Away From Rubble by Mercie21
Summary:

All Noah has known in life has been war, pain and loss. Now, he has a chance to start a new life, in a new city, with a new family, And above all those, he has a chance to find love.


Categories: Original Fiction Characters: None
Classification: None
Genre: Comedy , Drama, Family, Romance
Story Status: Active
Pairings: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 3 Completed: No Word count: 9581 Read: 9583 Published: May 21 2016 Updated: January 10 2017

1. Prologue by Mercie21

2. My Mommy Says by Mercie21

3. Stir Fry Rice by Mercie21

Prologue by Mercie21
Author's Notes:

I really hope you enjoy this. 

It was cold here. I liked it. It was different to what I was used to. Everything here was different than what I was used to. Everything was going to be different.

I took a deep breath as I pulled the blanket tighter around my body to block out the brisk cold air. It was kind of hard to block out the cold considering the shivers I felt ran through my bones and not my skin.

“Everything okay, Noah?” Mrs. Hamilton asked. I’d only met Mrs. Hamilton not fifteen minutes ago but I instinctively knew that she was a good person. I could tell from looking into her light green eyes that she had a kind soul.

I nodded and gave Mrs. Hamilton a small smile. I wasn’t in the mood to talk but I didn’t want her to think that I didn’t like her.

I couldn’t remember the last time I spoke. I do, however, remember the last few times I used my voice. I used it to scream and yell, not for a day, not for a week, but for months. I’d over used it and now, my voice had become hoarse and scratchy. It took a lot out of me to even say a simple word like, “hi,” so forming complete sentences was out of the question.

I took a look inside the car for the first time. It was relatively clean. There was a pile of blankets folded onto the seat next to me just in case I needed more. What I really needed, was my small backpack that held my few belongings.

Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton were holding hands and whispering softly to each other. They both looked worried but happy.

Mr. Hamilton and I made eye contact through the rearview mirror and he bounced in his seat and in a booming voice said, “So, Noah,” For a man that looked the way he did, he didn’t have a deep voice, it was just…loud. He had a thick beard and had a large build. He wore a leather jacket and a toque. “Is this your first time seeing snow?”

I smiled and shook my head. At first, I thought that would be enough but I saw the excitement in Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton’s eyes fade. It made me uneasy, so I took a deep breath and cleared my throat. “It snowed in Syria as well,” I rasped. “Bu…but wh…wh...” I grew embarrassed as I wheezed instead of spoke.

“It’s okay, Noah,” Mr. Hamilton said in a soft comforting voice. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a singer. He sounded like one. Even his words had melody to it. Every noise he made sounded like a lullaby. “You don’t have to talk.”

No. I didn’t, but I wanted to. I was tired of keeping quiet or yelling. It seemed like those where the only two things I’ve done for months. When I wasn’t screaming for my family, I was silent when the militants were near.

“When it snowed in Syria,” I continued. “The snow would melt right after it hit the ground. I liked it when it snowed.”

“Well,” Mrs. Hamilton cheered clapping her hands and rubbing them together. “You’ll love the weather here. When the snow hits the ground, it tends to stay on the ground for a long time. You can make snowmen and snow angels.” Mrs. Hamilton tapped her index finger to her chin in thought. “Oh what else can we do dear?” she asked her husband.

“We can have snowball fights,” Mr. Hamilton said laughing. “You and I can gang up and Elena, Noah.” That made Mrs. Hamilton giggle and lean over to kiss he husband’s cheek. “We can also go tobogganing, if you like.”

I nodded at him in agreement. Those things sounded fun.

“Look,” Mrs. Hamilton said pointing outside. “That’s the CN tower.”

It looked huge. I had to press my face up against the window to get a view of the entire thing. Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton had promised me that they’d take me there sometime this week, after I settle in.

My older brother Omar would’ve loved the architectural structure of the buildings here. He was an architect major and he dedicated his life to it. He was so passionate about it. It was his dream to one day travel to Dubai or America and help make large buildings that people loved and lived in. That people on the street would look up at in awe.

