I am posting the last bit of 'kiddo' for a long while. It's a story too close to my heart and I fear I cannot write any more for quite some time. I thank you for reading and hope sincerely that you've enjoyed. I promise, in time to post more, however for now this will have to do. It's quite a few pages so please feel free to read it over time, I just can't bring myself to post it in smaller chunks.
I am humbled that you've taken interest in this and I am fully grateful. With sincere thanks... please enjoy.
JRA
طفل
The photographs he now had in his possession needed to get out into the world. He desperately needed to get a hold of John and get him the pictures, not all of them, of course. There were a select few he would send personally to National Geographic, when the time was right. He would honor, he had thought, the deal he had make and get the pictures and story to the New York Times and he would do this for Tamman. But for any of this to transpire he needed to get back to his hotel, to his laptop and phone. It crossed his mind that his phone might be broken; either way there was a phone in his suite. He set down his camera to inspect the torso wound. It hurt persistently and he needed to know what he was dealing with. He found where the bandage was tied off, picking at it blindly. He was sweating pain and aggravation by the time the knot was undone. He breathed for a moment then carefully unraveled it, pain shooting through him again at the slightest swivel of his body. The stain appeared darker the closer it got to his skin, each layer sticking on the coagulating layer beneath it.
How bad is this going to be?
The bandage was almost entirely off and he braced himself for what lay beneath the final layer. He pulled at it very gently, in extreme pain as it pulled away from the wound and there it was. He almost passed out at the sight of it. A gash almost a foot long ran up and down the side of him; the white of his rib bones visible through the red and jaundice of the blood and pus. He struggled to breathe.
‘You should not be doing that!’ A woman’s voice scolded him from the threshold of the room. She charged over and grabbing the back of his head gently laid him back down grabbing up all of the old gauze.
‘Who are you?’ he asked sheepishly.
‘I am Sayid’s sister, Layla’ she replied matter-of-factly. ‘And now we need to redress this’ She inspected the wound and she liked its progress.
‘It is nice to see you awake’ she said.
Her words struck fear in his heart.
‘How long have I been here?’ he asked not really wanting the answer he thought he might get.
‘You’ve been in and out now for four days’ she reported.
His white pain, searing the exposed muscle and bone, did not supersede the panic blanketing his body’s innards. His mind jumped to Her, what She might be struggling with thought-wise, without word or contact of any sort. Shameful guilt wadded his marrow; the sort of guilt one is powerless to, the seething, encompassing, tyrant-esque guilt that is caused by hurting someone without want to do so, however its reprobation devastating.
'What time is it?' He asked, trying to judge the amount of light coming in through the window; an impossible game for here, as if it was sunny it would remain so till dusk.
'5:30' Layla replied while fetching clean gauze from the bureau. He had missed his flight, by a full day. He would have landed hours ago and he had little doubt that she would be calling the car company, the airline, his hotel, demanding his whereabouts, quickly to understand that he hadn't made his flight and that he hadn't been to his hotel in days.
'Sayid!' He called out, scaring Layla.
He made a sudden move to get off the bed impeded by the pain. 'Jesus Christ!' he yelled. Sayid came running into the room. Layla dropped the bandages and was prepared to physically restrain him.
'Habbibi! You must calm down.' Sayid said moving towards him.
'I have to go! I have to get back to my hotel! I have to call her! My parents. My brother. Her. I need to go! Is my phone broken? Can I use your phone? Fucking Christ!’ The pain cratered his being, his body not responding to the will of his mind. Mountainous peeks of frustration formed in his chest expelling the air from his lungs. His lips trembling with anger, the breakfront of tears on the cusps of their ducts.
'I will get you to your hotel. We will go. I have a phone that you can use, but first we have to redress this wound and you need to eat to build up your strength'
Of total exhaustion, His body relaxed, his eyes however fixed with caged ferocity screaming in their unblinking silence.
It was almost dark by the time Layla had redressed both of his bandages and Sayid bullied him into eating a plate of hummus and pita bread, which he ate ravenously not having had eaten any substantial food other then soup for the past four days. Sayid gave him some clothes to wear in place of the blood stained remnants of his own, which he needed help to put on. When he limped into the bathroom and saw for the first time his face, he was stunned at the sight of himself. Pale and gaunt, his facial hair had grown into a half beard, his eyes, the nucleus of dark circles. He looked away quickly, not caring what he now looked like. He needed to get out of there, back to his hotel but pressingly he wanted to call Her. When he emerged from the washroom he found Sayid standing in the hall with a phone in his hand and a devilish grin on his face.
‘Call Her, Habbibi. She is most certainly worried’. Sayid said, handing him the phone.
‘Thank you Sayid.’ He rejoined, truly feeling indebted to this man who had now saved his life twice.
The phone felt heavy in his hand as he punched in Her cell number.
Dialing the last of her number, his face went dead cold with sweat. A stabbing pain in his stomach doubled him over, his mouth opened to scream, blood vomit rushed out in place of his sounds. He dropped the phone, still one last number to dial, hit the ground on all fours and heaved a second tidal wave of blood vomit. Sayid jumped back horrified and screamed for Layla.
After He had emptied his stomach and saw what his body had just expelled, his body shook with freezing death fear. He tried to speak, to form the words he needed to speak but only the garbled noise of breath through blood surfaced.
Layla came running into the hall from the kitchen, and as soon as she saw the color of his vomit her eyes widened then narrowed with instant focus.
'Sayid! We need to get him to the hospital! He's bleeding internally' she spoke quickly in their native tongue. They had kept him away from the hospital originally as to steer clear of any involvement with the attack and because Layla had told her brother that she could tend to his wounds just as well as they could. Now she feared that her decision could kill this man that she barely knew but wanted to know desperately once he was well again. She pushed her selfish thoughts aside moving towards him, using the dishrag she had in her hands to wipe his mouth and all of her strength to gather him up.
Sayid sidestepped the pool of blood to help her.
