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A week later, Yusuf and Ellie rocked in a pod of the Ferris wheel, pleased to be alone and without the scrutiny and needs of others. Jet trails threaded through the cobalt sky above them. A calm settled over Yusuf’s soul to be here above the bustle of the city and the circus, where silence soothed him and allowed his thoughts the space to unfold. Here, no chatter or footsteps drew his attention, no march of the drums or chug of engines. He turned inward and found no shame, only familiarity and calm.
Ellie’s body fitted snugly into the crook of his arm, and Yusuf marvelled at the change in and around him. Just days ago, up on the Ferris wheel, he’d felt as broken as the rusting frame. But despite the pain of his past, and the possible ruptures that littered his–and anyone’s–future, Allah had not abandoned him. He wondered at his luck when some had none.
They’d managed to save the circus. Home wasn’t just the buildings or the land, it was the people he surrounded himself with, the ones who fought for and believed in him. It was the ghost of memories, of loved ones who had protected him.
He kissed Ellie’s brow, and she turned her face to his, and he discerned anticipation in her eyes. He laughed. “What are you up to?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. A girl doesn’t always have to be plotting and planning, you know.”
“That’s a shame,” he said. “Because I was hoping you’d help me get my circus classes off the ground. I could even teach you the trapeze. You might like it.”
She shuddered. “You know what I’m like with heights, but I think I might be a dab hand with the clown car.”
Yusuf laughed, then grew sombre. “I’ve been thinking about visiting Karl in prison. How do you think he’d feel about someone like me visiting him?”
Ellie sat up, and he missed her heat against his skin. “He’s a convicted neo-Nazi, Yusuf. If he’s in his right mind, he’ll be grateful for your news. It was kind of you to ask the Chancellor.”
“A promise is a promise, and besides, she was in a good mood. Maybe his sister doing well is just what he needs. Maybe it’ll change him.”
He missed Selim more than anything then, and thought of how his brother would never have wasted the chance of a life in a country like this, where opportunities teemed at every corner. Perhaps he’d have been a teacher, a professor, or even a government official, someone who could drive change. He gulped down his sorrow, because the clouds had cleared, finally, and he was determined to look to the future, not dwell on the past.
“I wish I’d been able to convince the Chancellor that Dawud belongs with us. I’m scared for him,” he said. An involuntary shudder ran through his body, a premonition that the boy would not be okay. It hurt for Dawud to be gone. Simeon missed him, too. Yusuf worried that Dawud wouldn’t survive alone. That he’d get caught up in violence or would try to end it all.
Ellie curled into him. “I’m so sorry, Yusuf. I wish she’d agreed. In her mind, the decision had already been taken.”
“Where politicians direct their interest has power. I don’t want him to be alone or forgotten.”
“You could sue, you know,” said Ellie. “Despite the circus being open, you could sue. Silberling’s still trying to weasel back into the political scene.”
Yusuf drew his eyebrows together, puzzled. He shook his head. “Why would I, and risk everything the state has given me? It’d be churlish. Besides, I’m not a saint. We all need a fresh start.”
She collapsed into him again, pensive.
“I’ve come to love this country as I do my own. I don’t need more than I have already.”
He lied, because losing Doris made him miss his mother even more, but it seemed ungracious to admit in that moment, and Ellie was almost enough to fill the chasm. He loved her fiercely, for her intellect and her compassion and her willingness to question everything.
“I’m going to make something of my life, you know. One day, I’ll hold one of those gold-embossed maroon booklets in my hand, and I won’t have to worry about men turning up in the night and telling me I don’t belong. I’ll belong here. I’m going to work hard, pay my taxes, and be somebody.”
“You already are somebody.”
They looked out across the city skyline, at the high-rises and parks, the trail of railway lines and cars like ants. A plane passed overhead, and he thought of the future, and how perhaps one day his own children would travel back and forth, nonchalantly, simply because they could, because they belonged and would always be welcomed back. For them, travel would equate to joy and adventure, not fear and displacement.
He stared across the horizon, with Ellie at his side, considering how many decades might pass before a city like this considered people like him one of their own. How long it would take for his children, and their children, to feel rooted to this place? How long before men and women like him could know that they never had to worry about being bombed, or turfed out, or having bellies ache with emptiness? Why should some children be more likely to leave their mark on the world than his own just because of an accident of birth and a land’s history? To ride on yachts and play violins? To dream and be protected?
A thought slipped through the net in his mind, and he centred on it, forcing it back. “You didn’t tell me what you asked of the Chancellor.”
Her green eyes twinkled. “You’ll know soon enough.”
He tickled her then, and she crumpled, gasping for him to stop.
They kissed, and her lips lingered on his. She’d kicked off her boots, too warm on this balmy night, and her bare soles idled against his calves. He longed for the moment to stretch forever, so when car doors slammed below and she pulled away, he grumbled.
“One day, your curiosity will bite you in the bottom,” he said.
She didn’t respond, but peered below, suddenly tensing. “They’re here.”
Yusuf frowned. “Who?” He followed her gaze, and spied a car below, not unlike the one that used to transport Silberling to the circus. He settled back into his seat. He didn’t want to be distracted from Ellie, the way her fingers caressed his arm, and her hair that rippled in the wind.
She crammed her feet into her boots, grabbed his hand and pulled him up.
His brow furrowed. “Why the hurry?”
“You’ll want to see this,” she said with a gentleness in her manner that touched him, one he hadn’t seen before.
He stood, and the cab swung precariously as they shifted their weight and eased out, clambering ever downwards until they reached the ground. Ellie had grown practiced at the descent, and she hurried this time, more careless and confident than she had been before.
At the bottom, he reached out his hand to her, and she tugged him across the short distance to the car gleaming in the early evening light.
He laughed, nonplussed. “What are you doing?”
“Trust me.”
“Always.”
His heart stilled.
Imam Saeed was there, and Leyla with her arm around a woman’s shoulders.
The woman was frailer than he remembered.
He let Ellie’s hand fall from his grasp and ran to her. His fingers searched her face, working their way across the shadows under the eyes, the deep fault-lines in her skin. Milky tears trailed down her face.
They spoke in their native Arabic.
“Maa. Do my eyes deceive me?”
“No, my son.”
He studied every inch of her worn skin. “You had a long journey.”
She wrapped her scarf closer around her head. “They treated me well.”
“Is Selim’s grave moss-green like he would have liked it?”
Her eyes became glassy with tears. “I tried.”
Still he held back, holding on to his last shred of dignity in front of Ellie and Leyla and the Imam. “How did they convince you to come here, to leave Syria?”
“They told me you needed me,” said his mother.
He crumpled into her embrace, and was home.
But... don’t stop here. Please keep reading for more, including our Bonus Content—not just one, but two Special Sneak Previews:
BETWEEN TWO DOORS by Taye DeVere
and
PARTICIPANT by Carmen Kemp
