Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
T hree weeks into the semester, Mateo and I are still trying to find a new rhythm of time together. Although the soccer season is over and he’s officially done, he’s continuing to work out with the team. No doubt it’s hard to quit those habits cold turkey, not to mention the strong relationships he has with his teammates. We see each other every Tuesday and Thursday, and we usually try to go on a date sometime over the weekend. But the more time we spend together, the more time I want to spend with him, making my classes and study load rather inconvenient.
I head to the library almost every day after classes, either studying for my courses or working my way through some law school textbooks I purchased early. On a Thursday afternoon, Mateo finds me in the Harry Potter room. I’m alerted to his presence behind me by the spicy tree farm smell flooding my senses right before he places a kiss on my temple.
“What are you reading?” he asks as he sits down next to me.
I look at him sheepishly as I hold up my book. “Literally the dictionary.”
Mateo laughs loudly, drawing irritated glares from students studying at nearby tables. He clears his throat and whispers, “Sorry. Was not expecting that response.”
I show him the Legal Dictionary that I’m methodically reading and annotating. I’m tempted to feel embarrassed, but Mateo catches me off guard by leaning in to softly kiss my lips. It’s crazy how even his gentlest of kisses sends sparks shooting through my body, like the slow, scintillating burn of a sparkler at Fourth of July.
He pulls back with a smile and whispers again. “Your dedication will never cease to amaze me, Lana.” I lean forward to give him a quick peck of appreciation on the lips, not even caring if the students at neighboring tables are watching us over their laptops.
“It’s nice outside this afternoon,” Mateo says. “Would you be up for going for a walk? Or do you need to keep studying?”
“I’m definitely up for a walk. That’s enough dictionary for one day,” I say with a self-effacing grimace.
I arrange my laptop and books in my backpack, and Mateo throws one strap over his shoulder as he takes my hand. We walk lazily through campus until my phone rings.
“Oh, it’s my mom. Let me just see if she needs something quick or if I should call her back later,” I say. I tap the button to answer it. “Hey Mom!”
“Hi Lana, honey,” my mom responds, her voice a bit strained. “What are you up to right now?”
“Just finished studying and now walking through campus with Mateo,” I tell her, hoping the strain in her voice isn’t related to Dean. He’s been doing so well ever since Mateo connected him with Parker.
“Oh, you’re with Mateo? Could you give him the phone so I can talk to him for just a minute?” Mom asks, further raising my suspicions.
“Uh, sure,” I say, then hold the phone out toward Mateo. “She wants to talk to you?”
Mateo takes the phone with a question in his eyes. He greets my mom, then listens intently. His eyes flick over to me briefly with concern before looking down at the sidewalk. “Mmmhmm…yeah, I understand…yes, of course I will.” I can’t hear my mom’s side of the conversation, but Mateo’s short responses aren’t sitting well with me.
He hands the phone back to me and takes my hand, so much compassion in his eyes that my blood runs cold. “Mom, what is going on?” I ask into the phone, a slight tremor in my voice.
“Honey, everything is okay with our family. But…there is something terrible that’s happened that I need to tell you about,” she pauses, and I hear her take a deep breath. “It’s Samira’s family. We just got word that Hassan, her son who got left behind in Afghanistan…well…he’s been killed, Lana.”
My heart plummets. I gasp into the phone, “No, that’s not true.” I look into Mateo’s eyes, already brimming with tears as he looks back at me, and I know it is true.
“But Mom, you were working so hard to get him here. You were filling out all the papers, you were contacting all the people, doing all the right things so he could get here for Samira. This isn’t right.” My voice cracks as the tears start overflowing from my eyes.
“I know, honey,” my mom says, her own voice thick with emotion. “We were doing everything we could. It’s just such an unstable place, and Hassan, he…he just got caught in the middle of some fighting and…he’s gone.”
I choke back a sob, and Mateo’s free hand starts rubbing circles on my back. “How’s Samira? And Zahra? Does she understand what happened?”
“Zahra’s been separated from Hassan for so long now, living this different life, that I think she’s having a hard time comprehending that he died, that he won’t ever be coming back,” Mom tells me, causing fresh tears to spill down my cheeks. “And Samira, well, she’s gutted, of course. She feels like it’s her fault for leaving without him. And she’s grieving the fact that she can’t even be physically present to put him to rest. She has family members still there who are seeing to his burial, but of course that’s not the same.”
Another sob breaks out of my throat as my mind submerges in Samira’s pain. It’s a horrifying reality to lose a child. But to lose a child to such violence, and to not even be able to physically say goodbye? The thought makes me nauseous.
“Honey, I know classes just started, but if you’re able to come home this weekend, I’m sure it would mean a lot to Samira and Zahra to see you,” my mom says gently.
“Of course. Of course I’ll come, Mom. I’ll figure things out and text you when I’m leaving,” I respond.
“Okay, be safe, my beauty. I love you so much,” my mom’s voice breaks on the last word, starting us both crying all over again.
“I love you too, Mom. I’ll see you soon,” I finally say and end the call.
Immediately I’m wrapped up in Mateo’s arms, face buried in his chest as my shoulders shake with sobs. His left hand comes up to hold the back of my head against him, his fingers gently massaging my scalp.
I don’t know how long we stand there. I keep pulling back, trying to speak, but my voice always breaks down and I return my face back to Mateo’s chest.
Mateo just holds me firmly in his arms as the sobs wracking my body slowly still. I remain pressed against his heart as I finally start to externally process. “It’s just so unfair. Samira already lost her husband fighting with the US Army against the Taliban. And now she loses her son because we can’t even get him out. The people that helped our country, we can’t even get them out to safety. It’s so unfair to Samira. To all the Samiras out there.”