Omar didn’t just love new and modern buildings, he loved old ones too. “These hold stories, Noah,” he told me a few years ago as we made our way back home from the market. “These were made hundreds of years ago and they’re still here. They’re rich in culture. They hold memories. It’s beautiful.”

His love for the buildings and their structures died when the terrorists bombed the buildings shattering Omar’s hope and dreams along with the rubble.

The buildings here had life, they had hope. Omar would’ve loved it.

It seemed like everyone here was in a good mood. It was about two weeks after Christmas but some people still had their lights up. It was beautiful.

“We’re here,” Mr. Hamilton said stopping the car in front of a large two story house. Why did two people need such a huge house?

“Thank you, Mr. Hamilton,” I murmured.

Mr. Hamilton turned around in his seat to face me. “You don’t have to keep calling us Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton,” he said with a kind tone. “You can call us Alan and Elena.”

“Or dad and mom,” Mrs. – Elena added. “But whenever you’re ready and only if you want to.”

I nodded and pulled the blanket closer towards me. I don’t know if I could do it. My mom and dad were spectacular parents’ who lost their lives protecting Omar and I. They’d freely given it for us, without a second thought. “All I want is for you to live your life, baby,” my mother had said with her tears in her eyes.

“Why are you crying mom?” I’d asked. I didn’t understand what was happening at first. I looked at the front of the house and saw Omar crying over our father, who laid still on top of a pool of his blood and the blood of the militant he managed to kill whilst protecting us. I was only eight at the time. I still didn’t have it wrapped around my head about what was going on. I thought my dad was just being silly because he liked to do that. He loved pranking Omar and I all the time. “What’s dad doing this time,” I asked my mom giggling.

“He’s just sleeping a bit,” my mom said coughing. Blood sprayed out of her mouth when she coughed but I thought it was some of the fruit punched she loved to drink so much. She loved drinking it so much that she even spilt some on her tummy. “I’m going to go to sleep too, soon,” she said brushing away the fruit punch from her lips and wiping her tears.

“Mommy, why are you crying?” I’d asked getting worried. Daddy never went still for this long. He was always moving and playing with Omar and I. He liked to grab us, throw us in the air and catch us at the last possible moment before we hit the ground.

“Mom,” Omar cried coming to hug our mom. Our mom winced but she hugged him back harder and tighter than he hugged her. Our mom grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me into the hug as well. “Mom, please don’t go,” Omar sobbed.

Seeing Omar cry made me cry because Omar never cried unless he was really hurt, like the time he broke his wrist trying to climb a tree. I was crying but I didn’t know what for. Everything was fine.

Our mom pulled us away and smiled. She needed to go out to the sun a bit more because she looked a little pale and I know how much my mom loved looking tan and being out in the sun.

“I love you boys,”

“We love you too,” Omar and I said at the same time.

“Promise me you’ll be safe,” she said holding our cheeks in both her palms. “Promise me you’ll look after one another and protect each other and stay together?” Omar and I nodded and promised. “Promise me you’ll live on and try to have a nice life in a new place.” Once again, we promised. “Help me get up and walk over to your father,” our mom requested.

It took time, but we finally helped our mom up and move her over to our dad. She then laid herself beside our father and put her head over his heart. “I’ll be right there,” she whispered to him. “I love you boys so much,” she said closing her eyes.

That was the first time I started screaming. For hours I just sat there, shaking my parents’ unresponsive bodies, yelling and pleading for them to wake up.

See, that was why I didn’t want to call Elena and Alan mom and dad. Sure, I liked them and they were kind, but they weren’t anything like my mom and dad. No one could ever be them or replace them.

“Okay, let’s get you all set up,” Elena said bringing my attention to the present. She opened her door and slide out of the car. The clock in the car read 9:03pm.

I followed after Elena and opened my door too. Alan was already at the trunk pulling out my bag. “There you go, champ,” he said handing it over to me.

“Thank you.”

Elena came up behind me and put her arm over my shoulder. “I know you must be tired,” she said looking down at me. “We have everything set up for you in your room. You can sleep in as long as you want and when you wake up, we can do anything you like.”

