Anissa's Redemption

by Zack Love

  Lily dropped her gaze from my eyes for a moment. “But you said that your relationship with her had definitely ended.”

  “It did. But I guess I’m still harboring the hope that we’ll find some way to get back together, and me sleeping with you would only complicate those prospects and sully an otherwise pristine record. So, as tempted as I was to explore and indulge more with you, I suppressed those desires.”

  She forced a silver-lining smile on her lips. “And, in so doing, you proved to yourself that you have self-control.”

  “See that? You validated my decision to find a therapist to whom I was physically attracted – so that we could together study and better understand my sexual behavior in ways that might help me to control it. You’ve fulfilled your purpose!”

  Lily tried to continue smiling as she looked at the clock on the wall and noticed that our time had expired. “Well, I’m glad I could be part of this breakthrough for you,” she said dryly, standing up to give me her cue that our session was over. “Maybe you don’t actually need my services any more now.”

  I followed her to the door, which she held open for me whenever our sessions came to an end.

  I looked intently into her eyes for a moment. “Don’t worry, Lily. We’re not done with each other just yet.” I gave her a playful wink as I walked out the door.

  Chapter 15: Anissa

  Thursday, May 8, 2014

  To My Dearest,

  Now that classes have officially ended, I’ve been super busy cramming for my finals, and my first one, in Masterpieces of Western Literature and Philosophy, is actually tomorrow afternoon. Nevertheless, I’m taking a study break to write to you because there’s so much weighing on my mind, and a lot to catch you up on. Michael and I have been back together for about a week, and – while we’ve enjoyed plenty of make-out sessions – I told him yesterday that I wasn’t ready to take things much further. I explained that my academic focus had completely deteriorated because of so many personal developments – from the breakup with my professor to the horrible news about my family in Kessab – and that I desperately needed to catch up in time for exams. I also noted that my head was still a bit confused so soon after leaving Professor Morales, and I just needed some time to adjust – ideally with minimal emotional drama in my life until I was done with finals.

  Michael was totally understanding and a complete gentleman about the whole thing, noting that he himself was rather behind on his own academics and just about everything else, because of how much the MCA had taken over his life. He also mentioned that he was doing his best to find Syrian rebel contacts who could track down the details of the kidnapper who held my sister – a situation that was now confirmed, unfortunately. I can’t even imagine what poor Maria must be enduring these days and my heart aches every time I think of her.

  Michael already sent money to many potential informants, after allocating the last $50,000 in the MCA’s bank account to get precise information on Maria’s whereabouts and to pay any ransom that might be involved in releasing her. He is even offering the captors some initial money in exchange for allowing a Skype call between her and me, so that I could at least see that she’s still alive. He said that our call may happen even later today, so I’ve been full of anxious anticipation to talk with my sister again.

  Michael decided that he would also be making a trip to Syria soon, both to help with the release of my sister, if and when that could be arranged, and to manage the countless details that he was having trouble overseeing from afar: coordination among different Christian militia groups, ensuring their proper military and related training, developing and communicating policies for sharing certain emergency resources that MCA had purchased, church repair projects, etc.

  I told Michael that as soon as I was done with my exams, I wanted to work for the MCA on a full-time basis during my summer break, helping however I could in New York. Michael was of course delighted, and offered to pay me a decent salary for the summer, as soon as more funds came in. My duties would include fundraising (but from sources other than Professor Morales, whom Michael and I both wanted to avoid), new member recruitment, managing MCA’s social media accounts, and helping with the organization of political activism (rallies, letter-writing campaigns, etc.). Most students were trying to get summer internships at prestigious companies, law firms, investment banks, management consulting companies, or working for members of Congress, but I decided that helping the MCA would be the most personally rewarding thing I could do, and it would still offer plenty of high-level experience to sound impressive on my resume.

  I have to leave now for the Psychology and Markets final exam review session being offered by our TA. I really don’t want to see her but I’m behind in the class and skipping this session would only disadvantage me relative to all of the students who attend it. I should also try to be more indifferent about her – I’m over Professor Morales and could really care less who else he was sleeping with or which women may be in his bed these days. I’ll try to find the time to write a bit more when I return.

  * * *

  My review session made me realize just how behind I am in Psychology and Markets, but something far more important came up soon after I got back to my dorm room: I was able to see Maria on Skype, along with Michael, who had arranged the video conference call! Her captors, standing behind her wearing masks and holding Kalashnikovs, don’t speak English, so that’s what she used to talk to me for the five minutes that they allowed her to communicate with me. From the moment that I saw her appear on my laptop, I was crying tears of relief and sorrow for all that she had been through, which I could only imagine from her sad, weary eyes. But there was no time for her to give me the whole story, so she just rushed to the most important updates.

  “Inās, please listen carefully because you must know what happened, in case this is the last time we speak,” she said, breaking down in tears. “Because there’s no one else who can tell you what happened.”

  “No, Maria, you mustn’t say that.” I started sobbing even harder. “This isn’t the last time. I will see you again soon – in person. You mustn’t give up hope!”