He was dead weight, yet they managed to get him up. 'Habbibi, stay here with us, stay awake, okay?' Sayid told Him as they clumsily inched to the door, the light fading from His eyes.
Halfway down the four flights of stairs, they had to stop. He heaved but very little came out.
'We have to hurry!' Layla announced as if Sayid hadn't understood the dire importance of getting him to the hospital. Layla looked scared when normally she would have been calm and realizing this, Sayid felt for the first time that his friend might not make it!
Once in the car, Sayid drove faster then he'd ever driven in his life, narrowly missing several cars and two people riding double on a scooter. Layla was too preoccupied to even notice as she tried to keep him conscious, tried to keep him alive.
Sayid sped into the emergency loading area, ignoring signs prohibiting vehicles other than ambulances to enter, skidded to a stop, and was out of the car screaming for a doctor for help as he opened the back door to help Layla get Him out of the car. By the time they had him standing again, a porter and nurse came running out with a gurney. Layla knew the nurse; they had worked together several times.
As they hoisted him onto the wheeled bed, Layla prattled off his heart rate and other medical preliminaries and they rushed inside leaving Sayid alone at his car, the front and back doors ajar. He took a moment to send up a prayer to Allah to keep his friend safe.
Inside Layla, the nurse and porter were joined by a young-faced doctor. An American, Layla noticed, though his Arabic was quite good. The nurse relayed the information Layla had told her and the doctor ripped open His shirt to check his stomach. It was bloated and his pulse was dropping. 'Let's get him to the O.R. right now.' The doctor ordered. They turned down a hall, through a big set of doors with a faster pace now.
As they neared another set of doors the nurse turned and stopped Layla from going any further. 'Layla, let them do their best,’ the nurse said lovingly, seeing how shaken she was. ‘You have to wait in the waiting room, like the others. I'm done work shortly. I’ll come and wait with you.'
'Thank you Jasmine' Layla rejoined. 'I shall be waiting with my brother.
In the operating room, the doctor cut into his stomach. Blood spilled from the incision. His heart struggled to beat.
Jasmine had stayed for two hours waiting in silence mostly with Layla and Sayid. Before she left them and the hospital, she had a co-worker get an update. There had been a complication, which they managed, but it would still be an hour or so before they had him all cleaned up, ready to be stitched.
Layla sat, exhausted, watching Sayid sleep awkwardly on the hard plastic chairs in the waiting room. She wondered how he could sleep at a time like this, how his nerves hadn't gotten the better of him. The more she thought about it the more aggravated it made her until finally she picked a magazine and threw it at him. Sayid jolted from his sleep when it hit him. 'Why would you do that?' he demanded. But before she could scold him, the American doctor came into the waiting room. Both she and Sayid straightened up into a more fortified posture to battle horrible news.
In his impeccable Arabic he introduced himself as Doctor Young, fittingly.
'The man you brought in.' he almost asked.
'Our friend' Sayid offered.
The doctor nodded his head. 'Your friend had some internal bleeding in the abdomen which we were able to stop and repair. However, his left lung collapsed during the operation. It was pierced by bone which made things difficult.'
'Doctor, is he okay?' Layla asked, unable to wait any longer.
'I've done the best I can. I've stopped the bleeding and repaired his lung. If we can keep infection from poisoning him, he should make it.’
'I don't understand. Why would he have any infection?' Layla asked, her pride stinging.
'The bone that pierced his lung wasn't his'. The doctor said, his face expecting answers.
It became a stand off for a few moments until Sayid broke the silence.
'When can we see our friend?'
The doctor was about to speak but cut himself off, sighed, then spoke looking at his watch. `He'll need to rest tonight. Perhaps you'll be able to see him in the morning. You'll have to excuse me now' and he was gone.
Layla turned to face her brother. He already knew what she was thinking, smiled at her, and the two made their way to the nurse’s station. Layla was able to use her I.D. and her friendships with other nurses to gain them access to his room.
Sayid had expected to see Him on a respirator, however he only had on a small clear plastic breathing mask.
The nurse that had lead them to His room explained that he would most likely be sleeping for sometime and then come in and out of consciousness. He was on a substantial amount of painkillers.
Layla, standing next to the bed, took his hand in hers. His left hand she noticed had been re-bandaged, thorough that American doctor had been. Sayid put a hand on her shoulder, 'We should go' he whispered.
She wanted to cry for Him. Just hours ago her heart soared when he had come to, and seemed to be no worse for wear. Now he laid there, his body even more broken. A voice speaking from the back of her mind repeated evermore that this was her fault. She stood, letting his hand fall from hers and without letting Sayid see her face. She thanked her co-worker and left the room.
طفل
The house was busy with bodies and talking. Luke had called his parents when he left the airport with the outrageous news and they had made it to Her house before she did. Their son was lost in a foreign land, coming together to act as a buttress for one another was simply instinctual. Together they would find him.
Amy had arrived as well, for she was family through and through. Amy was Her best friend and had been for as long as either of them could remember. They had met in grade two, became great friends and their bond had pulled them through everything good and bad throughout the years. When Amy walked into the house and saw worry behind Her reddened eyes, she steeled herself for her friends sake and gave Her a loving hug.
Suddenly they all found themselves in the kitchen trying to figure out their next move. She pulled the information for His hotel from the fridge where it had been the whole time, the idea of which made her angry, and called it. She was told that his room had been put on lockout for he had not been seen in days, and all of his luggage and gear remained in the room past his checkout time. She had the receptionist explain how the lockout worked. Because he hadn’t properly checked out on his prescribed checkout date and still had belongings in the suite, a day’s grace was given then the room was put on lockout for a maximum time of two weeks. Should he return to get his things his key card would not work, hence the lockout, and he would have to speak with reception to rectify the bill and receive a new key. It was an insurance procedure for the hotel; however the woman sounded genuinely concerned and empathetic to Her situation.