“Okay,” I approved.

Alan and Elena showed me my room and promised to show me the rest of the house tomorrow morning. My room had a bed, a desk, a computer, a swivel chair, a drawer and an attached bathroom.

“Let us know if you need anything else,” Alan said as he pulled his wife out of the room to give me privacy.

“Thank you,” I breathed before they could leave the room.

“No need to thank us,” Alan said smiling softly at me.

Taking a shower took longer than I expected. One minute, I was just taking a shower to get clean and go to sleep and the next minute, I was taking a shower to wipe away the horrors of war. Maybe if I rubbed my skin raw, it would erase all the tragic images that floated behind my eyelids every time I closed my eyes.

It didn’t. No amount of water could cleanse the ache of watching everyone you loved die, all because a crazy group of people wanted power and control.

I finally turned off the tap when the water felt like it was burning my skin. Alan and Elena had laid out my pajamas on my bed.  They were comfortable and warm.

I grabbed my backpack and threw it on the bed.

This would be the first time I’d open it after leaving Syria. In it contained Omar’s necklace. It was just a silver chain necklace but he treasured it. I never understood why. It was what he gave me with trembling bloody hands, a brave smile and encouraging last words.

Also in the bag, contained my parents’ wedding rings. When they had passed Omar had been smart enough to grab this very bag and fill it with things we’d need, such as food and bottled water, and things we’d treasure like family heirlooms, our parents’ Qurans and their diaries. He even took the wedding bands from their bodies. I yelled at him for doing that. I pleaded with him to leave things as they were but he’d been resistant. I’m glad he did it now. I’m grateful he didn’t listen to me, because now, I have something, physical things, to remember my family by.

The happiness of my early childhood was shoved in this bag. Other than my life, it was the thing I am most grateful for.

I slipped Omar’s necklace through my parents’ rings and hung it around my neck. It must’ve seemed silly but it made me feel safe. It made me feel like mom, dad and Omar we’re okay. It made me feel warm. I kissed the rings and help them tight in my fist and let sleep consume me.

Waking up the next morning was a bit strange. It was the first time in a long time I woke up without nightmares. I had to orientate myself with where I was because everything was so different.

“You’re up!” Elena cheered as she opened the bedroom door. “Did you want to join us for breakfast or do you want to go back to sleep. I know you must be tired.”

“I’ll have breakfast if that’s okay,” I said shyly as my stomach rumbled.

“Of course it is sweetie,” Elena smiled as she pushed her hair behind her ears. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

Breakfast was nice. It allowed me to know Elena and Alan more. They were very kind, funny and intelligent. I could tell that they really liked me and they were trying their hardest to make me like them as well.

I was watching television with Elena while Alan washed the dishes when I heard screams coming from outside. All of a sudden, I felt like I was back home in the middle of a ceasefire. I curled myself into a ball and closed my eyes.  

I must’ve screamed because when I felt warms arms holding me, I opened my eyes to see Alan and Elena holding me and whispering soft words into my ears.

“They’re just playing,” Alan said. “It’s our neighbours; they’re having a snowball fight. Want to go see?”

I slowly nodded and grabbed Alan’s offered hand as he lead me to the window to watch as about ten kids and five adults played around in the snow, hitting each other with balls of snow.

As the tremor and fear I felt faded away, I looked up at Alan and asked, “Can we go play?”

If I was to move on, why not start now? Why delay it? I know it’s what my family would’ve wanted.

“Sure,” Alan said ruffling my hair. “Anything you want.”

For the first time in a long time, I truly smiled. Not because I felt like someone needed to see me smile or because I had to smile as a form of communication, but because I wanted to, because, I was happy.

I had hope.

 

I was safe. 

End Notes:

Hi Lovely Ladies! Thank you so much for reading this!! I really hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you thought of the first chapter!

My Mommy Says by Mercie21

Being a child psychologist and therapist was a lot of hard work, a lot harder than I ever thought possible. Of course I knew that going into it, I just never thought it'd be as emotionally and physically demanding as it was. Yes, I knew I'd have plenty of tough cases and not everything was going to be easy because if anyone knew half of what my patients were going through, it was me. I endured things as a child that no person, let alone child, should ever have to endure. 