  “Inās, hope has not helped us. Because Antoun, Uncle Luke, and his whole family,” she choked up again. “They were all gunned down by Islamic State fighters who stopped us as we were fleeing Kessab from the attacks.”

  My face shriveled up in horror. “Oh no! What are you saying, Maria?”

  “I... I survived only because, after they robbed us all of our money and possessions, including the two minivans we were traveling in, one of the attackers decided... He decided that he wanted to take me as his wife. So he pulled me aside and then his men murdered everyone else in our family.”

  We were both in tears when I saw one of the two masked men take her away, her arm flailing back towards the laptop she had been talking to me through, as my hand reached out and touched my computer screen. The other abductor appeared where my sister had been sitting and spoke to me in Arabic, informing me that the deal was five minutes for $5,000, and that we had already spoken for five minutes. He then warned Michael and me that he would kill her by the end of the month if we didn’t pay their $100,000 ransom. The captor ominously suggested that Maria’s suffering would be minimized if, within the next forty-eight hours, Michael confirms through his intermediary that he can make the payment so that they can agree on an exchange mechanism.

  Chapter 16: Julien

  Sunday, 5/11/14 at 19:27.

  Today in therapy, Lily wanted to focus on my issues of trust, which became that much more interesting to explore because she and I have established that there’s some tempting chemistry between us, even if we have both decided – at least for now – not to succumb to it.

  “Are you ready finally to delve into our favorite topic?” she asked, with an ironic smile.

  “You mean my childhood?”

  She nodded with a look that seemed braced for my usual refusal.

  “Did you final
ly visit a slaughterhouse?” I rejoined. “Can you show me some photos of your visit?”

  “I may just call your bluff, Julien. What will you do then?”

  “I will honor the promise implicit in my original challenge: if you show me some photos of your first visit to a slaughterhouse, then I’ll tell you more about my childhood.”

  Her lip rose slightly, as if with defiant determination. “OK. We may be testing that promise sooner than you think. But in the meantime, you should realize that you’re just cheating yourself by linking our discussion of your childhood to your evangelism about the virtues of vegetarianism.”

  “It’s not really about vegetarianism. As I’ve told you before, you can’t really fully understand my childhood trauma without witnessing the horrors of animal butchery.”

  “And that’s the only reason I plan to visit a slaughterhouse soon. But I really hope you’ll keep your end of the bargain, because you’ll never be able to get close to any woman – whether it’s Anissa or anyone else – until you confront your past.”

  “I know. But, believe it or not, I have pushed myself to be more trusting, even though the selfie scandal seriously damaged the little faith that I did have in others. And I’m worried that my decision to be more trusting – even if it was for a much nobler cause this time – is going to come back to bite me again.”

  Preparing for some new disclosures, Lily picked up her pen and positioned it above her yellow pad. “What do you mean?”

  She began noting things about my account as I relayed it to her. “Last Friday, the homeless Iraq War veteran, Craig, who had really helped me during the week after the selfie scandal, had a violent flashback at my office – not even a month after I had hired him as a security guard for the JMAT lobby area.”

  “What exactly happened?”

  “A courier arrived at the JMAT lobby with a big, red pouch of documents. I guess something about the man’s face or uniform, or maybe the appearance and size of his parcel triggered a flashback in Craig, transporting him back to some traumatic event involving a bomb in a package.”

  Lily looked up from her note-taking. “This is based on some discussion with him that you had afterwards?”

  “Yes. And he also told me about that bomb incident when we first became acquainted.”

  “How did Craig’s flashback manifest itself?”

  “He reportedly started telling everyone in the lobby to clear the area because of a bomb threat, before seizing the pouch, hurling it to the side, and tackling the poor courier to the ground, where he proceeded to beat him. The people in the lobby were obviously very confused and alarmed, but they soon realized that there was no bomb and that Craig had gone out of his mind. Some people rushed to pull him off the battered courier, and managed to restrain him until the police arrived to take Craig into custody.”

  Lily put down her pen and gave me an empathetic look. “I’m sorry things turned out that way... What sort of consequences are you expecting?”

  “Oh, I’m sure there will be lawsuits against my fund and even me personally, for hiring someone who was obviously a risk. But much worse than any legal damages I’ll have to pay is the headline risk.”

  “You think he would disclose details that might embarrass you when talking to the police?”

  “Not intentionally. And I got him a lawyer. But who knows what he might have said to the cops before the lawyer showed up? Even if he revealed nothing, reporters always have a way of digging up whatever details you’d rather keep private. So they’ll have a field day with this one.”

  “Well, you should know not to take it personally. Exposing the flaws of the rich and powerful sells more newspapers.”

  I shook my head, disappointed at myself. “It was really stupid of me. We have one of the most rigorous background checks and hiring processes on Wall Street, and I basically gave this guy a pass because I felt sorry for him and he had helped me at my lowest and weakest moment. Sometimes I think trust is just the triumph of emotion over reason.”

