James stood up, still holding my hand.
“I’ll walk with you to your gate.”
Zada looked at us quizzically.
As we approached my parents, I dropped his hand. He didn’t argue—he simply shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor, unable to meet my eyes. After all the times I’d seen him watching me, and now he couldn’t even look at me. I felt like the lowest person on the planet. I’d used him to heal myself, and I’d broken his heart.
Mama and Baba were already freaking out about the flight, and were waiting impatiently, carry-on luggage clutched tightly.
Baba shook hands with James, thanking him one more time for saving my life, and Mama gave him a polite bow.
It was all so painfully awkward.
James finally glanced up, giving me an encouraging smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, and a polite kiss on the cheek, but the intensity of passion burning in his expression was far less polite. I felt a slicing sense of loss as I walked away from him.
I glanced over my shoulder and tried to smile.
But he didn’t react, and a moment later, he was out of sight.
I suppressed the landslide of emotion ready to bury me—walking away from him felt so wrong.
Everything seemed different now that I’d almost died. Every minute was precious, and I needed to atone for my stupidity for the rest of my life.
“Is everything okay?” asked Mama, glancing at me anxiously.
“It will be,” I said.
Zada gave me an odd look.
“Is James okay?”
How could I answer that?
“Oh, Zada, I’ve made such a mess of everything! James asked me to marry him!”
Her eyebrows shot up.
“What did you say?”
“No, of course!”
She studied me carefully.
“I thought you two were close.”
“We are close. We’re friends, but that’s all.”
She seemed skeptical.
“Just friends? Because I saw him coming out of your hotel room really early in the morning the other day. He’d stayed, hadn’t he?”
I floundered with my answer, flustered and off balance.
“Yes, but … okay, yes, he stayed. But that was different. I needed … to stop the nightmares, Zada. And I needed it to be with a friend.” I bit my lip, praying she wouldn’t judge me too harshly. “Do you understand?”
She linked her arm through mine.
“I’ll never understand what you went through, I can’t. But if it helped, being with James, then I’m glad you were with a friend. But Amira, that man is in love with you. We all see it. Mom and Dad have been waiting for you to tell them that you were engaged or something.”
I gaped at her in amazement.
“Are you kidding me?”
“No, of course not.”
“And they’d have been okay with it? With me marrying him?”
She shrugged, looking uncomfortable.
“I wouldn’t say ‘okay’ exactly, but if he was who you wanted. But … you don’t love him?”
“I do, as a friend. I’m not in love with him.”
She looked at me thoughtfully.
“Is there someone else?” She lowered her eyes. “Is it Clay?”
“No! It’s not Clay! It’s not anyone! Why would you ask me that?” I stared at her as the hint of a blush bloomed on her cheeks. “Zada? Zada! No way! You and Clay?!”
She shook her head vehemently and unhooked her arm from mine.
“No, don’t be silly. I like him. He’s sweet and funny, cute, too.”
“Oh wow! You do like him. You really like him!”
“We just talked,” she said softly, blushing more deeply. “While you were seeing the therapist, I used to go talk to him. He doesn’t have any family, none who cares. I smuggled in candies for him,” she smiled shyly. “That boy has a sweet tooth.”
I was amazed. My little sister and Clay! I hadn’t seen that coming.
“Are you sure you don’t like him?” she asked guiltily. “He’s not the reason that you and James…”
“No,” I said firmly. “They’re both very special to me, and they always will be. But I’m not in love with either of them.”
“Then what is it?” she asked puzzled. “What are you hiding?”
I took a deep breath.
“Zada, I’ve got so much to tell you.”
James
I FELT COMPLETELY numb—a total absence of feeling.
The bone-crushing disappointment and humiliation ached in my chest until I was able to lock it down and throw away the damn key.
I’d offered her everything, but she didn’t want it—she didn’t want me.
Stupidly, I’d thought that when she chose me to chase away the nightmares, to sleep with me to erase the bad memories, I thought that I meant something to her. But in the end, I was just a warm body—there at the right time, and available with no strings.
I’d got it so wrong.
So I switched it all off and buried it deep. I’d had a lot of practice doing that. And right now, I hoped that I’d never remember how to feel again.
The flight home was long and boring. Unlike my flight across the pond with Smith, I was flying coach and there was no one meeting me at Heathrow. I had to get two trains and a taxi back to the base in Wiltshire.
While I’d been away, the regiment had deployed, so I’d officially been sent back to Aldershot until I was attached to a new regiment who needed EOD support. But first, I had to pick up my wheels from Noddy, and I had the whole weekend before I had to present myself to my C.O.
I hoped like hell he had the sense not to ask me what I’d been doing in America. Officers didn’t like being told ‘no comment’.
I couldn’t tell him about the work, where I’d been or what I’d done. And there was no one that I’d tell about Amira. Clay guessed, I think, but even he didn’t know everything.
Noddy had done me a solid and looked after my Ducati like it was his firstborn. Not that he had kids—the soft bastard couldn’t keep a woman interested long enough to knock her up. Not that I was doing any better.
