Lucky
A door slammed
somewhere in the distance. Tariq didn’t even flinch. He was used to all the
noises by now.
He’d lost track of
time. He’d no idea how long he’d been in this room. It wasn’t a cell. At least,
there weren’t any bars on the small window, and the door was made of wood
rather than steel. And yet, even though he knew he could walk out whenever he
wanted, he might as well be incarcerated. What good was freedom if you’d lost
all you had to live for?
At first he’d been
too confused to do much except sit quietly and cry. He didn’t understand why he
found himself here. This was not the way things were supposed to be. He’d known
he was about to venture into an uncertain future when he signed up for the scheme,
but nothing could have prepared him for this. Having no idea exactly where he
was was the least of his problems. The unanswered questions killed him. Not
knowing what would happen next…or when. Not knowing what he was supposed to do
now. And most of all, not knowing what had happened to….
Tariq stopped
himself from pursuing that particular line of thought. Nothing would be gained
from indulging himself in those unanswerable questions. It had taken him some
time to come to the conclusion. At first he’d allowed himself to spend all his
time wondering, longing, fearing and yearning. He’d cried more tears than he
cared to remember until at last he realised that madness was the only thing
awaiting him along that path. Nobody could answer his questions so he’d stopped
asking them.
Another door
slammed and footsteps approached along the corridor outside his room. He
wondered what it would be this time? Would they urge him to move on again? Ask
him what he wanted to do next? When would they take his word for it when he
told them he just didn’t care?
The footsteps
stopped right outside his door and Tariq held his breath. He was so tired of
all of this. If only they would leave him alone.
The door opened and
in walked….
Tariq closed his
eyes and opened them again. The vision in front of him was still the same.
Could it be? Memories assaulted him. Paying all the money they owned to the man
with the cruel smile. Boarding the boat which had been too small for the number
of refugees. The sudden storm. Seeing Ayman fall overboard just before a large
vessel had intercepted their smaller one. He’d been in shock; had allowed
himself to be moved from the flimsy boat to the larger ship and subsequently to
this room.
“There you are.”
The voice confirmed what his eyes had refused to believe.
“Ayman.” His voice
was choked and raw after days of being silent. “You’re here. You’re alive.”
Tariq watched as
the man he loved more than life itself crossed the room and lowered himself to
the mattress on the floor before opening his arms. “Come here.”
He crawled into Ayman’s
arms, resting his head against his boyfriend’s chest. For a moment he wondered
why they’d given Ayman a shirt when they’d left him with just his shorts and
then he decided it didn’t matter.
“I thought you’d….”
His voice broke. “When I saw you go overboard….”
“Sshh,” Ayman
whispered. “You should have known. Don’t I always live up to my name?”
For the first time
since they’d fled their home Tariq laughed. “Yes, you’re right. Ayman indeed. You
always were a lucky bastard.”
****
596 words
As always, other
stories based on the same image can be found in the Monday
Flash Fics Facebook group. I’ll also post an idea for an Advent/Christmas
story event in the group today which will also be open to non group members.
Make sure to check it out!