She asked to be transferred to his suite, grasping at straws. The receptionist reaffirmed that He was not there yet when She raised her voice. `Please! Can you transfer me?’ She was transferred at once. The receptionist apologized before doing so. It rang four times and a voice mail answered.
After Her failed call to the hotel, Luke had thought to call John, his brother’s agent.
‘John Zimmerman!’ he answered with his usual hurried speech.
Luke explained who he was, even though Luke had met him several times and even had dinner with him twice. John seemed to be half listening until, he dropped his brother’s name.
‘God Damn it! Have you heard from him?’ John spat out quickly.
‘That’s the why I’m calling you. He wasn’t on his flight and He hasn’t been seen at the hotel for days now.’ Luke explained.
‘I know. My secretary has been calling His hotel everyday. He wasn’t on His flight?’ Hearing concern in John’s voice seemed unnatural. John always seemed to be in a terrible hurry with everything, forever impatient.
‘I don’t know what else to do? Do you know what I should do, I mean before I jump on a flight over there?’ Luke asked.
‘Son-of-a-bitch! What the hell would you do once you got there? Just walk around aimlessly, looking for him. No. He was going to contact a friend of his over there. Shit! What was his name? You know what? Let me call you back. Give me your number’ John demanded, took down the number. ‘Okay’, and hung up without saying goodbye.
That had been over an hour ago and now Luke’s father was on the phone to the Canadian embassy in Syria, struggling with whom ever was on the other end of the line, as Luke listened eagerly. His mother was busying herself with food prep, most likely just wanting to keep distracted, trying to block out any thoughts that might try to materialize about her son and what might have happened to Him.
Amy sat with Her as she spoke to her mother on her cell, bringing her up to speed on what was happening, trying to sound as calm as possible. Amy was doing her best to be strong, though she too felt sick to her stomach that something could have happened to Him. The idea that her best friend could face such a horrific loss gave her goose bumps and made her heart pain.
When she got off the phone with her mother, she took a deep breath and stood suddenly. ‘I can’t breath in here, I need some fresh air.’ She left the room purposefully, almost jarringly, so that all the existing din stopped abruptly.
Once outside, she took in deep breaths, trying to compose herself and figure out the next step. As she breathed in, it only served to bring on the constriction of anxiety, until she was forced to speak out loud, just to accomplish the act of breathing.
‘Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’ She gripped the railing of their back deck tightly and looked to the starry night sky as if an answer would be scrolled into the stars. She heard the door creak behind her and turned to find His mother standing there drying her hands on a dishtowel. As if pulled to her, she found herself burying her face into her shoulder as they hugged.
‘He’ll find his way home, honey,’ His mother said with the purest certainty. `I know my son, and he’ll come back.’
Her chest heaved with sobs, yet His mother remained calm, holding her fast against the shutters of crying so wholly. The door creaked again behind them and one by one, Amy, Luke, and his father made their way outside. Amy was the first to join their embrace and then Luke and finally as if to anchor the situation the Patriarch, His father joined, embracing them all with his strength.
Together, they were willing the safe return of their son, brother, friend and Lover, and as if their request was heard by the Gods themselves, the phone rang.
She picked up the phone on the third ring by the time she made her way into the kitchen.
‘Hello!’ She said expectantly.
‘Hello?’ a thick accented voice said, sounding distant.
It was Sayid, she recognized the voice instantly.
Had he hooked up with him over there? Was that His contact?
‘Sayid! Tell me He’s okay! Tell me you know where he is! Oh my God, tell me he’s alive!’ she said her voice shaky with desperation.
‘Habbibi, He is alive. I’m looking at him right now. He sleeps, but he is very much alive.’ Sayid spoke as if smiling.
‘Where is He? Why did he miss his flight? Why has he not been back to his hotel in days? What’s happening, Sayid?’ She said making three questions one.
‘He was shooting his work and something happened, but he is safe and alive and he wanted to call you but something happened and I wanted to call you but I knew not your number but then Mr. Zimmerman called me and gave me your number and so I’m calling to tell you that everything is fine and that he will call you very soon. He just needs to rest, and then he will call, I swear to you.’ Sayid said all of this, as a child would explain away to their parents how a window got broken.
‘Sayid! Why can’t I speak to him?’ She demanded.
‘He needs to sleep, but do trust me, He is fine-‘
The line went dead.
‘Sayid! Sayid!’ She heard the dial tone. ‘Fuck!’
She slammed the phone down hard. Then picked it back up and slammed it down several more times until the plastic began to break apart.
His mother rushed to Her and grabbed the phone from her hands at the same time taking her into her arms calming her.
‘Honey… who was that? What did they say?’ she asked. Everyone else waited with bated breath.
‘He’s alive’ She responded, the words registering for the first time. ‘I don’t know what the story is but he’s alive. That was a friend of ours and he said that He’ll call soon. He just needs to rest.’ She told everyone, Luke clapped his hands together loudly and yelled, ’I fucking knew it!’
Luke’s father hugged his wife as she covered her face with her hands. Amy reached her hand towards Hers. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.
‘Yeah’ she thought about it. ‘Yeah… I am’ She said smiling, then hugged Amy as hard as she could, taking solace in the idea that Her man would call in the coming hours, sooner than later She hoped and pushed away all the questions she had for him and enjoyed the fact that he was alive. That they would fight again, laugh again and she would be able to tell him that she loved him face to face.
طفل
Sayid checked his phone, the call had been dropped, but he had said what he had needed to say and at least She knew that He was safe and alive. Sayid was grateful that John the agent had called, otherwise he wouldn’t have thought to call. He remembered meeting her for the first time. She was a very pretty girl, with sunburned nose and cheeks. He hoped then and there that he would one day get to see her again and properly explain away the past couple of days, with a laugh, over a cold drink.
Layla entered the room from the hall and spoke to her brother in their native tongue.
‘The nurses say that he is doing much better today’ She handed Sayid a small cup of strong coffee.
