Table of Contents Table of Contents
Previous Page  136 / 145 Next Page
Show Menu
Previous Page 136 / 145 Next Page
Page Background


Courage To Live



It was a cold, rainy morning when he arrived. I was dreaming about

the war, and the dull whine of falling bombs in the desert. When I

woke up, he was standing outside my bedroom door, haunted and

unsmiling. His clothes were shining wet and looked as though they’d

been pulled from a cupboard. Backlit by the ghostly light of the hall,

he looked spectral, ephemeral, a waking dream that might vanish at

any moment.

For a moment, dream and reality threatened to coincide.

A war-torn desert replaced a peaceful room, fatigues replaced

pyjamas; sand replaced worn floorboards. Like a figure in fog, the

real world gradually asserted itself; rain hammering a cold glass

pane, a dark room swathed in papers, and the gaunt figure of my old

friend in the doorway, shining with light and water, unbelievably,





“Hello,” he said in Arabic. A wry, uncertain smile unfurled slowly

across his face, as though he’d forgotten how to do it properly. “I’m


I stared at him, and waited for emotion to register. Shock, relief,

rage, anything. But the reality of his presence did nothing but slowly

seep through, leaving the dull, numb ache of disorientation. He had

been gone, but now…

“It’s raining quite a bit,” he said.

“You… you’re here. I thought you had gone.” It felt strange to be

speaking Arabic again, but then, everything in this moment – this

dark, rainy, bewildering moment – felt strange.

A shadow passed over his face. “I was. But I’m back now.”

Cold and unfeeling, I rolled out of bed and hit the floor,

stretching my toes along the grainy floorboards. The drag of his

breath halted for a moment, quizzical. Feeling my way through the

dark, I shuffled across the room, racked back the blinds, and cracked

open the window, breathing in deeply the cold, damp sea air.

Everything smelt of brine and rain.

I turned and, subconsciously, perhaps, a memory from our time

in the desert, went to hold him. His entire stance changed the

minute I got within reaching distance. His eyes went wide, nostrils

flaring, jaw clamping shut so tightly it had to hurt, head tossing like

a wild horse’s. “Don’t,” he bit out, once the involuntary tremors

ceased. His gaze crept haltingly to mine. “Please, don’t.”