Well, that was my opinion. Noddy said that he was too smart to get caught out. I wasn’t going to argue with him when he’d looked after my wheels so well.
I slept on the couch at his place my first night back home. It was all so weird because it didn’t feel like home, and I had to lie about everything. According to me, nothing of interest had happened whatsoever. Talk about irony. My YouTube video had been viewed 29 million times by now, and I had nothing to show for it—except a gaping hole in my chest where my heart used to beat.
“You missed all the action, mate,” Noddy said. “You must have heard about the multiple terrorist attacks all down the east coast? They even have one of them on YouTube—suicide bomber in Times Square. You must have seen it!”
“Yeah, I saw it,” I said, “but I was training down in Memphis—heat, crotch rot and mosquitoes.”
Noddy yawned and scratched his vast belly.
“Sounds shite, mate. Most boring deployment ever.”
I agreed, then changed the subject.
We had a few beers, ordered takeaway curry, and caught up on Noddy’s life. That was a cosy twenty minutes, including scoffing the food and necking two beers each. Then we discussed Spurs’ chances in the Cup.
Noddy was one of my oldest friends, and we were exchanging small talk like strangers.
The next day, I pointed the Ducati towards Aldershot.
The countryside had changed while I’d been away, and a long, hot summer had turned to Autumn. Life had moved on—mine more than most, but at the same time, nothing on the surface had changed. As I arrived at the Barracks and headed to the old accommodation block, my room was exactly the same as when I’d left it all those months earlier. Even the dust looked the same. But I’d changed so completely, I was almost surprised to recognize myself in the mirror. It
was confusing and disorientating to be back here.
The world was crammed with seven billion people, and I’d never felt more alone.
Amira
MY PHONE RANG and I could feel a huge smile on my face before I even answered. Clay was video-calling me. It was the first time we’d spoken since I said goodbye to him in New York, although I knew that Zada had chatted with him several times.
“Hello, sister!” he said as soon as I answered. “Oh, wait, I’ve been practising this: As-Salaam-Alaikum!”
I laughed.
“Wa-Alaikum-Salaam.”
Which was the traditional response to his greeting, ‘Peace be unto you’.
“You look great, Amira,” he said with a smile.
“Hardly!” I touched my scar self-consciously, “And I’ve just been for my first run in six weeks—I staggered around a three mile circuit in 92oF heat—I look horrendous!”
“Nah, you look great,” he grinned. “You probably smell rank though.”
“Hey!”
“Just saying. Anyway, I don’t care how much you smell—we shared a bed for three weeks without showering, right?”
“Ugh!” I shrieked, covering my face. “I don’t want to think about how bad we both smelled. Promise me you’ll never mention it again!”
He laughed.
“I promise.”
Then he screwed up his face.
“Uh, so I have something to tell you … about Zada…”
I rolled my eyes.
“Seriously, Clay? You think I don’t know about you and my little sister. How come you didn’t tell me before?”
He winced.
“I wanted to, but…”
I smiled sadly.
“It’s okay, I get it. Everything has been pretty crazy. But for the record, she seems really happy, so I’m happy, too. But if you hurt her, I will hunt you down.”
“Understood!” he grinned at me. Then his smile faded. “Have you heard from James? He’s not answering my calls or messages.”
I shook my head, guilt flaring hotly.
“No, he hasn’t been in touch.” And I hadn’t tried to get in touch with him.
“Damn,” he said softly. “I was hoping you guys would have spoken. Smith says James is back at barracks, but that’s all he could tell me.” He looked away then took a breath. “Zada told me that you turned him down when he asked you to marry him. I didn’t see that coming. I mean, I know he liked you and that you two had a thing…”
I felt so guilty, and I couldn’t forget the look on James’ face when I said no, the moment I broke his heart.
“Oh, she told you,” I said tiredly. “Yeah, it was completely out of left field. I was so shocked. I thought we were friends. We are friends, but … not like that.”
He sighed.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Amira. Things can get pretty intense on an op, emotions run high.”
“You think that’s what it was?” I asked hopefully.
“That’s part of it,” he said carefully.
He didn’t say anymore; he didn’t need to.
Guilt squirmed in my stomach again; it was a constant nagging pain, like toothache. I could only imagine how James felt. I’d hoped that he’d talk to Clay, but apparently not.
“Give him time, Amira,” he said gently. “I’m sure he’ll be in touch.”
I wasn’t so sure. I was fairly certain that I’d never hear from James again.
“How are things at home?” he asked. “Zada said you’d told your parents about wanting to go to Syria. Damn, girl!”
I sucked my teeth.
“Yeees.”
“Huh, went that well, did it?”
“They were very unhappy,” I admitted, understating their shock hugely. “Mama cried—and they weren’t happy tears—and Baba went to the mosque to pray. “They’ll come around. They just want me to be happy. Especially after, well, everything.”
He looked at me thoughtfully.
“Are you happy?”
“Getting there,” I replied honestly.
“Hmm. Did Zada tell you that I’m going to convert?”
I chewed my lip.
“Yes, but will you?” I asked uncertainly, remembering that James had made the same offer to me.
