by Schafer, Ben
I never dated a lot when I was growing up. I never had anyone in my life that I could honestly call my girlfriend. Was that all this was: first date jitters? No, it was more than that. I was about to fundamentally change my life in ways I hadn’t yet imagined. I’d have to be crazy not to be a little anxious.
Suddenly, the crowd seemed to part and she was there. She had changed her wardrobe since I’d last seen her. She traded the skirt and blouse for a knee-length black and white dress. Instead of a headscarf, she had a wide-brimmed hat settled gently on her dark hair. She looked like Audrey Hepburn in that outfit. There was something else. For the first time in fifteen years I saw her as she had been when we were children: brash, outspoken, ready to take on anything the world had to offer.
She had a gray carry-on bag in one hand and held on to Hashim with the other. He was dressed in pretty much the same clothes he wore in Syria. I guess some styles are timeless. On his back was a small blue-and-green backpack adorned with cartoon characters I didn’t recognize.
Her bruises and other injuries had almost disappeared despite a lack of any obvious makeup. I wish I knew her secret. I still looked like crap. But, seeing her here, I felt like the luckiest guy in the world.
I ran to her. She dropped her bag in surprise then giggled. “What?” I asked self-consciously. “What is it? Is it the rose? It’s too much, isn’t it? Or did you want more?” I pointed to one of the duty-free shops. “I’m sure I can get something for you in there, if you want it.”
“What I want,” Azima chuckled, “is for you to calm down, Kyle. Take a breath once in a while.” I handed her the rose. She held it to her nose and inhaled deeply. “It’s beautiful.” She looked away from the rose and back at me. “Perfect.” She furrowed her eyebrows. “But how did you—”
“Come on, Azima. I am a master of covert activities. When something is this important to me, I find a way to make it work.”
Azima took a sudden step forward and kissed me. I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to me. Our bodies pressed against one another, and the entire world melted away.
Our kiss on the deck of the Haroutyoun had been a release of pent-up passion and relief that we had survived a harrowing journey. This went beyond even that emotionally-charged moment. It was transcendent. It spoke to the deep connection between us. It spoke of our troubled pasts and the promise of greater things ahead.
Thoughts began flying through my mind, images of a possible future with Azima. I could see myself with a real family and a real life, far away from the violence and tragedy that made up the bulk of my experience on this planet. I would be able to sleep soundly at night knowing that Azima and Hashim were safe and happy. I could stop fighting. Azima could stop running. Hashim could have a father who saw him as a son to be cherished and not a legacy to be forged.
I saw a house, a colonial brownstone with a shingled roof and a big grassy front yard, the perfect spot to toss around a football on a lazy autumn afternoon. I recognized the neighborhood as one from my own memories. Uncle Kyle, my mother’s younger brother and my namesake, lived a few houses down the block. I spent every summer during high school living with Uncle Kyle and working at his bakery in upstate New York. This would be the perfect place to raise a son, and perhaps a daughter, as well. I pictured Hashim and his half-sister playing tag in the wide lawn without the fear of men with guns lurking in the bushes.
Peace. Joy. Life as it was meant to be lived.
Didn’t I deserve to be happy? I spent my entire adult life in service of others. If I left the Order, they could find someone to replace me. But I knew that, as long as I lived, I would never find anyone who could replace Azima. For that moment, that wonderful moment, I saw that I had a choice. I saw an opening that would finally let me choose to leave the horrors of war for a life of peace.
But, far too soon, the moment passed. Azima pulled back and said, “No, no, I can’t do this to you. To either of us. It isn’t fair. I’m sorry, Kyle. I shouldn’t have . . . You have no idea how much I want to do this. But I can’t.”
I felt like I had been punched in the gut. No, I actually had been punched in the gut recently. This felt so much worse.
“Oh, God, I’m such an idiot,” I said. I slapped my forehead. “A stupid, selfish idiot. You’ve only been back in my life for five days and here I am asking you to throw everything away to be with me.”
“You’re not an idiot,” she said in a gentle tone. “That sounds like the greatest offer I’ve ever heard. I want to say yes, to just run away with you for the rest of my life. But I can’t. At least, not like this.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Why not?”
She took a deep breath. “Because I can’t risk jumping into a relationship with a man that I see as my savior. The last time I did that it . . .” She shook her head. “Well, you know how that ended.”
I removed my arm from her waist and brushed her hair back behind her left ear. “Azima, this isn’t the same thing. I know you saw Abbas as your path to freedom from your father, but he was an evil, abusive man.”