But no matter how stressful and demanding the job could get, I loved it. I loved everything about it. I loved my patients and I'd do anything for them. So finding myself punching a bag of sand in an overheated gym filled with sweaty huffing people on a Sunday afternoon was not at all surprising.

“How’s he doing?” Denver asked as he kicked the punching bag. He was much more fluid in his movements than I was. I was tired and weak and I just wanted to sit down and talk, but if exercising was the only way I could get Denver to talk, then so be it.

“He’s coping,” I answered punching the bag. My blows to it gradually becoming weaker and weaker as my arms felt like noodles.

“That’s all you’re going to tell me?” Denver angrily questioned.

“Denver,” I sighed giving up hitting the bag, “you know I can’t share another patient’s information. It’s private.”

“He’s my brother though,” Denver said punching the bag faster and harder.

“I know,” I said looking down at my shoes.

Denver and his fraternal twin brother, Roy, became my patients six months ago.

The first time I met them, I was intimidated by them to be honest. They were 16 but they were huge. It was clear they worked out a lot. They were both very stoic and neither of them said anything useful during the first five months.

It took me five months to figure out that the brothers only spoke about their feelings and issues when they were working out. It was a breakthrough for me but it also broke my body because I wasn’t used to such strenuous activity like this. Denver liked working out at the gym; lifting weights, hitting and kicking punching bags, martial arts, running on treadmills, the whole shebang. Roy, however, hated the gym. He liked playing outdoor sports. He liked football, tennis, soccer, swimming. He even liked dancing.

The boys hadn’t revealed too much about themselves, but with each session they were opening up more and more. I knew they had issues with their father, who was in prison for abusing their mother. I knew they’d fought off their dad in order to protect their mom and that was why they had an obsession with the gym and staying fit. They knew their dad would get out in a couple of years and they wanted to be ready for anything.

That was all I knew about them. Some information I picked up and some I just assumed, but I knew there was more to it and if I had to burn what felt like 5000 calories a day to do it, then so be it.

“I think we’re done for today,” I said removing the boxing gloves from his hands.

“We have half an hour left,” Denver said glancing at the wall clock just above the mirror where all the dumbbells were.  

“I know,” I sighed. “I thought we could get some ice cream. My treat.”

“I gotta watch my figure,” Denver refused tapping his stomach with his ungloved hand.

I thought he was serious until I saw a little tick from the corner of his lips.

“Ha ha, very funny. I should make you pay for them now.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Denver grinned grabbing his towel and throwing it over his shoulder. We cleaned our equipment in silence and it took all the strength I barely had left in me to not collapse on the floor.

“Any plans tomorrow?” he asked as we walked out the gym into fresh clean air.

“Not at all,” I grinned. “I’m going on a one week staycation,” I happily said thinking of all the sleep I was going to catch up on.

“That’s nice,” Denver said.

“Yes it is.”

I’m just going to sleep, eat and watch television.

Well at least I thought I was, until my mom called me at 7am in the morning begging me to come by to the house to do her a favour.

“Mom, call Selena,” I groaned into the phone. “She’ll be glad to help you.”

Selena was my adoptive sister who was adopted about a year after I was. She was born in Mexico. Her parents had given her up right after birth because they were not wealthy enough to give her the life they wished they could.

Our adoptive parents were amazing and Selena and I loved them so much but sometimes we couldn’t help but think of our real parents’. Selena had it worse than me. I knew my parents’. I grew up around them and they, along with my brother Omar, were my everything and I loved them so much. I still do. I lived for them.

Selena however never met her biological parents’. She never got to experience anything with them. She has no idea where they are and she has no idea if she has any siblings.

Selena and I bonded right away. She was like the little sister (though she was technically older, but I was adopted first so that had to count for something), I never wanted but loved anyways. It took Selena and I roughly 3 years before we started calling our adopted parents mom and dad.