  She exhaled and shook her head a little. “Julien, you can’t let one very unusual incident turn you into a complete cynic. That sounds more like a lapse in your judgment than a good reason to trust people less.”

  “But when it comes to decisions involving people, isn’t every case of bad judgment basically an instance of misplaced trust?”

  “I suppose. But I suspect that your real fear of trust began with your father – someone who should have been safe for you, but wasn’t.”

  “That’s true,” I conceded.

  Later, after our time together had ended, when she was holding the door open for me, we again entered the most awkward moment of each session – the farewell, after which we had technically left the therapist-client context. The physical space between us was at its narrowest point then, and our self-control was more tested than ever.

  As I looked down into Lily’s radiant blue eyes, passing her close enough to stop for an embrace that would bring me into contact with her gorgeous breasts, I thought to myself, “We proved that we can control ourselves after touching hands... Do you think we could handle a hug?”

  She smiled, with a look that almost dared me to say it. “Goodbye, Julien. See you next week.”

  “Until next time, Lily.”

  Chapter 17: Anissa

  Monday, May 12, 2014

  To My Dearest,

  I just woke up from a desperately needed, four-hour nap. I literally crashed into my bed, after staying up for nearly thirty consecutive hours, catching up and studying for, and then finally taking my Psychology and Markets final, which certainly lived up to its reputation for difficulty. I was originally planning to sleep for at least a few hours before the exam, but I was too worried and nervous about it to relax enough for sleep, so I just kept studying the whole time. Ever since breaking things off with my professor, I was no longer so sure I could feel comfortable working at JMAT, so the pressure I had placed on myself to remain his star student faded a bit. And after everything that has happened with Maria (I’ll get to that soon), it became that much harder to care about my finals or give them the necessary priority. But I was still nervous about doing well enough to avoid a bad grade, and I have to make one last effort to stay focused, because I still have my Economics final in four days. I think my first final, in Masterpieces of Western Literature and Philosophy, went reasonably well, and hope the same is true of Introduction to American Government and Politics, but I won’t know for sure until I get my final grades for those courses.

  Now to the more urgent news. My sister’s abductors had menacingly suggested that Michael confirm – within forty-eight hours – that he can make the $100,000 ransom payment to minimize Maria’s suffering between now and her eventual release. Right after that call, Michael and I met to discuss how to get the necessary funds in time, since at that point the MCA had only about $45,000 left in its account and it was clear to both of us that there was no way I would be going to Professor Morales for help with this. Michael offered to pitch in his personal savings of about $20,000, but that still left a $25,000 shortfall. I called Uncle Tony, feeling guilty that I hadn’t been in touch in over a month, and explained the situation to him, asking him to contribute whatever remained of the $10,000 my father had wired him for my stay.

  He sounded upset. “Inās, before we get to the matter of money, how is that you’re telling me only now that Maria has been kidnapped in Syria?”

  I took a hard swallow as I spoke into my cell phone. “I’m so sorry, Uncle Tony. I found out myself only recently, and I’ve been trying to figure out what to do. And I know that I really should have stayed in touch more over the last month, but finals have been incredibly stressful and sort of took over my life.”

  I could tell from Uncle Tony’s silence – which contrasted starkly from his typically jovial manner – that he was upset by the news.

  I eventually continued. “I’m just hoping that I still have some of the money my father sent you that I can
contribute towards her ransom.”

  “That money was all used up, Inās.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I should send you a bill for the shortfall, but we’ll leave that for another time, when there’s no one around to mow the lawn or do the laundry,” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little. “But, fortunately for Maria, she has an uncle in New York who has no idea what else to do with the $25,000 sitting in his bank account.”

  I let out a much needed laugh. “So you can help with the money we still need?”

  “Did you really think I was going to say no?”

  “Well, I just wasn’t sure if you’d have the money available.”

  “Inās, when it comes to family, there’s always a way. Besides, if Maria isn’t released, who’s going to call me when you have your final exams?” I laughed again at his teasing ways and remembered how much I missed his company.

  After we discussed the banking logistics of getting Uncle Tony’s funds to the MCA, he naturally asked about Antoun, and I had to tell him that he and all of Uncle Luke’s family were murdered after fleeing Kessab. It was a gut-wrenching conversation that I was hoping to avoid until after finals, but we stayed on the phone for another hour, crying together about our loss and exchanging memories of my younger brother – whose prankster ways and obsession with football had often led my parents to compare him to Uncle Tony.

  Chapter 18: Anissa

  Monday, May 19, 2014

  To My Dearest,

  Sorry that I haven’t written to you in a while – I’ve been working nonstop trying to help Michael with countless projects in Syria, including the most important one of all: securing the release of my sister. We learned that she is being held by Jabhat Al-Nusra fighters in Salma, a small village in northwest Syria whose control was split between moderate and jihadi rebels. For what it’s worth, I neglected myself as much as you – my birthday was exactly one week ago and I literally did nothing for it, although Michael did remember to call me and sing me a happy birthday over Skype, which was very sweet of him.