‘I’ve let his Girlfriend and family back home know that he is alright’ he informed Layla, then continued, ‘will you stay with Him while I take care of some things?’
‘What would you have to take care of, right now?’ she asked scoldingly, the word girlfriend ringing in her ears.
Sayid smirked at his sister’s tone, and then explained gently. ‘His agent, John, asked me to go to the hotel and gather His things and make sure the bill was closed out. Don’t worry! Everything is paid for. John called the hotel and told them I was coming by. I’ll return shortly’
‘Oh.’ She felt a momentary guilt. ‘I will remain here.’
Sayid laughed and kissed her on the cheek. ‘If He wakes, tell him everything is ok and that I’ll be back with his things’ he said and was gone.
Layla stood alone in the hospital room looking at Him, asleep, and wondered who this woman was.
What was she like?
How pretty was she?
How much did she make Him laugh?
Sayid had never mentioned a girlfriend, and now as Layla thought on the situation she felt so sorry for Her, not knowing what was happening so far from Him. As she felt this, she also felt envy and hoped that whoever She was, she was good to Him and knew what she had. Layla sat herself down next to His bed and stared out the window.
Call Her.
You have to call her now. The thought was a sling shot to consciousness. He spoke before his eyes were even open.
'I need a phone' he scratched, his voice hoarse from lack of use.
Sayid and Layla stood and leaned over him, he opened his eyes.
'I need a phone' He repeated, the words sounding more like they were supposed to. He cleared his throat, prepared to repeat it once more when Sayid reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell.
'Habbibi, what is the number?' he asked while dialing the overseas digits.
He got half way through the number before he needed water, which Layla had at the ready, after drinking he continued.
As the phone rang he cleared his throat again and winced in pain as he attempted to sit up.
'Hello?' She answered hopefully.
'Hey you!' he said in almost a whisper.
'Oh my God!' He could hear her start to cry. 'Where are you? What happened? I was so scared! I thought I'd lost you! Oh my God I love you! What happened?' she spoke with joy, anger and relief.
'I'm okay, babe. I just got hurt, but I'm okay.' He reassured her.
'Hurt?' she gasped 'What do you mean, hurt?'
'I'm okay. I'll explain everything when I get home' he struggled.
'When are you coming home?'
'I'll be home real soon'
'Oh my god, you're okay though, right?'
'Yeah, I'm okay. I just wanted to let you know that I’m okay and that I love you.’
‘Oh my God, I’m so glad that you’re safe’ she wept.
I’m safe. I’m just really tired, but I wanted to hear your voice and let you know that I’m okay. Can I call you later?'
'Please. Please call me as soon as you can. Everyone’s been here worried about you.’
‘Tell them I’m okay. I love you.’ He said sounding as though sleep was on him.
‘I love you so much. I was so scared!’
‘Don’t be scared, love. I wouldn’t do anything crazy like die on you’
‘Not funny’ she laugh cried. ‘I miss you. I cannot wait to see you.’
‘I’m slipping, I need to rest. I’ll call you back in a bit okay?’
‘Please call me soon.'
'I will, I love you’
‘I love you too’
‘Ok, Bye, you’ He hung up the phone not wanting to and failed at not shedding any tears, then was pulled into sleep, He closed his eyes and went down for a few more hours.
When he woke the second time he had more energy and was far less groggy. His instinct was to call Her but he didn’t have the strength to unfold his story just yet, so against his hearts judgment, he waited.
He managed with Sayid’s help to transfer the shots from his camera to his laptop and post them to his website, creating a secure link that he could send to his agent, which he did. However, he kept several of his favorite shots in a separate location on his laptop. Once all of that was in place he called John to explain the situation and instruct him on what was to be done with his work. John gave him an earful, which He understood as John's way of showing him that he cared. John promised to call the New York Times and said he'd call back on Sayid’s cell when word came. Before getting off the phone John asked how much longer he would be stuck in the hospital and He told him he hadn’t the slightest clue but would let him know as soon as he did.
He ate some solid food for the first time in days while he chatted with Sayid and Layla. The food was hard to find so late at night. He talked about home, his family but he spoke the most about his Girl. He boasted about her really. How proud he was of her and her accomplishments at law school, how he had always been attracted to her smarts as well as what he knew to be her perfect looks. Sayid had met her and knew most of these things but simply figured his friend missed her badly and just needed to talk about her. The prospect of getting home seemed to be speeding the plow of his recovery.
The next day Sayid had arrived with pastries that Layla had made and sent with him. Layla had decided to stay at home and tend to some chores, or at least that was her story. The doctor had been by that morning and had told Him that everything looked really good, that he might be well enough to fly in three or four days. The idea of having to wait that much longer before he could get home was frustrating but at least he was alive.
He called his girl when the doctor left using the hospital phone and his credit card. He had a chance to explain that an explosion had happened and he was knocked out by the blast and had hurt his hand but that Sayid had brought him back to his place to look after him. He had gone on to explain that the force of the blast made him bleed internally so he collapsed and again was saved by Sayid. She asked after the extent of the injuries and he played it down as though it were merely some bumps and bruises. It wasn't exactly what had happened but it bought him enough time to get home and tell her the truth.
She insisted that He thank Sayid with hugs and her kind words. Tell him that whenever he'd like to come to Toronto he had a place to stay. He promised and then broke the news about having to stay yet another four days. She sounded upset but accepted it as it was. He told her how badly he missed her and she repeatedly told him she loved him. He promised to call later in the evening and they unwillingly said goodbye.
Now sitting with Sayid the two of them shared a laugh over past times had together. It hurt Him to laugh but Sayid’s retelling was just too good. As he said
He would, he thanked Sayid for everything he had done for him and relayed his Girls kind words and the invitation to come to Toronto. Sayid thanked him and warned that he may very well just take them up on it.
They sat quietly for a moment. Until Sayid’s cell broke the silence.
'Excuse me Habbibi' Sayid stood to leave the room. He made it to the door then spun on a dime and handed the phone to Him.
