Chapter 31: What if Zayn Stays? - My Name Is Samim

Italy, summer 2021

The following day, after lunch, Zayn and the other boys rushed outside to play, but I stayed in the bedroom and watched them through the window.

They ran barefoot across neatly trimmed grass, fruit trees framing the oval field. A ball hit a branch, and a rosy peach dropped from it. Zayn grabbed it and took a greedy bite, wiping golden juice off his chin.

The demons that had kept me up at night were back, and their chants made my chest swell with worry.

What if I tell Zayn about Auntie Amina’s offer, and he chooses to stay? What if he refuses to come with me?

No. My brother wouldn’t abandon me.

But then a broad smile lit up Zayn’s face as he kicked the ball up in the air once, twice, seven, twelve, twenty-four times in a row. The rest of the boys cheered for him, and my demons grew louder.

He’s happy here. This place is paradise. So why would he leave it for another dangerous journey to look for my uncles?

Omar put his arm over Zayn’s shoulder, and together they laughed like best friends.

A silent scream ripped through my chest.

* * *

That evening at the dinner table, we munched on chicken kofta patties and rice. But as much as I loved every bite, a knot of unease tightened in my stomach, and I felt like running away from that table and that house. The longer we stayed in this paradise, the more comfortable Zayn became and the more likely he was to decide to stay. I couldn’t take that chance.

After dinner, I asked Zayn to come and talk in the bedroom.

“We need to leave tomorrow,” I declared.

“Tomorrow? But why?” He spread his arms in disbelief.

“Because we need to find Uncle Roshan and Uncle Jalal.”

“But what if we never find them? We don’t even know where Uncle Jalal lives or where Uncle Roshan is now. Wouldn’t it be better for us to stay here, where we’re safe and people care about us?”

My heart throbbed with anger and fear.

He will never come with me, I thought. He will never leave this place.

“Then stay.” I spat the words, and they tasted like mud on my tongue. “Auntie Amina said we are welcome to stay. But I am leaving tomorrow.”

Zayn’s eyes widened, and his chest rose and fell. “But why can’t we stay a little longer? Why rush to sleep in the streets when we are welcome to stay here?”

“What if Uncle Roshan is already in Calais, searching for us, while we feast and play football?” I said, trying to make Zayn feel bad.

Guilt squeezed my gut as I used his happiness against him.

Zayn bowed his head. “We could just stay another week, Samim. Uncle Roshan won’t get to Calais before us. It will take him time to recover.” Zayn’s voice was quiet and apologetic; he sounded like a child caught getting up to mischief.

“The longer we stay here, the harder it will be to leave,” I said. “There’s no point in getting used to these comforts when we know we’ll be sleeping by the side of the road soon.”

Zayn’s face darkened like the sky before a thunderstorm.

“Please, Zayn, please come with me. I don’t want to go without you. We are brothers. We must stick together.”

We stood silent for a few seconds, and my body shivered with dread.

Zayn walked to the door, his head hanging in defeat. Just before walking out, he muttered, “I’d never leave you, Samim.”

Shame wrapped itself around me like cold iron chains. I was happy Zayn was coming with me, but I also knew I was being selfish. I was forcing him to leave, even though he would be better off staying.

* * *

The following morning I told Auntie Amina we were leaving.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked, clutching my hand.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“And Zayn wants to leave too?”

I pushed my guilt down with a hard swallow and bobbed my head.

“Very well.” She sighed. After a few moments of silence, she opened her bedside-table drawer and took out an envelope and a mobile phone. “Then you’ll need this. It’s Nur’s old phone. You can have it now. My number is on the envelope.” She pressed them into my hands. “Buy a new SIM card in Calais and message me as soon as you can.”

“Thank you, Auntie.”

“There are €5,000 in the envelope. It’s all the savings I’ve got left. You will need this money in Calais.”

My eyes widened in shock. “I can’t take this!” I pushed the envelope back towards her.

Auntie clasped my hand in hers.

“I won’t hear of it, child. Hide it well and look after yourselves and each other. I pray you both find what you seek, my boy.”

Tears stung my eyes as I thought of all the kindness she had shown us. I didn’t want to say goodbye to her. I didn’t want to leave that house. But I had to find my uncles.

“Taara will drive you to the train station and buy your tickets to Paris,” Auntie continued. “It won’t be difficult to get to Calais from there.”

“Thank you, Auntie,” I repeated, bowing my head.

“Don’t thank me,” she said. “I should lock you up in this room and not let you go. Then you’d have something to thank me for. But I’m letting you go, and it feels like I’m tossing two pups into a raging river.”

I dropped my head again.

“When do you want to leave?”

“Today,” I blurted out, and Auntie frowned.

“Very well,” she said after a pause, staring me in the eye as if trying to understand the reason for my rush. “I’ll speak to Taara, and you can leave after lunch.”

My chest first relaxed with relief, then tightened with fresh worry. What awaited us in Calais?

I hesitated at the door, turning back to Auntie Amina one last time.

“Will you get better?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“I am better now than I’ve been in a long, long time, my boy,” she replied, and a warm smile lifted her kind, wrinkly face.