A Land of Permanent Goodbyes by Atia Abawi

Author:Atia Abawi
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2018-01-23T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

As the sun began to rise, lighting up the landscape, the coastline of the Aegean Sea was visible through the shrubbery.

The water glistened, soft, tranquil and yet dazzling—summoning the desperate like a siren song calling for Odysseus (a man I crossed paths with years ago).

The hills and mountains of Greece held the dreams of a warless Europe in plain sight, now that the veil of the night sky had been lifted. Tareq could see a bright future for his sister past these waters, something he didn’t believe he could give her here or at home.

It was hard for Tareq to imagine that thousands of people had died trying to cross the stretch of water in front of him. His eyes focused on the terrain past the blue expanse, a place that looked like freedom. But he knew all too well from the images—bodies washing up on this exact shoreline—that the land could just as easily hold destruction.

Tareq envisioned his brother Salim sitting next to him, feeling his brother’s excited energy.

“You weren’t in my dream last night.”

“You missed me?” Salim’s image smiled.

“Of course I did.” Tareq’s heart sank. “I always do.”

“Good.” He grinned at his older brother. “I took the night off to rest. We have a big day today.”

“Yes, we do.”

“I will race you there.” He ran toward the sea, yelling back, “You get on the boat and take care of Susan, and I will swim!”

Tareq wanted to run after him, but his heart quickly dropped as Salim vanished into the sea’s mist.

• • •

A motor buzzed in the distance, too burly to be from a boat or a car.

Tareq picked himself up. Slapping the dirt off his hands, he watched a tractor haul a large, rusty wagon. Lying on the carriage bed were giant cardboard boxes.

“That must be the dinghies,” the man next to him said softly. An unlit cigarette hung from his cracked lips, just under his graying mustache. He didn’t want his family to hear.

“You mean the inflatable boats?” asked Tareq.

“Eh.” The man nodded as he pulled out a lighter and sparked his cigarette. He took a deep drag before offering it to Tareq.

“Lah, shukran,” Tareq declined, realizing that with this simple offer he was, for the first time, considered a man in the eyes of those around him.

“There should be more boats on that truck.” He shook his head. Both men glanced at the dozens of people around them. “We really are on a journey of death.”

The words stung as Tareq looked at his little sister, still asleep.

“Crazy.” The man blew a cloud of smoke toward the sky. “All of these people.” He extended his arms, displaying what was in front of them. “We are all the same. But we are all from different places.”

Tareq was astonished as he examined the crowd around him. He could tell who was Syrian and who was not by their clothes alone—from the way a hijab was wrapped to the wash of their jeans. But the expression around their eyes connected all the souls in front of him.

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