'It is your agent' Sayid said handing him the phone.
'John' He said
'Listen to me and fucking listen to me good!' John barked into the phone. 'I don’t know how you did it, and truthfully I don't give good god damn'.
'What's up John?' He asked feeling nervous.
'So I check out the picture you sent me, not my cup of tea, but I did as you specified in your email. I sent them to the New York Times, they called me instantly, which happens when? I don't know! They offered you 150 k to buy three of your shots outright. One hundred and fifty thousand!' John screamed into the phone. He could picture John pacing his office, waving his hands while talking.
'Did you just hear what I said?' John asked baffled
'I did but I'm guessing there's more' He said to John and winked at Sayid
'Oh there’s so much more kid! I do some quick math on the fly and figure they want those shots to sell to every Goddamn paper in the western world so I laughed into the phone. Bullshit! Then get this, I say. Listen, we'll only part with those shots for a million!'
All of a sudden He felt no pain at all. 'You've got to be kidding me!' He said
'Yes and no. I asked for a million but the buyer said, look I’ll level with you, he was only authorized to go up to 600 thou! Three photos. Sold! Congratulations buddy. You're gonna be big time!' John said laughing over the phone.
He could hardly believe all of this was happening. This is what it must feel like to win the lottery. He looked over at Sayid who was watching the phone conversation expectantly, smiled and gave him the thumbs up with His bandaged hand.
'John that amazing, you're the best' He admitted
'Not just yet. This whole thing just keeps getting weirder and weirder. Not an hour after I make the deal, the papers had yet to be signed, I get a visit from two agents, you know the government guys in suits. One’s from CISIS the other FBI. They asked if I represent you. They knew your name and address and everything and wanted to know where they can find you. What's this all about? I ask. They tell me that they would like to see the original digital files from your camera of the pictures I just sold to the NYT so that they can confirm that this guy – this terrorist- is who they believe he is and that he’s dead. Babe, this guy was a ghost and somehow you fucking stroll in and take pictures of him fucking dying. I love you! Anyway their sending people to pick you up as we speak and they'll be flying you home tonight.' John said nearly out of breath
'John! Am I in trouble?' he asked
'Fuck no! You're a fucking hero. Call me tomorrow and I'll swing by your place with a giant check! Good work kid'.
John hung up before He had a chance to ask the multitude of questions that he had.
'Well? It is good. They will print them in the New York Times?' Sayid asked
'Yup. And most every paper in the world'.
'That's great news!' Sayid clapped his hands together.
'Sayid, listen to me, the government, I don't know, the U.S. government is sending agents here to get me. I don't know, to question me. I think you should go, just to be safe. I'll tell them that I met Tamman by accident. I'll leave you out of it. I just don't want them to think you have ties with these types of people.' He spoke quickly and quietly.
Sayid’s face went white.
'I'll send word to you when I can from Toronto but I think you should go!' He spoke without blinking. Sayid agreed and took his good hand in his. 'Habbibi, you be safe'
'Sayid, thank Layla for me and thank you again my friend, I hope to see you soon' He said sincerely
Sayid smiled, 'You will' and slipped out of the room. As Sayid made his way down the hall he noticed two men in dark suits at the nurse’s station and he quickly moved to the stairs and vanished unnoticed.
He was wheeled down the hall in a wheel chair, the bigger of the two suits pushing him the other agent carrying his things like an overdressed bellhop. When they had entered his hospital room He was expecting a very hostile verbal assault filled with questions and accusations of the most fictitious types. But it had been easy, pleasant and though he wouldn’t admit it, friendly. The older and smaller of the two, agent Kirkwood, even complimented the shots that he had seen.
'Our superior Agent Zuwirsky will be arriving shortly by jet. We'll meet her at the airport and you'll be flown home. She'll just want some answers on a couple of things. We'll be flying with a doctor as well. He'll want to take a look at you, precautionary’ Kirkwood said.
'Is this for real?' He asked nervously.
'Son, do you remember the Black Friday attacks on U.S. Citizens last year?' Kirkwood asked.
The question was absurd. The attacks had happened on the biggest shopping day of the year, fourteen malls across the United States had been bombed simultaneously. Twenty thousand civilians died and it almost spurred a nuclear war with Iran, which is where some of the attackers were believed to be from. Of course he remembered. Who didn't?
'Of course' He responded eventually.
'Well the man you photographed, the proof of his death, that man was the master mind behind those attacks as well as hundreds of others. And you have the proof. Good work Kid.’ Kirkwood winked. `We have cars waiting.’
When they finally reached the exit three black SUVs stood idling. He thought of the last time he took a ride in an SUV and hoped that this one would end differently, without so much death and bombs. The driver’s side door swung open and another agent type opened the passenger door and helped Him into the truck.
They sped through the city, sirens and flashing lights giving them license to burn every red they came across. He could barely line his thoughts up. Six hundred thousand, the photographs he took appearing in thousands of news papers world wide, the simple fact that he was being flown home prematurely by federal agents that didn’t want to imprison him without cause for an undetermined time. Soon he would see Her face, her perfect face.
I’ll build you a home.
I’ll cure our debts.
I’ll be the man that I’ve always wanted to be for you.
The lights of the city, blues, reds and whites began to blur. He found it difficult to keep his eyes open, the pain from his wounds the only thing keeping him conscious, until the force of exhaustion took him away.
‘We’re here’ a voice spoke into his ear. ‘Sir, we’ve arrived’
It felt impossible to open his eyes. ‘Call the Doctor!’ the voice shouted.
A warmth lit up within him, and when He opened his eyes a man standing just outside of the vehicle was disposing a syringe. ‘That was a vitamin B12 shot,’ the man said. `It will make you feel quite good for the next several hours. I'm doctor Nabavi. Let's get you onto that plane so we can have a better look at you.' He smiled politely.