Tears are streaming down my face again as I step back to look up at Mateo. He swipes both thumbs across my cheeks and asks, “What do you need, Lana? Do you need me to just keep standing here holding you? Do you need me to come up with a plan for you to get home? Whatever you need me to do, I’m here.”
Fresh tears spill out of my eyes and trail down to his hands still holding my face. “I can’t think straight right now. Can you take over thinking for me?” He nods and kisses a tear from my cheek before pulling me back into his warm embrace. With one hand he pulls out his phone and starts sending text messages as I just cling to him like a life preserver .
A few minutes later, he puts his phone back in his pocket and peers down at me. “Are you good to walk back to AOPi now? Amaya and Teegan are taking care of contacting your professors about missing class tomorrow, and they’re packing a bag for you. I texted your mom, and I’m going to drive the four of us in your car to KC once we’re all packed, okay?”
My view of Mateo’s face blurs as more tears well up. I’m surprised there’s any moisture left in me to produce tears, but here we are. “Thank you for taking care of me,” I whisper.
We walk back to AOPi, where I’m met with more tearful hugs from Amaya and Teegan. Mateo takes my keys and leaves to go pack a bag for himself before coming back to pick us up. My best friends have already taken care of everything for me, which is good because my body feels like a shell with no brainpower controlling it.
Thirty minutes later, we’re all sitting quietly in the car, pulling onto the highway out of Brooklyn. Mateo is driving and holding my hand in the passenger side. From the backseat, Teegan takes my phone and cues up Maverick City Music to play over the Bluetooth, filling the heavy silence in the car.
This is so unfair. This is so unfair. This is so unfair. The simple phrase loops on repeat through my mind, filling my body with alternating rushes of grief and rage. I picture the love mixed with sadness on Samira’s face as she showed me photos of Hassan over Christmas break. I lean my head back, eyes closed as yet another round of tears wells up.
Teegan reaches a hand up to squeeze my shoulder, and Amaya prays out loud for Samira, Zahra, and their family, as well as for my mom and me. I hear Teegan sniffling behind me, and although my heart is breaking, it’s simultaneously bandaged up by this car full of love and support.
My dad immediately opens the front door when we pull into the driveway. I run up the porch steps straight into his arms. “How’s Mom?” I whisper as he hugs me.
“You know your mom. She’s trying to be strong for everyone, for Samira and Zahra, for you. But she’s absolutely crushed,” my dad says softly, squeezing me tighter. “She’s in the kitchen cleaning the oven or some other unnecessary task to keep her hands occupied.”
I walk inside as my dad thanks Amaya, Teegan, and Mateo for coming. Sure enough, Mom’s head is buried inside the oven, the racks soaking in the sink. “We’re here, Mom,” I say, not wanting to startle her. She stands up and faces me, wiping her hands on her apron. She just looks at me for a few seconds before her face crumples, and we cry into each other’s shoulders.
Late Sunday afternoon, we’re driving back to Brooklyn after a heavy weekend in KC. I’m playing back the time in my mind as I watch the Kansas plains roll past my window. My mom and I spent most of Friday with Samira and Zahra. We returned home Friday night to a spotless house and dinner waiting for us.
Saturday morning, I woke up feeling restless, like I needed to do something practical, so I called the industrial laundry company Samira works for to beg them to give her a week of paid leave so she could grieve without worrying about not being able to pay her bills. It was the smallest of victories, but at least I was able to tell her she had the next week off of work.
Samira’s family in Afghanistan didn’t have strong enough Internet signal to video call her for Hassan’s funeral, so they recorded videos and sent them to her later from a stronger Wi-Fi spot. All of us went to her apartment, along with some other Afghan families from the community, to be there for her as she watched them Saturday afternoon. When it became too much for Zahra, I took her to a nearby coffee shop for some hot cocoa and cookies, along with Mateo, Amaya, and Teegan.
We all returned home Saturday evening feeling heavy. We half-heartedly made small talk, but no one was really in the mood to converse much. I excused myself and went outside to call Elena, someone I knew would understand the angst of the situation.
“We have to do something, Elena,” I told her after summarizing the events. “This shouldn’t have happened. Our Afghan allies should have more peace, more certainty and stability by now. Not this.”
I know she’s likely heard countless heart-rending stories from other Afghan families, but still she empathized with me as I shared. She, of all people, understood my driving need for action.
My exhausted body must have fallen asleep at some point along the drive to Townsend, because I wake to the sensation of Mateo’s knuckles brushing against my cheek, his voice quietly calling me out of slumber. I blink slowly, hearing Amaya and Teegan at the trunk unloading our bags.
Tender compassion has taken up permanent residence in Mateo’s eyes this weekend, hugging me with comfort every time I look at him. I lean across the console and press a long kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for being with me,” I whisper before opening my car door.
Mateo comes around to my side to hand me my keys. He envelops me in his arms and says, “You have Teegs and Amaya here, but I’m on standby. If you need me, just text, and I’ll be back to you in minutes, okay?”
I head inside with Teegan and Amaya, turning to wave at Mateo as he drives away in his truck. Because we all missed classes on Friday, we have plenty of work to catch up on. We spread out in our room, laptops open. “Hey Teegs, thanks so much for missing a day of student teaching on such short notice,” I tell her once we’re settled. “I’m sure that’s stressful.” She waves me off, reiterating how important I am to her.
I find an email with an attachment in my inbox from Aaron. Clicking it open, I read his message. Hey Lana, when you missed class Friday I texted Teegan and she filled me in. I took extra good notes and attached them for you. I’m praying for you and your friends. - Aaron
My eyes sting as I open the attachment and find incredibly detailed notes. That really was a thoughtful gesture. I have so many people in my corner fighting for me and lifting me up. It only makes me more determined than ever to be that person for vulnerable people who need it most.