“He wasn’t always like that,” she said. “When I first met him, Abbas was a lot like you: charming, handsome, intelligent, daring, and more than a little damaged.”
“I don’t think that’s—”
“Don’t deny it, Kyle. You were seconds away from leaving Nadir’s body on the side of the road. The look in your eyes was . . .” She shuddered. “Let’s just say that I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that look from Abbas.”
“I can’t believe that you’d think that I would ever hurt you,” I whispered.
“You’re a hero, Kyle.” Azima placed her hand on my cheek. “You’re my hero. But there is another side of you, though you might not want to admit it, which enjoys the chaos and destruction. And there is a good reason for it. When the stakes are life or death, you really come alive. That is why you have survived for so long doing what you do, and it is why I am here today giving the most painful speech of my life instead of lying dead in the street in Rastan or in some warehouse in Tartus. But it is also something that could burn out of control without the proper outlet.”
“So let me take up rock climbing on the weekends.” I flashed my most reassuring smile. “I’m not going to become Abbas.”
“I think you’re getting the wrong impression from what I’m trying to say. I’m not afraid that one day I’ll wake up to discover that you’ve become a horrible monster,” she said. “But if I want to make a better life for my son, I have to break the patterns that keep getting me into trouble. I have to change, and I can’t do that if I keep relying on the men in my life to save me from all my troubles.”
“Are you trying to give me the ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ speech? Because I’m having a hard time buying it.”
“Kyle Hoyek, stop that self-pity right now,” she demanded. “I want you to know that I love you. I always have. The thought of life without you is almost unbearable. But you were the only one who could have saved Hashim like you did. There are only a handful of men who would have even tried. And there are thousands of other boys and girls just like Hashim who are in danger and need someone to stand up for them. That is the other reason why this, why we, can’t happen. I can’t keep you away from people who need you simply to satisfy my own happiness.”
“Let someone else protect them. I’ve done my time. Let someone like Vincenzo bear the burden. Let them need him.” I looked in her eyes. “I need you.”
She had to look away. “Oh, Kyle. I need you, too. But there are others who need you more. If someone dies who you could have saved, I think my heart would shatter with guilt.”
“Let it be my choice,” I said. “Let me live with the guilt.”
“I can’t.” She pointed to one of the television screens placed around the waiting area. It was tuned to one of those 24-hour news channels. I couldn’t understand what was being said, but there were images of burning mud-brick homes with grass roofs and
fly-ridden corpses left out in the sun. The landscape wasn’t instantly recognizable, but it appeared to be somewhere in sub-Saharan Africa.
“The world is desperate for hope. They need men like you, someone strong and fearless who will risk his life to defend the defenseless. They need you, Kyle. They deserve a hero.”
I rubbed my jaw. “What about me? What do I deserve?” I recognized the selfishness and jealousy in my words, but I was beyond caring. My dream was becoming a nightmare and I needed answers. “Haven’t I done enough? Haven’t I suffered enough?”
She ran her fingers along my cheek. “Kyle, I don’t want you to suffer. I don’t think God does either.”
I scoffed. “He has a funny way of showing it.”
“God doesn’t want you to suffer, but sometimes pain can be a blessing. You have to experience the negative in order to appreciate the positive.” A sad smile touched her lips. “I have to believe that. It’s the only thing that gives me the strength to tell you this. I love you, Kyle. I want to be with you so badly that I ache at the thought of losing you again. But you have something that I am still searching for. You have a purpose.”
She nodded to the images on the television screen. “You belong there, bringing light and hope to the dark corners of the world. I have to find my own purpose. Maybe, if God allows it, we’ll meet again under different circumstances.”
I stared into her eyes. “I was told that you were moving to America, but I don’t even know which state. It would be a miracle if we ever met again.”
She gave me another kiss, but this time it was on the cheek. As she pulled away, she whispered in my ear, “I believe in miracles.”
I grabbed her hand. “On some level, I understand with what you’re telling me. And my head is telling me that you have a point. But my heart . . .” I struggled to find the words. “I hate feeling so powerless.”
“It’s not about having power,” she replied.
“I know, I know. It’s about having faith,” I finished. I sighed and slumped my shoulders. “I’m just so tired. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
She gently slid her hand out of mine. “Someone once told me that the great thing about becoming a Christian was that you were never truly alone.”