The plane was a twelve-seater jet. Real fancy with its leather captains chairs and plush couches. As He entered the cabin Dr. Nabavi introduced him to every one on board which included Agent Davis, agent Miller, Mr. Hanson who was Zuwirsky's assistant and of course agent Zuwirsky herself.
She was a stone-faced woman, with her hair tied back loosely, of about 40. She wore a black skirt and fitted white blouse. Not what He had expected. He had been picturing a balding bulldog of a man with meat hooks for hands and a well-earned beer gut.
The doctor looked him over, taking vitals and inspecting his wounds. When the doc unwrapped His hand he realized that he hadn't really looked at the gash that ran the length of the meaty part between his thumb and wrist.
'This wasn't stitched as well as it could have been' Dr. Nabavi said almost as a note to himself, then continued 'you were very lucky, you know. I'm going to give you some very powerful anti biotic. Take them with food and do not drink a drop of alcohol, but fear not, it's only a four-day course. I would image that you'll be looking forward to a drink after what you've been through' Nabavi laughed and padded him on the shoulder. He turned to Zuwirsky 'he's in really good shape. He's all yours'. The doctor moved to a seat at the back of the plane, his work now done.
Zuwirsky motioned for agent Davis and Miller to join them, her assistant moved quickly to lower a table from the sidewall and fetch a dossier which he handed to her then buggered off to the rear of the plane to take a seat near Dr. Nabavi
'So you’re the one that took these pictures' Zuwirsky said pulling out massive 11 by 16 prints of all the shots he had sent to his agent. He looked over the prints enjoying how they had turned out seeing some for the first time bigger than the 3inch LCD He had seen them on
'Yes I took these' He answered when he realized he had been looking at them for some time.
'How did you gain access to this man?' Zuwirsky inquired pointing at the bearded leader.
'I met this man, Tamman' he pointed to him, 'at a cafe near my hotel.' This was true but Sayid had set that up and brought Tamman with him. Fill a lie with as much truth as it will hold. 'Tamman noticed that I was a photographer and asked about who I worked for and wanted to see some of my work. I showed him what I had on my laptop and he asked if I wanted to shoot something really important. I was intrigued. In exchange he wanted ten thousand dollars; he wanted to flee the country with his mother for Australia.’
Zuwirsky produced a file, which had Tamman’s name on it. She skimmed through it, reading the pages slowly.
'His brother had been a suicide bomber and he told me he wanted out before they called on him to follow in his brothers foot steps' he said looking at Tamman standing next to the leader with a picture of his dead brother between them.
'How did you get to them?' Zuwirsky probed.
He smiled recalling how movie-esk the whole thing had been. 'I took a taxi to an alleyway, as I was told to do. The taxi left. I waited for about ten minutes maybe less. I was scared shitless- I mean I was terrified. A couple of SUVs pulled up, I was told to raise my hands and turn around, or at least that's what I thought they wanted. They searched me, dumped my cell phone on the ground then put a bag over my head. I'm not good with Closter phobia. We drove for about twenty minutes but it turned out the taxi had taken me to that alley which was less than a couple of blocks. I realized this when I was running out of there for my life, after bombs and gunfire had gone off.
Zuwirsky wasted no time at all. 'I understand you have all these files with you.'
'The pictures! Yes. I have a dozen that I did not send to my agent' he said and got a reaction form all the agents notably Zuwirsky. 'I had planned on saving them for a while then attempt to sell them to national geographic with an article’. He explained almost apologetically.
'Show me these picture now.' Zuwirsky commanded
He asked agent miller to pass him his bag, which had his laptop and camera in it. After setting it all up as quickly as his injured hand allowed him, he pulled up the pictures he had not sent to his agent, set up a slide show and turned the computer to face Zuwirsky.
'Just hit the spacebar to start and stop it' He said clutching the wrist of his injured hand.
Zuwirsky's eyes widen when she saw the more horrifically detailed shots of the dead leader and his men. A smirk flashed across her face yet disappeared just as fleetingly.
'Well' Zuwirsky said pausing to sigh. `You've just made my job much less difficult'.
He wasn't certain whether this was a good or bad thing.
'We'll need copies of these photos, however, we won't be publishing these nor will we prohibit you from publishing them. In fact I would encourage you to do so sooner then later. I appreciate your cooperation with us. Make yourself comfortable. Let me know if you'd like anything to eat. We'll be landing in Toronto in four hours. You'll be home before you know it. Get some rest'.
Zuwirsky stood dimming the light above his head.
‘That’s it?’ He asked.
‘Just needed to verify the origins of the photos. So.. yes. That’s it.’ Zuwirsky admitted.
The other agents stood as well. Miller grabbed the laptop, 'I'll just copy these files' he said his voice quiet almost soothing.
'All the shots are in the back up twelve folder' He told Miller.
Once they had all moved to the back of the plane it was quiet, the creamy leather of his seat, warming and lulling Him. He thought to call Her but decided He’d much rather surprise Her. He'd now be home days earlier than expected. The thought of kissing and holding her as tightly as his injured body would allow.
You'll see Her soon.
Amy poured a glass of wine for Her and herself and made her way to the back deck. Amy had been at the house constantly over the last couple of days. She was appreciative of how genuinely Amy cared. She felt awful at the idea that she might not have done the same for her, but soon came to her senses and knew she would without hesitation. In life a schedule, no matter how busy can be made insignificant in a heart beat.
The two of them sat under a cloudless sky, a half moon hung high above them while the sun set on the horizon.
The conversation had been like a favorite old play list on shuffle. Some of the stories making the two of them laugh to the point of tears, other stories just bringing them to tears.
They were on their second bottle of wine, a Shiraz from southern Australia, and both Her and Amy felt quiet good.
'Oh my God! Do you remember that night we went to lot 323?' Amy asked interrupting her own sip of wine. She laughed loudly as Amy continued. 'For Mia's birthday. We got all dressed up at my place while having a pre-drink'
'Yes! Oh that was ridiculous!' She laughed.
