mind.

“There’s this scene,” Kenan continues, “where Pazu and Sheeta are standing atop the airship and it’s night. Even animated, the sky is… endless. And they talk about their fears and how a series of unfortunate events made them meet. I was only ten years old when I first watched it, but that scene hit me like no other. This was a story about kids the same age I was, who were scared but still doing the right thing. It made me want to be brave too. Made me want to tell my own stories. Create my own worlds. And I thought maybe—one day—I’d have my own adventure and meet my Sheeta.”

He’s been staring at me the whole time but I don’t think he’s seeing me. His eyes have taken on a dreamlike sheen, and I’m entranced by the peace his words have painted on his expression.

The world around us has gone silent, the breeze the only sound swishing between us. And just like that, my panic subsides and I wish we could stay here, sitting on the ground forever, surrounded by the sanctuary his words have created.

But then his gaze sharpens, and when he finally sees me, his cheeks are as pink as carnations. He’s paler than I am and not very good at hiding his expressions.

He clears his throat and the spell is broken. “Are—was that something good?”

I nod and hold on to this moment, tucking it in my heart to revisit when the sadness comes back.

He smiles. “All right.”

We stand and continue walking. I’m thankful he doesn’t ask what happened, but it doesn’t feel right to stay silent.

“Did you get what you need?” I nod toward his camera.

“Oh yes. I recorded the sniper victims, and there was one family who didn’t want their faces blurred. They want the truth to be blazing.”

My stomach feels hollow. He did record the sniper victims. I thought I made sure to check if he was in my vicinity, but then again, I was running on adrenaline and nerves and could have easily not seen him.

“Oh,” I say casually. “What kind of shots did you take?”

He shakes his head. “I was interviewing a family in another room when the sniper victims came in. By the time I got there, I couldn’t move through the sea of bodies and I didn’t want to be in anyone’s way. The closest to me was Dr. Ziad, so I recorded him and his patient.”

My chest expands with relief, but guilt sours every breath I take.

“But I saw you save that girl’s life,” he says in awe. “I looked up and saw you stitching her neck. The bullet went straight through, right?”

I try not to falter. “Yes.”

My home is around the next corner, ten feet away.

“You saved her father’s life by saving hers,” he says, thankfully not catching on to the shame I’m trying to erase from my expression. But there’s something in his tone that makes me glance at him, and when I do, he looks almost terrified. It vanishes as our eyes meet and he smiles his kind smile. “You’re amazing.”