As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow (72)

“Too big?”

“Yeah.” I sigh and then remember my necklace. I pull it from under my collar. “I have this. My parents gave it to me when I graduated.”

He peers at it. “Fits perfectly with the ring.”

I thread the chain through the ring and it glitters prettily. “What do you think?”

“Beautiful.” But he isn’t looking at the necklace.

I blush and tuck it away under my sweater.

He scratches the back of his neck. “We have a week left and I know I said I wanted to get married in Syria, but I didn’t ask if you—”

“I want…,” I cut in. “I want one of my last actions in Syria to be this. Something good.”

He beams.

“What’s the saying? ‘Make haste with good deeds’?” I smile. My head feels a bit light with the excitement of a decision I didn’t think twice about but leaned on my feelings for. “Let’s get married today.”

He laughs and stands. “Why don’t you check on Layla first?”

I gasp, scrambling to my feet. “Oh my God. She must be worried out of her mind!”

He nods. “Let’s go.”

I can’t hear anything apart from our breathing, which hopefully means there’s nothing dangerous outside my home’s ruins. I move to climb up the rubble and Kenan stretches a hand out, stopping me.

“Let me,” he says. “Please.”

I nod. Kenan hoists himself over the wreckage. As he looks from side to side, he moves slowly out of my view. Then I hear him drop to his feet on the other side with a grunt of pain. A few minutes pass with no sound except the birds.

“Okay, it’s safe,” Kenan calls, and a few seconds later I jump down beside him.

In the day, more of last night’s catastrophe comes into view: from the faint smoke spiraling to the sky to the graveyard silence that has taken over. We grimace as we trudge forward, reality scratching through our shield of bliss.

I look back at my long-ago home, feeling my heart tighten. I wonder whether I’ll be back or if it’s the last time I’ll see it.

When we reach Layla’s home, Kenan insists he’ll be fine walking back to his place on his own.

“I have to check on my siblings. Lama is still recovering.”

I chew my tongue.

“I’ll be fine, Salama,” he laughs. “You’re marrying me today. I’m more than fine.”

I duck my head to hide my red face. “Yeah, just—I’ll tell Layla the news and then we can work on that.”

He winks. “I’ll see you at the hospital?”

I nod, then a thought flutters in my mind. “Why don’t you bring Yusuf and Lama? I mean, if Lama’s feeling up to it. Also, it could distract Yusuf from… well, everything. I’m sure they’d want to be there.”

Kenan’s smile is so warm I feel it all the way to my extremities.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I’ll ask them.”

I click open the door and shut it behind me to find Layla sitting in the hallway, her legs stretched out in front of her and stomach still bulging. Her head droops to the side, eyelids closed.

I crouch down beside her. “Layla,” I whisper, and she starts.

“Wha—” she says groggily, blinking rapidly before settling her gaze on me. “Salama! Oh, alhamdulillah!”

I quickly hug her, breathing in her daisy scent.

“What happened yesterday?” she asks.

“I’m going to tell you, but you can’t interrupt me till the end.”

Her expression turns curious, and I notice she looks a bit worn out. “Fine.”

I fill Layla in on everything. To her credit, she doesn’t utter a single sound but as soon as I finish, she grabs my arm and lets out an Oh my God! I show her the ring and she squeals.

“When?” she asks, breathless.

I can’t help but grin. “Now.”

She collapses into another fit of Oh my God! and is able to pause it to say, “I told you someone was going to snatch you away from me!”

I laugh. “You’ll always be my priority.”

She chuckles, although it doesn’t sound full of life like it usually does. “Good. Then I give you my blessing. Who’s going to marry you?”

I fidget with my hijab. “I was thinking Dr. Ziad. At the hospital. That way there would be witnesses.”

She sighs. “Perfect.”

I take a deep breath. “I was wondering if Kenan and his siblings could move in with us. I—I don’t want him to be so far away from me.”

Layla beams. “Of course! It’s better we stick together till we leave.”

I exhale, a weight slipping off my shoulders. “Well then, you know I want you to be there. Can you come?”

She laughs lightly and brushes her pregnant belly. “I wish! But Baby Salama is being difficult. I’m feeling a bit tired.”

I press a palm to her forehead. She’s not too warm.

“I’m fine,” she says. “Just weary.”

“Well, of course you’re tired. You slept in the hallway!” I scold and help her onto the couch.

She settles comfortably under the covers before noticing the disappointed look on my face.