'Remember? And Sarah couldn't decide on what to wear so she changed like twenty times and then she ended up wearing that really tight mini skirt that barely covered her ass' Amy said giddy with excitement.
'Didn't it rip on her or something?'
'No don't you remember? She was dancing at the club with that guy, Vito'
'Oh yeah! Vito' She recalled with a gross feeling she displayed on her face.
'And she was trying to do that stupid move she always does and slipped!'
She laughed covering her mouth as Amy went on. 'And fell and her skirt came right up over her ass' Amy could barely speak for laughing but tried to keep going. 'And... She... Wasn't... Any... Underwear...' The two exploded with laughter, slapping their thighs and stomping their feet.
'And that Vitto guy was all like, looks like you need some landscaping done!' She said grabbing Amy's arm, struggling to breathe and laugh all at once.
'Aahh!' Amy screamed 'Ewe'
They laughed hard and loud enjoying the memory of easier days, until slowly the laughter tapered out and the present caught back up with them.
'That was fun' Amy said sounding more sober.
'It was a good night wasn't it' She admitted, the nagging thoughts of Him returning to Her.
'Amy you don't have to stay the night. I'll be fine, really.' She said
'I'm having fun. How long has it been since we got to hang out together? Besides I think you'd drive yourself crazy waiting for Him to call.’
‘Thank you. It’s good to spend time with you,’ she said pausing distractedly. ‘Amy, why hasn’t he called back yet?’
'There wasn't a phone on the plane'
Startled Her and Amy turned quickly towards the sound of the voice. There at the patio door, unshaven and thin, He stood smiling trying to hold back tears.
'Oh my God! Is that you?' She yelled jumping to her feet. He flung the screen door open and finally, what had felt impossible, what had almost devastated Her was a distant memory. They embraced, the both them crying with joy, relief and exhaustion from worry. They held onto one another as though they would be ripped into the blackness of space, each the other’s gravity. He took her face in his hands, tilted her face to his, wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs then kissed her forehead.
'I’m so sorry' He said choked with emotion.
'I'm just so happy that you’re home safely.' she said sniffling.
'I love you so much'
'I love you too.' she said and dove into his chest for more hugs.
'How did your exams go?' He asked and She began to laugh through her tears.
Amy watched, standing back of them, wiping away her own tears.
In the kitchen He recounted for them in detail what had happened. The girls listened with diligent concentration. She interrupted twice with anger at His decisions, scolding him like a child, asking what would posses him to do what he did. He showed them his wounds, they had gasped yet She still kissed his hand with her healing lips. She asked about Sayid and He found himself biting back tears of humility and gratitude while explaining how ultimately he was alive because of him. He announced that his shots would be in the morning paper, that the New York times had purchased a couple of them strategically omitting what he was paid. He told them about the FBI, which they didn't believe him until he showed them a picture of the agents on the G4 jet that he had asked to take and the agents happily obliged to. When He finished his story Amy and She alike had questions, which he answered as best he could.
Amy stood with some fabricated excuse to leave and hugged Him, thanking him for returning safely. She saw Amy to the door, 'It really means a great deal to me that you were there for me. That you're always there for me. Come by tomorrow if you’re not busy. I'm sure everyone will be stopping by the house.'
'I'm so happy things are ok and I think I will stop by. Will Luke be coming by?' Amy asked jokingly then hugged her good bye once again and was gone.
Then they were alone. She shut the door after Amy left and as she was locking it, He put his arms around Her from behind.
'I fucking love you so much' He whispered into her ear and kissed the small of her neck.
She turned to face Him while still in the safety of his arms. 'I fucking love you too.' she said and kissed Him. 'Let's get you cleaned up'
'That would be amazing.'
She ran a bath for Him as he carefully undressed. He struggled, the pain returning with a vengeance as the painkillers and B12 wore thin. She noticed him fumbling with his pants and rushed over to help.
'Here, let me help you, love' She said easing Him down on the edge of the bed. She pulled his pants off then his socks noticing that nothing he was wearing was his. She helped him back up and unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders. She gently pawed His bandages.
'I have to take these off. Can you help me?
'What do I do?' She questioned
'It's fastened at the back with tape, just pull it free and unwrap me like I'm Gwyneth Paltrow' he kidded.
'What does that mean?'
He laughed which hurt. 'It’s from a film, never mind.'
She unwrapped Him and almost cried when she saw the size of the wound.
'Oh my God, Love'
'It looks worse than it is.'
It took some maneuvering to get Him into the tub but once in, the water felt soothing. She sponged him from the side of the tub, using great care around the wounds. He stared at her lovingly, this brilliantly complicated woman looking so simple in her short shorts and tank top, her eyes had never before looked so clear and soulful. Her face so stunning that he felt his heart beat pause as if it too wanted a moment to admire. He was understanding things differently, the constructs of sacrifice becoming a thing onto itself flying apart like the fluff of a white-ed Dandy lion to reveal its inner secrets, oneness beyond the singular, a fabric woven of and onto itself. She is perfection made flesh and she loves you!
Looking at her then, a decision was made, he took her hand in his, stopping her from what she had been doing and asked, 'I love you, will you marry me?'
Her face became stoic for a moment.
Water dripped from her fingertips.
Her eyes welling slightly she smiled a tiny smile.
'Yes! I would love to marry you.' She answered smiling widely.
He reached up and taking her face in his good hand kissed her passionately.
She pulled away from him starring into his eyes with eager patience. Slowly she dragged her top up over her breasts letting them fall from the shirts tightness, the want of Him spurring her nipples to hardness, then over her head and off it went. Her blonde hair draped over her delicate shoulders. She sat there starring still at Him, Her breasts heaving slightly with her excited breath, letting Him simply look at her, offering her body. He gazed upon the softness of her pale skin, the roundness of her breasts, the dark precision of her nipples. His heart began to thump pushing blood faster through his veins. Between his legs his manhood swelled, rising above the water. She watched as it happened.