“Yep,” he said quickly. “I will. I’m already looking into taking instruction from the local Imam. Zada won’t tell me what your parents think, so will you tell me?”
I groaned. I really didn’t want to get between my parents and my sister, but I owed Clay. I owed him everything.
“It’s a lot for them to take in,” I said gingerly. “Give them time to get used to the idea.”
We were silent, each contemplating the obstacles in our future.
“How are you doing really?” I asked quietly.
He pulled a face.
“The doctors say I need another operation on my stump. Maybe several more before they can even think about fitting me for a prosthetic.”
“That isn’t unusual,” I said gently. “They’ll try to make it so you’ll be able to wear a prosthetic with reasonable comfort.”
He nodded and sighed.
“Yeah, I know. They’ve explained it all to me, but the surgeon says he’s worried about the integrity of the blood vessels, so…”
“You’ll get through it, Clay, I know you will.”
He smiled tiredly.
“So, how you feeling about having me for a brother-in-law?”
I gasped.
“Are you serious? Really? You’ve asked her to marry you?”
“Not yet,” he said, his expression earnest. “But it’s heading in that direction. She’s planning to come out East so we can spend some time together while I’m in rehab. She says she wants us to get used to the idea, so we can both be sure that we know what we’re doing, but I know what’s real. Your sister is pretty amazing, Amira.”
“So, this call, are you asking my permission to marry Zada?”
“Would you give it?” he asked nervously.
I grinned, in spite of our serious conversation.
“I couldn’t be happier,” I said honestly.
There was a loud banging on my door and I raised my eyes to the ceiling, regretting that I’d let my apartment go and moved back in with my parents for the next few months.
“Amira! Lunchtime! Your father is waiting!”
“Coming, Mama!” I yelled.
Clay chuckled.
“Sounds like it’s fun living with your folks again.”
I groaned.
“They treat me like I’m five years old!”
“Course they do,” he said, his voice softening. “You’re precious, and they’re scared that you’ll be leaving again one day soon.” His face clouded over.
“I know, I understand. They’ll come around, I just have to give them some time.”
I sounded more confident that I felt.
He sighed and nodded.
“Yeah, I guess,” and he gave a weak smile. “You’d better go.”
“Should I give your love to Zada?”
That made him smile big, and I saluted his grinning face as I ended the call. The emptiness I felt then was hard to bear.
I jumped in the shower, washing quickly. I had a lot to do today, including going to see the HR department at the hospital and formally quitting. It wouldn’t be a surprise to them since I’d been gone a year, but I needed to make it official.
My family knew the truth about my sabbatical now—but I hadn’t been able to tell any of my former co-workers the truth, and I never would. My parents were devastated when I admitted that I was going to Syria. Zada cried, but I think she understood. I hoped so.
I also had to complete an application to volunteer with Médecins Sans Frontières, or as they were known in English, Doctors Without Borders. I was dreading leaving my parents again, but I was ready to move on with my life. Zada was moving on with hers, and a small part of me was jealous.
But only
a small part.
TIME MOVED SLOWLY, but it did move. Baba and Mama gradually got used to the idea of Zada dating Clay. They’d even talked to him on Facetime, solemn and stiff, but I think his persistence was wearing them down.
She’d been out to visit him once and came back glowing with happiness.
It had taken more than three months for my paperwork for MSF to come through and for me to be approved to work in Syria. I’d had to go to several interviews, and I thought I’d have a problem with the year’s gap in my résumé, but Smith had pulled some strings. Whatever else I thought of him and the work he did, he was a man of his word. Yes, a professional liar who kept his word—my life was full of contradictions.
Zada was happy for me, happy to have her sister home, but there was a distance between us that hadn’t been there before. I’d hurt her when I’d left before, and now I was leaving her again.
“At least promise me this time you’ll stay in touch,” she said out of the blue one day.
“I promise, Zada. You know why I couldn’t before.”
She shrugged.
“You’ve explained it, but I don’t think I’ll ever really understand why you did what you did. Mom and Dad … well, you can imagine,” she said accusingly. Then she looked up. “But I kind of understand why you want to volunteer in Syria. I think Mom and Dad get it, too. They’re worried.”
“I know.”
“I just wanted to tell you, to let you know, to say it out loud,” she stuttered. “I’m going to miss you so much, but I love you. I love you so much.”
She fell into my arms and I hugged her tightly.
“I love you, too, Zada. And I’m so happy that you and Clay are … well, I’m really happy.”
“You mean that?” she asked with damp eyes.
“Of course I do. He’s a great guy.”
“He is!” she smiled. “He’s amazing.” Then her expression became serious again. “Just promise me that you’ll be careful, okay?”
“I promise.”
We hugged for a while longer, then I glanced at my watch.
“I’d better get going—I have to be at work in forty minutes.”
While I’d been waiting for my life to start again, I’d been volunteering at the nearby free clinic. Surviving on their limited resources was good training for me, but I suspected they were still a lot better off than where I’d be going.
TICK TOCK (EOD (Explosive Ordnance Disposal) Book 1) Page 23