“Selena’s busy,” mom said losing her patience.

“I bet you $500 she’s not,” I said pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Noah, get here now,” she ordered before hanging up.

I huffed and sat up in my bed. This was ridiculous. I’d made sure to let everyone know I was on holiday and I didn’t want anyone to bother me for a week. Yes, it sounded bratty but I was really tired. Especially from all the exercise I did with Denver the day before.

I got ready and out of my small apartment in record time. On my short walk to my car, I called Selena to see if she was really truly busy.

“Hello,” Selena groaned into the phone.

“Are you in bed?” I asked incredulously. Of course she was busy…busy sleeping. “You told mom you were busy?!” I yelled into the phone. I got a few glares from the people on the street that were making their way to work on this fine Monday morning.

“What are you talking about?” Selena asked, her voice sounding more awake.

“Mom called me to come help her with something, -“

“But you’re on vacation,” Selena said.

“Yes, I know!”

“Why didn’t she ask me?” Selena asked.

“I know, wait,” I said opening my car door and getting in. “She didn’t call you?”

“No,” Selena answered.

“She told me she did and that you were busy.”

“Well, she lied. Tell me how it goes,” Selena said hanging up and most likely going back to sleep. Did anyone in my family say goodbye on the phone anymore?

With the heavy traffic, it took about half an hour to get to my parents’ house, it usually took 10 minutes.

“My baby,” mom shrieked when she saw me, her attitude very different from when we were on the phone earlier. “How’s my baby doing,” she said giving me a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m 30 mom, I’m not a baby. Where’s dad?” I asked looking around.

“Oh he went to work a bit early,” she said ushering me to the kitchen and handing me a plate of waffles.

“Thanks,” I said immediately digging in.

“So I called you today because I’d like you to come to work with me,” she said getting right to the chase.

“I’m not taking a break from work to do work of another kind,” I said around my food.

“Please,” she begged giving me her classic puppy dog eyes. I could feel myself breaking. “It’s Mental Health Awareness Week and I’d like you to come to the school to talk to the kids about mental health.”

“Okay fine,” I agreed too easily.

“For the entire week,” she added. I opened my mouth to reject that but she put her palm up. “Our guidance counselors are on maternity and paternity leave so there’s no one else qualified to do it.”

“At both schools?” I asked shocked.

“Yeah, they’re married. You didn’t know?”

Mom taught at a school that was so large, they had two separate buildings. One building was dedicated to children from pre-kindergarten to grade 8. The other building was for grades 9-12.  Mom taught the grade 6 students.

“The school could’ve hired someone,” I said finishing my breakfast.

“I know, I just thought it’d be nice if we could give back to the school somehow,” she pouted. “I just love that school so much and I love you so much and I thought you loved the school too.”

“Fine,” I sighed shaking my head to clear my thoughts. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you, Noah,” she said giving me a tight hug.

“Anything I can do to help.”

It couldn’t be that bad, could it?

It was.

It was pretty bad.

I thought the school was going to hold an assembly and I’d just say hi, introduce myself and tell the kids I was available to help them with any issues all week and that’d be it. But no, that was not the case. They had me go into every single classroom and make a speech.

I was currently in one of the two grade 3 classes were the kids were very curious as to what I did and who I was.

After I did my little speech and asked the kids if they had any questions, a lot of the started to shout their questions at me.

“One at a time,” their teacher said. He sat at his desk and pointed at the kids one by one after they’d settled down and raised their hands for their questions.

“My mommy says that therapists have problems of their own and they don’t like to admit to it so they look at other peoples’ problems to feel better.”

“Well that sounds practiced,” I whispered to myself. “Your mom says that a lot?” I asked the little girl. She nodded. “Everyone has problems,” I told the little girl, “Even me, but wanting to help someone does not mean you don’t or cannot help yourself. Having problems of your own does not mean you cannot help someone else. When you do homework,” I asked her trying to give her an example, “and you’re stuck on a question you don’t understand but then your friend needs help with her homework too. She’s on a different question that you know the answer to, you help her, right?” when she nodded, I said, “Well, that’s what my job is like.”