I tried to grin, but my heart wasn’t in it. “I hate it when people turn my own words against me.”
“Well, they were very persuasive,” she said. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small silver pendant in the shape of a cross. It was almost identical to the one my mother wore all those years ago. “See, I brought a gift, too.” She placed it in the center of my palm and closed my fingers around it. “I bought this for myself, as a reminder of all that your family did for mine. But I think that you need it more than I do.”
I balled a fist around the pendant and shoved it into my pocket. “I don’t want a trinket,” I complained. “I want you.”
“I know,” she whispered. “And I want you. I want you more than anything else, even God. And that’s wrong. Any relationship that we start now would only be doomed to failure for that very reason. I’m sorry I had to hurt you like this. It was never something I wanted to do. Someday I hope you’ll realize it was the right decision.”
An announcement came through the overhead speakers. Lufthansa Flight 242 to Munich was beginning its boarding procedure. I couldn’t believe it. I had known this girl, this amazing and beautiful woman, since we were children. I had lost her once, and I was minutes away from losing her again. Part of me screamed to ignore her words and follow her anyway, to start life anew. I shut out that section of my soul. She made her choice and, in a sense, condemned me to mine.
“You should get ready to board,” I told her.
She looked down at the polished linoleum. “I can’t believe we have so little time. There’s so much we never said.”
I put a finger under her chin and gently lifted it so our eyes locked. “At least this time we get to say goodbye.”
I hugged her, and she clung to me like she was drowning. After a moment, she loosened her grip and pulled away so that we were only holding hands. “Goodbye, Kyle.”
“Goodbye, Azima.” She squeezed my hand once, then let me go.
She turned to face Hashim, who was staring out at the various airplanes on the runway. I rested a hand on her shoulder and pointed out the window. The moon was full, and the light bathed everything in a soft glow.
“Oh, Kyle,” she nuzzled my hand. “I’ll miss you.”
“Not as much as I’ll miss you,” I replied.
A tear rolled down one cheek as she stayed pressed against me for another moment. Then, with a visible effort, she took a step toward her son. He saw his mother approach and gestured excitedly to the tarmac, miming the actions of the airplanes as they took off and landed. Azima tousled the boy’s hair and smiled. Another announcement sounded over the speakers, and Azima grabbed her bag. Hashim placed his hand in hers and followed at her heels.
I stood back and watched as the passengers filed through the gate. Azima handed the attendant, a plump and pleasant-looking woman, the tickets. The attendant gave them a professional grin and waved the two through. Azima looked back and gave me a sad, fragile smile.
Then she stepped through the gate and out of my life.
I walked to the broad, encompassing window and watched as the passenger boarding bridge detached from the Boeing 737. The huge aircraft rolled ponderously away from the terminal and toward the runway. I stayed in front of that window until I saw the jumbo jet roar across the tarmac and into the sky. Within seconds, the massive aircraft became just another set of blinking lights in the night.
I stood there for a long time, unwilling to walk through those doors and admit that she was really gone. Unable to accept the fact that, once again, I was on my own. I lost track of time. When I could hardly keep my eyes open, I gave in to the inevitable.
The glass doors to the terminal slid open automatically and a chilly breeze rolled into the warm building. I buttoned my jacket, steeling myself to face the cold world once more. I shoved my hands into my pockets to keep them warm. As I did, my right hand brushed against the pendant Azima had given me. As I traced the outline of the cross with my fingertips, I felt a sense of renewed hope.
Because Azima was right. I wasn’t alone, after all.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ben Schafer lives in central Florida and spends his days fueled by caffeine and sarcasm. He makes a living by helping to bring fantastic worlds to life. If he had free time, he would spend it playing board games with his friends. You can find out more about Ben and his upcoming works at TheBenSchafer.com and by following him on Twitter @TheBenSchafer.
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SPECIAL THANKS
This book’s awesome cover was created by Kelvin Aultman, founder of 5600K Productions and an amazing visual artist
To Amy Schafer, my Social Media Manager and the best sister I could ask for
To my Launch Team: Kristin Cain, Alex Dayan, Forrest Evans, Taylor Giblin, Elizabeth Gomez, Lorena Hernandez, Zachary Levers, Austin Lewis, Melinda Miller, Amy Schafer, Denise St. John, and Elicia Vincent for helping me turn my dream into reality. You’re the best!
To my friends and family who were patient with me as I lost myself in this world I was creating
And to you, my readers, for taking this journey with me. I look forward to continuing our adventure together