Chapter 40: Madar-Jan - My Name Is Samim

I blink, my eyes squinting against bright light. It flows through the window with the summer breeze, flapping the red curtains that my grandmother sewed.

I push myself up on my elbows to look around. I’m on my bed, rusty springs squeaking under me with every move. My sister’s bed is across from mine, her dolls lined up neatly along the wall with the open window.

My heart feels too big for my chest.

Am I home? Am I really home?

I feel like screaming, “But how? How is this happening?”

I jump off my bed and tiptoe across the bedroom, as if a noise might scatter all this away. The thin rug brushes against my bare feet, and I smile. I’m in my perahan tunban: the loose trousers and shirt I always wore back home. I take a deep breath, enjoying the smell of freshly baked naan bread and dinner spices.

Am I dreaming? Can you smell things when you dream?

A washed-out red curtain separates our bedroom from the living room. I push it aside and my eyes widen in disbelief. My mother kneels on a cushion, her white fingers kneading dough on a massive wooden board. Her beloved blue scarf drapes her hair and shoulders, while a tiny old radio hums a lively tune.

Mother raises her head, and the softest smile lifts her face.

My back bows, and I howl into my hand.

How can this be?

My mother opens her arms wide. “Hello, bachim, my precious boy.”

I run, drop to my knees and sink into her embrace.

She wraps her warm arms around me, strokes my hair and whispers, “Oh, how much you’ve grown.”

I chuckle and inhale her rosewater scent. My eyes tear up with joy.

“Was it all a dream? Was it all a bad dream, madar-jan?”

She cups my face with floury hands and looks me in the eye with love every child should know. How could I forget her face?

“I’m so proud of you, Samim.” Her voice is as gentle as I remember.

I whimper. “I’m so sorry, madar-jan! I’m so sorry I ran away from you the last time you hugged me.”

She grins and wipes my tears with her thumbs. “Don’t be. I smiled after you ran away. You were turning into a strong young man, and I was proud. Now, look how far you’ve come.”

I sob into her hands.

“Our love was never about that last day or last moment,” she tells me. “I died loving you, your sister and your father fiercely, knowing that you loved me back. It was a good life. I was blessed.”

My lips quiver as I shake my head. “I’ll never run away from you again. I’ll never leave you again!”

My mother’s eyebrows pull together. “You can’t stay, bachim. It’s not your time yet.”

I shake my head, refusing to listen. Of course it’s my time! It’s finally my time to return home. This is where I belong! I want to stay even if that means never leaving the walls of this house again. And so I drop my head to her knees and I beg and I pray she lets me stay.

“Please, madar-jan! I have nothing and no one out there to go back to.”

“That’s not true.” She takes my hands in hers. “I know you’re tired, but you’re strong. You are strong, clever and kind. And you are everything you are because of the journey you’ve been through, and despite it. Now, you must go back, as your story is not over yet. It is only beginning. You have so much to do. And you need to find Zayn.”

“How? How can I find him? He just left me! He disappeared!”

Mother cups my face. “You will find him, trust me. In heaven or hell, remember?”

I nod, and my chest burns with defeat.

I can’t stay. I must go back.

I grab my mouth and shake my head, trying to keep a howl in my chest from escaping.

Mother lifts my hand, kisses the woven bracelet on my wrist, and wraps her arms around me in a last embrace.

“Live fiercely, act kindly and love deeply,” she whispers in my ear, and my heart shatters into a million pieces.

I close my wet eyes. “I will see you soon, madar-jan.”

She kisses my cheek. “Not too soon, bachim.”

* * *

I blink my eyes open and look around. I’m on a bed, monitors flashing and beeping above my head. A breathing mask is on my face, and I pull it off, coughing.

“Samim!” Miss Brown leaps to me and grabs my hand. “You’re awake!”

“Hi,” I whisper, my throat sore and dry.

“You gave us all such a fright!” She squeezes my hand, and I see tears sparkling in her tired eyes.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Ten days now. We were so worried. You just wouldn’t wake up!”

“How’s Max?” I cough, and Miss Brown quickly gets me some water with a straw.

I take a long sip.

“He’s fine. He spent a night in hospital, but he’s home now. Thanks to you.” Miss Brown puts away the glass and sits beside me. “I can’t believe you risked your life to save him.” Her voice trembles. “You shouldn’t have done that, Samim. It was too dangerous.”

“I know,” I say, looking away. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you thought you were doing the right thing, that you were being noble, but it was reckless. And next time, you might not be so lucky.” She sighs and gently squeezes my hand. “Promise me you’ll never do something so dangerous again.”

I meet her eyes and say, “I promise.”

Her smile is soft and relieved, and she nods, which tells me she believes me.

I look around, and Zayn is still gone. Grief presses against my chest, and I close my eyes again. With my eyes shut, I still feel Miss Brown’s warm hand holding mine.

Zayn is gone, but she is here with me. Not for long, but at least for now, I’m not alone.

* * *

Rita, Ayan and Rence burst into my hospital room after school.

Rita squeezes me in a tight embrace.

“Easy there! Don’t break him! We only just got him back.” Miss Brown laughs.

Rita releases me and sits on the bed, her face a sunbeam. Ayan marches over to my bedside, his eyebrows furrowed. He slams a tub of paprika crisps and a chocolate bar onto my bedside table, and I wince.

“For you,” he grumbles.

“Thanks.” I swallow.

Rence walks closer and gently fist bumps my droopy hand with plastic IV tubes sticking out.

“So glad you’re back, Samim. We all missed you.”

A bittersweet warmth wells up inside me. Like a sip of scalding sweet tea, it burns my throat but tastes delicious. I’m so glad they missed me, but I hate that I might have to leave them.

A long piece of string hangs on the wall in front of me with colourful cards, maybe forty or fifty, folded over it. There is also a drawing of a giant flower and ‘Get well soon! Love, Skye’ scribbled over it.

“What are they?” I ask.

“This one is from Skye.” Rita points at the drawing. “And the rest are from kids at our school. Everyone wishes you a speedy recovery.”

I frown. “Really?”

“You are a hero, Samim,” Rence says. “Everyone knows that.”

I shake my head. I’m not a hero.

“Very stupid hero,” Ayan says, folding his arms in a huff. “Everyone knows that, too.”

The room breaks into chuckles. Ayan never holds back.

“No, no, don’t laugh!” Ayan snaps. “This not funny, okay?” He spins to face me, pointing accusingly. “You see kid do stupid thing, you think, oh good idea, I do stupid thing too! You lucky! Lucky you alive and—” He waves his hands frantically. “—breathing, talking, making sad face now!” His nostrils flare like he’s about to explode. “You make us very sad, Samim. Me, extra sad. So sad that I—” He pauses, raising a finger. “—not eat dessert eight days… Eight!” He throws his hands in the air. “And now you wake up, you stupid hero, you owe me eight desserts! Big ones! Understand?” He points at me.

I gulp and nod.

“Good.” Ayan exhales, satisfied.

Everyone exchanges half-smiling looks, and I drop my head.

“There is something Rita, Ayan and Rence need to tell you,” Miss Brown says.

The group swaps glances, and Rence gives Rita a nod. “I think you should tell him.”

Rita heaves a massive sigh and then tells me the most incredible story I have ever heard.

It all began the day Max and I nearly drowned.