“My daddy says that people like you try to make people hate their mommies and daddies.”

“Oh that’s not true bud,” this was not the first time I was hearing this crap. “Sometimes problems happen when you’re really little and sometimes it’s because of mommies and daddies, but you have to remember, mommies and daddies make mistakes too and they’re not perfect just like us. But I don’t want you to hate them. No one wants you to hate them.”

The rest of the questions I got were similar. Parents, grandparents, guardians and even siblings telling these kids outrageous things such as how I wasn’t a real doctor. How I tell people to blame their childhood and parents’ for their messed up lives and not themselves. People telling these children how a person such as myself, was ashamed of their own life so they invaded the lives of other people.

Apart from that, the kids were great and really funny.

I was in a good mood as I walked across the huge field that divided the two schools. The older kids would ask some in depth questions but I knew a few of them were going to say the same stereotypical thing everyone says when they meet a psychiatrist or therapist.

The rest of the classes I visited were a breeze. In some of the classes, no one had any questions or concerns so I was in and out of them in 2 minutes or less.

There were ten more minutes until the students would be let out at 3:30pm and I had one more class to go to. It was a grade 12 biology class.

“Hi,” I said knocking on the already open door. “I’m Noah Yaseen. I’m the psychologist here for Mental Health Awareness Week.”

“Oh yes,” the teacher said putting her chalk down and rubbing the excess chalk dust off her hands. “I’m Miss.Greene. Welcome.”

Miss. Greene looked to be about my age if a little older. She had dark skin and her hair was braided. She was short and a bit chubby and she had an air of confidence to her.  She had a tiny gap in between her two front teeth when she smiled. It was kind of cute.

“Class, we’ll continue our lesson on meiosis next class. For now, please give your attention to Mr. Yaseen.” She said stepping aside as I started my speech.

Like I did in every classroom, as I was saying my speech, I carefully looked at each child to try to read them. It was the psychologist in me. A few of the boys in the back were on their phones not paying any attention to what I was saying and some of the girls in the front were looking at me with heart eyes, which made me very uncomfortable. But there was one kid, who sat near the back that looked at me in a way I couldn’t describe. I wanted to say it was skepticism. He looked at me like I was wrong and I knew nothing. He looked hurt. He looked like a kid in need.

I knew that look all too well.

Just like most of the older grades, the students’ didn’t have any questions for me. “Alright,” I said clapping my hands. “Thank you for your attention, except for the three guys in the back who were on their phones the entire time,” I said. The class turned around to look at them and laugh. “I will be in the guidance office all week if anyone needs anything.”

“Alright, thank you Mr. Yaseen,” Miss. Greene said clapping and getting the students to also clap along with her.

I nodded my head and made my way out the door when I heard a voice say, “How can someone so happy and perfect, who has never had any problems, understand how someone else can be miserable?” I followed the voice to look straight at the kid who I thought looked hurt.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Fin,” he answered. Fin looked wore a black shirt and glasses. He was of average built and looked to be 5’10. He was black too but he wasn’t as dark as Miss. Greene.

“Well Fin, I don’t know what you see when you look at me but I’m not always happy.”

“If you’re not happy,” Fin challenged, “then shouldn’t you work on yourself first before you attempt to help others?”

I nodded at what he said to show him I understood where he was coming from. “Fin, you gotta understand that not all is black and white. I’ve been through a lot. A lot more than you can imagine. I know what I’m doing and I know how to help people, especially young children and youth. I can do it because I’ve been through it.”

I didn’t want to go through this in front of the other students because this seemed more like a conversation Fin and I should have in private.

“I’m here all week, Fin. Come see me.”

Fin stared at me quietly before he shook his head and said, “Nah, I don’t need help.”

I slowly nodded my head and said okay. If Fin wanted to see me, he would. I wouldn’t force his hand.

“How was everything?” mom asked as I waited for her to pack her stuff so we could leave together and I could drop her off at her house.

“Fine I guess,” I shrugged. “I said my speech so many times today I think I’m going to dream saying it all night.”

