Arranging Fatima’s escape to Turkey might prove to be her last accomplishment on the job, Maysoun muses. When she told Peter that the organization had helped refugees go through Syria to destinations further afield by allowing them to hide in ambulances, she had not been telling the whole truth. She had heard of one driver who, while transporting a wounded man from a battlefield to a hospital in Turkey, found a stowaway in the ambulance on arrival. The driver had not been disciplined because he had not known about it, but she realizes now that if it is discovered that she had helped Fatima and her children get away, her position as one of the top administrators of this organization might be compromised. Still, she has no intention of putting a stop to the plan; she senses everything that is defiant in her asserting itself.
Since Peter and Fatima came to see her, Maysoun has determined which ambulance driver she will approach to take Fatima and her children to Turkey. When she meets with him, away from the office, she will reassure him that should he meet any trouble at any time during the trip or at its end, he is to say that she ordered him to allow Fatima and the children on to the ambulance and that he had had no choice but to follow that command. Once everything with the driver is arranged, all she will have to do is let Peter and Hannah know the date she has set for Fatima to depart.
She takes her reading glasses off, places them on her desk, lifts both arms above her head and stretches her upper body. She looks up when one of her colleagues appears at her office door.
—I’m going now, Maysoun, he says, looking and sounding as tired as she is. I guess you’ll be the last one to leave so will you lock up?
—I’ll be on my way too in a moment but yes, of course, I’ll lock up. See you tomorrow.
But instead of preparing to leave, she finds that she is reluctant to move out of her chair. Is it because she feels some sense of an ending to what has been her life these past few years, to the path she seems at times inadvertently to have taken since she left Iraq?
She reaches for the laptop in her bag and places it on the desk once again. She searches for the Skype icon and telephones Jalal, though she cannot be sure he will be available at this hour.
Just as her call is answered and Jalal comes on to the screen, she realizes that since it is late afternoon in Beirut, it is very early in the morning in Auckland.
—Oh, no, she exclaims. I’m so sorry, I forgot what the time is there, Jalal. Please, go back to sleep. I’ll hang up right away.
—No, no, don’t go, he says. It is early here but I wasn’t asleep. Look, I’m on my balcony having a coffee.
He turns the telephone around and she looks out on to what she imagines is the darkness of the South Pacific.
—I don’t believe you, she laughs. I can’t see anything at all.
—It’s good to hear from you, Maysoun. His voice is softer now. How are things? Is Nazha still there with you?
—No, she left a few days ago. She’s back in Baghdad. She refused to stay here.
She hears him sigh.
—Well, I understand why she would want to do that.
—Hmmm. Not sure I do, but tell me how are the girls? How are your sisters?
—They’re all doing very well, alhamdulillah. They love it here, you know. He chuckles. I mean I had an idea the girls would like it when we came out here. But their aunts? I don’t think they’ve ever enjoyed this much freedom. They have their own home not far from us and have made a good circle of friends among the community.
—But you like living there too, don’t you? Maysoun asks.
—Yes, I do, but there are moments when I miss home. That’s inevitable, isn’t it?
—Of course it is. We all feel that way at some point, I suppose.
—Are you OK, Maysoun? You look a bit down. What’s happened? How’s your work going?
She sighs.
—I have to admit it’s beginning to get to me. There’s so much that needs to be put right and so little being done. Sometimes I feel the results we’re achieving aren’t worth all the effort. There are times when I just want to pick up and leave it all behind.
—I can understand how you must be feeling, he says. I believe the map of the Middle East is being deliberately redrawn through all this conflict. We were getting too close to liberating ourselves from dictators and corrupt governments a couple of years ago and the powers that be had to put a stop to that.
She shakes her head.
—I don’t know, Jalal. I just think whatever the initial intentions behind the uprisings, things have spiralled out of control. There just doesn’t seem to be any way out of all this. We’re even having a difficult time trying to alleviate the suffering of refugees, whether in this part of the world or as they risk their lives trying to get to Europe.
—It’s pointless worrying, especially when there’s so little you can do about it anyway. I wish you would think seriously of leaving the region. There is a life out here, you know.
—Well, that’s actually what I called to ask you about.
—Oh?
—I … I was just wondering if the invitation to come to New Zealand is still open. She gestures vaguely behind her. I mean I’ve only just realized that I need a break from all this, she continues.
He grins at her and she smiles back.
—I won’t impose on you for long, she says.
He tells her that his hope is once she gets there that she will want to make of New Zealand a permanent home.
—That sounds perfect, Maysoun says, feeling something close to joy.