Tuesday, April 29, 2014
To My Dearest,
I saw Michael again yesterday and was left in tears. But not because of him – he was an angel. Michael asked to see me because he had some important news that he preferred to share in person.
Anxious to hear what he had to say, I waited for him on the steps of Low Library, where he said he would meet me, by the Alma Mater statue. A few minutes later, he showed up with his book bag slung over one of his broad shoulders. We hugged briefly and then we sat down on the steps, in a secluded spot nearby, and he told me the terrible news: one of his rebel contacts told him that he thinks my sister was kidnapped after she and the rest of my family in Syria were assaulted while fleeing the Islamist onslaught on Kessab.
“My source isn’t completely sure and needs to look into it more. But I wanted to tell you as soon as I heard, because it’s really not something that you’d be able to find out very easily on your own, and I can’t even imagine how much you’ve been thinking about your relatives.”
I put my head on his shoulder and started to cry. “I try to call them on Skype or their cell at least twice a day. And there’s never an answer.” He wrapped his arm around my back to comfort me.
“Inās, look at me,” he said, cupping my cheek gently with his palm and turning me towards his eyes. “I promise you, I will get you whatever information I can, as fast as I can. And if Maria has indeed been kidnapped, then I will do everything in my power to secure her release. Even if I have to go get her myself.”
Some more tears flowed from my eyes, both at Maria’s possible plight and at Michael’s beautifully selfless heroism. “Thank you, Michael,” I said, wiping some tears away.
He kissed my forehead and held me for a while on the steps as I cried. With so many emotions stirring me, I ended up speaking far more freely and openly than I would have otherwise planned to, but he was very kind and understanding, so I didn’t have any regrets in the end.
“Michael, I can’t hide things from you anymore. You mean too much to me, and you deserve to know before anything more happens between us, so you can decide what you think is best. But the truth is that I gave myself to Professor Morales, and – believe it or not – I did it largely to secure a big donation, both to impress you and to help the cause. I was really torn about it because I wasn’t sure if you’d ever forgive me, even though we agreed to keep things casual and light. I still had feelings for you and felt torn about the whole thing. But we also really needed the money for MCA and I wanted to do whatever I could to help.”
“I know, Inās,” he said gently, running his fingers through my hair. “I pushed you in that direction, out of desperation for the cause, so I can hardly blame you for going there, even if it tore me apart to think about it.”
“And there’s something else that you should know. I lied to you about my past. There was no car accident. My parents were massacred by a group of Islamists who nearly murdered me too. I got away only because one of them raped me, and that slowed down their slaughter long enough for my older brother to arrive with an armed guard. I escaped in the gun battle that followed. But the next day I saw – in a horrific YouTube video – that they were all beheaded,” I burst into tears. “So all that’s left of my family in Syria is what you can manage to find.”
Michael held me tighter. “Oh God, Inās. I’m so sorry. So terribly sorry to hear what you and your family have been through.”
“It’s a trauma that I’ve been struggling to live with for the last two years. I’ve tried lying to myself and to everyone else, including you. But I ended up finally coming to terms with it, and – as someone I feel so close to – you deserve to have the truth, so I finally had to tell you.”
It was excruciating to recount all of those details, but I had to tell him, and a great weight felt as if it had been lifted, now that I no longer had to lie to him about my past or try to hide that I had slept with Professor Morales. And I was so relieved that Michael still accepted me.
Despite my confession, I felt some lingering guilt for having made Professor Morales “first” on the biggest steps of trust and intimacy: I shared my body and my personal story with him before Michael. But so much of that happened when I was swept up in countless emotions, a student-professor crush, and the desire to help as much, and as fast, as I could.
By the end of that hour-long chat on the steps, Michael and I ended up in a really long and passionate kiss. As our lips were pressed together, and our tongues endlessly explored each other’s mouths, it felt as if we were both relieved and happy finally to be “home” – as if we had each realized the folly of trying to date outside of our community and were grateful for this second chance to be together.
Then, today, at my request, Michael showed up at Hamilton Hall to pick me up from my Psychology and Markets class. I asked him to pick me up there for a few reasons: I wanted to feel more comfortable in an intrinsically uncomfortable situation, I intended to show Michael that I was very much choosing him over my professor now, and I hoped to deter Professor Morales from even trying to talk to me after his lecture while also showing him that I was proud, strong, attractive, and had already successfully moved on from him. This was my first time seeing Professor Morales since breaking things off with him, so it felt tense and awkward for me, and I avoided his gaze for the entire time that I was in the room with him. But I’m pretty sure he saw Michael standing just outside the entrance, as other students were leaving after the class adjourned, and my professor probably also noticed me moving excitedly towards Michael and taking his hand as we both left the area together.