Chapter 38: Where Is Zayn? - My Name Is Samim

Where is Zayn?

Mr Higgins and Miss Nadia stare at me in silence, their faces a blur through my tears. I thought speaking about losing Zayn would break me, but here I am, still breathing, still talking, still numb.

I slump in my chair, fidgeting with my bracelet.

I did it. I told them the truth. Zayn died because I dragged him away from Rome, because I took his life jacket. He sacrificed his life for mine, even though I didn’t deserve it. I don’t deserve any of this. Maybe that’s why I can’t be happy.

Suddenly panic shoots through me. “Where is Zayn?” I shout, straightening my back and looking around. Miss Nadia and Mr Higgins flinch.

“Are you alright, Samim?” Miss Nadia puts her hand on my shoulder.

I look at her, panting, wondering how long I’ve been here. Then my body softens, and I slump in my chair again.

“This must have been very hard for you, Samim. You’re very brave,” she tells me.

I stare at my shoes. I’m not brave. I am a coward.

“Thank you, Samim,” Mr Higgins says. “I know what happened to you after that, so our interview ends here. You will learn about the decision on your asylum claim in a few days.”

I gulp.

As we leave the study, Mr Higgins and Miss Nadia talk to Miss Brown, and I stagger to my room.

“Samim!” Miss Nadia calls me.

I turn back, and she walks up to me.

“Thank you for being so honest with us. You’ve done a great job.”

I dip my head.

“I also wanted to tell you something. I wanted to tell you that you did tell their stories in the end. Your family’s story, Zayn’s, Darya’s, Auntie Amina’s and of all those people you met along the way. I wanted to tell you that you kept your promise and told their stories. And even though I never had the privilege of meeting them, I don’t think I will ever forget them.”

I swallow hard, pushing down a cry.

* * *

The next day, a knock on my door wakes me from a deep sleep. Since I started taking those pills, I pass out the second my head touches the pillow. My dreams are dark and lucid; waking up feels like crawling out of a swamp.

It’s February, and the room is dark. I glance at my phone and see that it’s late afternoon. I’ve slept through most of the day.

I lift myself up and lean against the headboard. “Come in.”

The door half opens, and Rita’s face appears behind it. “Hey. You asleep?”

“No, no. I’m awake.” I rub my gritty eyes, trying to look less sluggish.

She walks in and gazes around the room. “Nice.”

“Thanks.”

She pulls up a desk chair and sits down. “You’ve been sleeping a lot lately.”

I shrug, fixing my hair and hiding my bare ankles under the covers because my pyjama legs are too short.

“I wanted you to know that everyone in the chess club knows Max played you. They all saw it, and they are all on your side.”

“I know. Rence texted me. It’s nice,” I mumble.

Rita points at the piece of paper I keep next to my pillow. “What’s that?”

I pick it up. “It’s the list of people I met on my journey. Kind people who deserved a good life. Some of them died, some made it, the rest… I’ll never know. But I wanted to remember them. I wanted to tell their stories.”

“Nice.” Rita’s voice is hushed with sadness, and she gazes down. “Darya died in the end, didn’t she?”

I nod.

“Will you tell me the rest of her story when you’re feeling better?”

“I promise.”

“I wish I got to meet her. I wish we were friends.”

I push the paper away, lean on my knees and grab my hair. My chest feels like a dried-up well inside – dark and hollow.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, these meds are meant to stop me from fighting. But they stop me from doing everything. I’m exhausted all the time.”

“Why don’t you talk to Miss Brown about it?”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t want to. I’ll do what they tell me to. I don’t want to cause any more trouble.”

Rita purses her lips. “I see. Well, school is tomorrow. Try not to sleep through your classes.”

“Tomorrow?” I lift my head in surprise.

“Yeah, it’s been two weeks.”

“Has it?”

Rita’s forehead wrinkles, and she stares at me sideways. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk to Miss Brown about these pills?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” I rub the back of my neck.

“Okay. Well, if you fancy a bike ride or even just a walk later, let us know.”

I nod, but this nod is a lie. I don’t think I can walk in a straight line now, never mind ride a bike.

“We miss you, Samim,” Rita says, and my heart flickers.

I look at her, and as our eyes lock, my chest swells.

Three simple words: “we miss you”. Suddenly, through all the haziness in my head and numbness in my body, I feel like I belong. Here, in this country, in this house, where people miss me. Maybe this is what makes a place home? People who miss you when you’re gone. I hug that thought to my chest like a cup of hot drink, and it spreads its warmth all over me. But then I remember I might not be able to stay here, and the warmth oozes away. I turn away, lie on my side and pull the cover over my head.

The door clicks shut as Rita leaves the room.

Where is Zayn? Why can’t I see him any more? What did I say or do that was so bad he’s abandoned me?

* * *

For dinner, I make myself a sandwich in the kitchen and walk back to my bedroom, but Miss Brown catches me in the corridor. Her eyebrows are drawn together, and I know it’s bad news.

“Miss Nadia called, Samim.”

A heavy pause between us makes my knees weak.

“Your asylum claim has been denied. I’m so sorry.”

I dip my head and stare at the soft, warm carpet my feet got used to so quickly.

“This is so unfair, Samim. I don’t know how they can do this to a child! Miss Nadia even thinks it might be some sort of mistake, and she’s going to appeal this decision, but as you know, there are no guarantees.”

I nod. I don’t know what will happen to me next, but if I can’t stay here, then I don’t care any more.

“The refusal doesn’t mean you’ll be sent away immediately…”

Miss Brown says something else after that, but her words grow muffled. My thoughts fog over, and all I can think is how much I wish Zayn was here.

I walk past Miss Brown up the stairs, and she calls my name.

“Samim.”

I stop and look down at her.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that we’ve failed you.”

“You didn’t. I know you did everything you could.”

Miss Brown shakes her head. “The truth is, there isn’t much I can do for you because my voice means nothing in this matter. I can shout from every rooftop that I’d love for you to stay and live in my house, but no one will listen to me. And that’s not right. Helping a child in need should never be this difficult.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.” Miss Brown’s voice cracks, and she turns away, wiping her nose.

I wobble down the stairs and stand before her. A few deep breaths later, I pull the words from my foggy brain.

“None of this is your fault,” I say as she hides her red eyes from me. “You showed me kindness and gave me a home. In your home, I felt happy again. And if in your home I will be missed one day, then maybe I was loved here, too. I will remember that when things get hard again.”

Miss Brown raises her teary eyes at me. She takes my hand and squeezes it tightly.

“You are loved, my boy. You are very much loved.”