Mom laughed at me. She’d finally found her keys to lock the classroom door.

“Did you meet Nala?” she asked as we climbed down the stairs.

“No, who’s that?” I asked taking her bags from her so she didn’t have to hold them.

“Miss. Greene,” she answered.

I shook my head when the name didn’t ring a bell.

“She teaches grade 12 biology,” mom explained further.

“Oh right,” I remembered snapping my fingers. “Sorry I forgot. I met this kid in her class named Fin though.”

“You did?” mom asked a little too quickly.

“Yes,” I said suspiciously.

“He’s a good kid,” she said.

“He looked troubled. I told him to come see me, but he refused,” I told her.

Mom frowned before she shrugged and opened the doors leading to the parking lot. “I’m sure he’ll come to you.”

“Hey, Noah?” mom said after we go into the car. “I’m glad you’re doing this.”

“Me too,” I agreed.

I was surprised to see I actually meant it.

 

Maybe this wasn’t how I saw myself spending my staycation but it wasn’t so bad after all. 

End Notes:

If you read the entire chapter, thank you so so much. I really appreciate it! Leave me a comment to let me know what you thought! xoxo

Stir Fry Rice by Mercie21

It was really hard convincing myself that what I was doing was for a good cause when I had to wake up at 6am to go to a school I no longer attended to do a job I was not getting paid to do.

Mom owed me big time.

I groaned into the pillow and closed my eyes for a minute or two just praying that today was going to be better than the day before and that none of the kids were going to tell me outrageous lies their parents’ told them.  

Everything I did was a blur, from the moment I stepped out of bed to the moment I parked my car in the parking lot behind the school. Once I was out the car, I realized what a stupid and reckless thing I’d done. Driving without being aware of your surroundings was insane and I was lucky to make it here okay.

I spotted my mom’s car in the parking lot so I decided to go pay her a little visit. I’d be in the other school’s guidance office for the week so I thought it’d be nice to at least go see her for a short chat.  There was still a little over half an hour before school actually started and I wasn’t sure what to do with myself.

There were only a handful of students arriving to school or already inside the building, which was quite surprising to me. Back in my day, the halls would be filled with people socializing, walking around or trying to copy last minute homework from their friends.

“Hi Mr. Psycho!” a high pitched voice shrieked behind me just before I pushed the doors leading to the second floor.

I turned around to face a young boy smiling at me while waving with the hand that wasn’t being held by his mother. He looked to be around four or five.

“Hey there pal,” I smiled bending down to his level and giving him a high five. I wasn’t about to correct him and tell him that my name wasn’t actually Psycho. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” he said laughing. “I’m going on a field trip today. We’re going to see farm animals!” he said excitedly.

“No way,” I gasped widening my eyes for that dramatic effect kids loved. “You’re one lucky dude.” He agreed by nodding his head quickly. “What animal are you excited to see?” I asked.

“Giraffes!” he all but screamed.

“Honey,” his mom said in a quiet and patient voice, “remember, giraffes aren’t farm animals, so they won’t be there.”  

“Oh yeah,” the kid said pouting. He put his unoccupied hand on his chin and thought hard. “Then I want to see horses.” He quickly looked up at his mom for confirmation. “Horses are farm animals, right mommy?”

“Yes,” she nodded smiling down at her son.

I looked up at his mom and she smiled down at me. I gave her a quick grin in response before I brought my attention back to her son.

“Horses are the coolest,” I said.

“Yeah, but not as cool as giraffes,” the child said still smiling like crazy.

“You’re right,” I agreed shrugging my shoulders.

“Giraffes are so cool because -,”

“Okay son,” the mom said cutting of her kid. “I’m very sure this man has a lot of things to do today and we are taking up all his time.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” I said waving her off. “I have all the time in the world to listen about all the cool things about giraffes.” I leaned in closer to the kid and whispered, “All I know about them is that they have long necks.”

The kid acted like I had said the most scandalous thing in the world. His eyes bulged out and he gasped and held his hand to his mouth. “You have a lot to learn, Mr. Psycho,” he said in a gentle tone. “I’ll teach you.”