She stood then slowly pulled her short shorts down until they dropped to the floor, exposing her hairless eve that was already glistening with wet. She toed into the tub at the far end, her legs spidering his. She moved closer to him taking his hardness into her grip, locking eyes with him. He leaned in to kiss and touch her. She placed her free hand on his chest to stop him.
He understood at once and relaxed back against the tub, never taking his eyes from hers. Firstly she softly pushed and pulled then gradually she began stroking him proper, hints of moans rode his deep breathing. She matched his enjoyment with the vigor of her pace. He was close, she knew and quickened her action and tightened her grip. Still he stared at her and she at him. His pelvis began to rock rhythmically, stomach muscles flexing, straining his stitches. He was almost there. She could feel the exaggerated pulse through the hardness. Eyes still locked, he opened his mouth in a kind of grimace, the words holy fuck leaving his lips. All the hurt, the longing, the seemingly endless time apart, all came rushing out of him with prejudicial force, streaming up and onto her chest once, a second time then the third wild release creating his own Pollock.
'Oh my god!' he shuddered. She smiled, leaning in to kiss him.
She raised herself from the tub, grabbed a towel for herself and helped Him up. He took her hand and led Her to their bed. At the foot of it he kissed her biting her lip as he moved his head back and lowered her. She made it easier for him by lying herself down. He carefully got to his knees it was the only way to keep his torso from hurting. Once there he kissed her legs, languidly working his lips up her thighs until he had parted them, her glory before him, its intoxicating perfume enticing. He kissed her gently there sliding his tongue into her folds. She rolled her eyes into her closing eyelids putting a hand to her mouth and biting on her finger. He took the time to enjoy her, her feel and taste, looking up past her stomach he reached for her breast with his good hand and kneading it gently. She grabbed his hand as he did so and moaned with pleasure. His blood coursed, again, he felt himself harden, Her sounds of enjoyment always did this to him. His tongue moved with great speed and purpose – precise – on the one place, which weakened her knees. She grabbed the top of his head panting his name as her flavor spilled past his lips and tongue and into his mouth.
Taking his face in her hands she coaxed him up to her slowly, minding the wounds and kissed him. She put her hand to his chest again and guided him to the bed so that he could lye on his back. She then straddled him carefully and he took her hands.
‘I love you’ He said, eyes reddened.
‘I love you too’ she responded
Slowly and carefully she lowered herself onto Him. As if rehearsed they both cried out Oh God as they slipped in and on to one another the feeling so overwhelmingly intense and wondrous. She began to rock causing Him to wince.
‘I’m sorry.’ She said
‘It’s okay, just go slow’ he eagerly replied.
She leaned down and kissed him, lingeringly. And as slowly as possible she put movement into her hips, feeling him so hard within her. She bent her upper body to him wrapping her arms around his head. ‘Promise me you’ll never do that to me again.’ She whispered, her voice cracking.
He took her face letting his fingers run into her hair and starred at her in the eye.
‘I’m so sorry. Never will that happen again’ He promised and kissed her lips breathing her in as he did so. Their collective movement began to increase in motion and speed. She sat up, careful not to put her hands on his chest and by doing so exposing her breasts fully to him. He reached for them, tugging and twisting on her nipples, as he knew she enjoyed. The climatic sounds a call and answer of sorts became more and more voluminous until finally they were both at the precipice of orgasm.
‘I’m going to cum!’ He coughed.
‘Cum inside of me’ she moaned ‘Please, cum inside of me’
Their rhythm had reached a feverish pitch and He grabbed hard at the soft roundness of her ass. ‘Oh my god, I’m going to cum too’ she panted. He fell silent, not even breath escaped his lips as he came and jutted his hips to cope with the rush of seed leaving his body. His back arched and she too flinched repeatedly as she let wet flow from her onto him in perfect tandem. She collapsed onto him, both breathing laboriously, both with tears in their eyes, both fully fulfilled and beyond ecstasy to be together again. A thing taken for granted never more.
‘I love you, fiancée’
I love you more than you’ll ever know.
They fell asleep that night in each others arms, synchronically breathing, their hearts beating each feeling the other’s presence and finding the utmost purpose for it. That night a level of true sleep was reached that neither of them had known.
He woke to the soft moist touch of lips on his own.
'Good morning, Lover,' She whispered. 'Look at this!' She held up the morning paper which had the photograph he had taken filling most of the front page.
For a brief instant he feared it dream, then remembered the previous night.
'Your name is in the article!' she said gleefully.
He slowly raised himself up taking the paper from her and skimmed the story. A name caught his eye, Zuwirsky, was quoted as a source and Tamman name was given back to his mother with a simple line in news print 'Tamman was hoping to use the proceeds of the photograph to escape the evil cycle of terror, however, he was killed in the attack' He smiled to himself and folded down the paper.
‘I almost forgot to tell you-‘ He was saying when a car horn interrupted.
She jumped out of bed and looked out the window to see John puling into the driveway.
‘John’s here’ she said looking half curious.
‘Yeah, I was waiting to tell you’ he said pausing.
‘Tell me what?’ she asked almost anxious.
More car horns sounded, she looked again through the window. The cavalry had arrived. His parents, Her parents, Luke and Amy.
‘Everybody’s here’ she reported smilingly.
‘Come here’ he pleaded. She crossed back to the bed and laid next to him.
‘What did you have to tell me?’ She asked.
‘I was wondering if you’d like to go shopping… for a house tomorrow?’ He asked trying to keep the smile from his face.
‘A house?’
‘I made a bit of money on those shots’
‘How much did you make?’
‘Enough to go house shopping with you’
She laughed loudly and spent a moment starring at her man. ‘I cannot wait to be your wife’ she said.
‘That’s the great sentence I’ve ever heard.’ He smiled beyond happy and kissed her lips. Outside the cacophony of joy moved closer to the house.
He was home.
And there was so much more to celebrate than that.
طفل
