I wake up in the afternoon. I didn’t dream about anything, which I am grateful for. There is sunshine outside, still, and the wind is blowing, still, and I wonder if it will ever end, that wind. The storm, those strong casts, should have been over hours ago, but it only continues, without mercy. But it’s sunshine, at least. That is something.
I walk across the hall, into the small bathroom, taking off my clothes, realizing that I have not showered since I came here. My hair is so greasy, and I reek of sweat, I have even forgotten to put on deodorant the past few days. Or have I? I cannot remember.
My teeth shake as I huddle beneath the little crane in the corner, ice-cold salt water embracing me. Goosebumps rise up my arms and legs, covering me, yanking at my skin. What would I not have given to have a real shower. Warm water. I would have stayed there forever, under the beams, until this whole experienced has been washed of off me. No. I don’t want that, I do not want to forget. It wouldn’t have been fair. Still, I close my eyes and dream of a shower.
I walk downstairs, feeling a little better, more alert, now that I am clean. My hair is pulled back in a towel to dry.
“Hello my dear, how are you?” Madani says. She looks at me a little worried.
“I’m OK,” I say, because it is true, after all, I am OK. Not good or bad, just something, someone, in between.
“That’s good. Do you want some dinner? I’ve made chicken.”
I smile at her.
“Yes, I’m starving.”
She leads me into the house, to the small kitchen table. It looks like the others have already eaten; there are still plates on the table with leftovers on them.
“I heard it was a Landing in the morning,” Madani says, placing a clean plate in front of me.
“Yes,” I say.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She sits in front of me, over the table. I place chicken and rice on my plate, pouring over some brown sauce.
“No,” I say.
She nods.
“Any casualties?” she asks. Her eyes are burning into mine, this is important for her to know, somehow.
“Yes. A baby.”
Her eyes tear up and she leaves the room, apologizing, and I eat my meal in silence.
Afterward, I sit in the chair in my room. That one chair, that looks so out of place, in here, with no table to accompany it. I place it in front of the window, so I can look out while sitting there. White curtains hang at the sides. There is a small brown stain on one of them, almost invisible, you have to look for it to see it. I sit like this, looking at the curtains, examining them, and then looking out the window, there is a citrus tree right outside my window, it has tiny lemons on them, green ones, not yet yellow. Eventually I take up my phone, going over the news feed, over the notifications. Some celebrity has put out a photo of herself without Photoshop. I look at the photo, and she looks exactly the same, yet it is the only thing the people back home talk about. I put my phone away again, afraid I might break it.
I close my eyes and try to make my mind a blank, silent, still, no ripples.