I could tell the child’s mother was in a rush so I had to make a compromise with him. “How about you teach me all of it after your trip? We can even talk about all the other farm animals you saw and compare them.”

“Cool,” he said giving me a thumb up and a quick high five.

“I’m sorry but we really have to go,” his mother said fixing her purse strap that had slid off her shoulder, “the school bus is waiting outside and they’re leaving in five minutes.”

“Okay, bye Mr. Psycho,” the kid said waving goodbye as his mother pulled him along towards the back entrance.

I waved until they stepped outside before I got up from my squat. When I first started my career, squatting for more than 30 seconds used to seriously hurt my knees, but I’ve done it so often that now, I feel like I could rest in a squatting position for a long time.

I turned around to push the doors leading to the second floor when my mom pulled it and pushed by me.

“Sorry dear,” she said half mindedly while she stared at a folder in her hands.

Dear? She’s never called me dear before. She only uses that term for strangers. “Hey mom,” I said putting my hand in the air.

Mom stopped in her tracks to turn to me. She looked embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, love,” she said staying in her spot. “I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s fine,” I shrugged putting my hands into my pockets. I wore blue jeans with a simple long sleeved grey shirt. This wasn’t normally the type of clothing I’d wear into work but this wasn’t my office and I wasn’t sure what the dress code was.

“You in a hurry?” I asked mom as I saw her eyeing the back doors.

“Yeah,” she said sadly. “Wish I could stay and chat but a bunch of the grades are going on a field trip today. We’re about to leave and I really need to do a head count of my students before we take off.”

“Okay,” I said shooing her off. “Have a great day!” I yelled as she ran out the door.

So much for coming to pay her a visit.

The office was different.

Not that there was anything wrong with it, it was just very different from mine.

The lights in the office were muted and dull, they had a bit of a yellowish orange tint to them, whereas in my personal office, the lights were bright, not blinding, but bright enough to not feel so…dull and depressing.

The curtain in this office were a deep red that barely let any sun filter into the room, whereas the curtains in my office were a beautiful shade of green that reminded my patients of nature. After all, the colour green was very comforting to depressive people. None of them knew it but studies have shown that green did improve a person’s attitude.

The entire room just felt like what it was, an office, not a place of comfort.

There were pictures everywhere of the counselor and who I was assuming was her husband, the other counselor at the other school. Everything in the office screamed, “DON”T TOUCH ME I’M DELICATE!” Everything from the lamp to the vases to the books that were on the shelves to the pictures, even the chairs looked untouchable.

In my office, I tried to make everything look and feel welcoming, because not everyone liked to spill their guts lying down or sitting on a couch. Some people liked to stand and walk around, look out the window, touch things. Everything here seemed…stiff.

The office even had a scent. It smelt like old wood and incense. The smell wasn’t too strong that it was suffocating but it was enough to make you wish you were outside breathing in fresh clean air.

I sat down on the chair and looked around the room again, this time, paying closer attention to the painting that hung on the wall. They were odd and abstract. I couldn’t tell what they were and I’ve taken the Rorschach Test.

Maybe my mind would change if I sat down and just looked at it from another angle.

My mind didn’t change.

It was only ten-thirty in the morning and I felt like I was losing my mind.

For some reason, I just couldn’t get comfortable in the counselor’s office, no matter how hard I tried.

Nothing could keep me occupied, not even the computer.

Though, through my snooping, I found the counselor’s diary in her drawer but because I tried to be a good person when I could, I didn’t touch it. The diary would help me get an inside look into her life and what was going on in her head, but I had to respect her property.

With a groan, I got up and left the office. The florescent lights that pierced my eyes were both a blessing and a curse. It took about ten seconds for my eyes to adjust to the change of lighting. Breathing in the fresher air deeply, I nodded at the secretary, whom I was certain was asleep judging by how still she was. It was hard to tell because her eyes weren’t completely closed but her slow and deep breathing was a huge give away.

I doubted anyone was going to come and see me but if someone did, I was certain they’d just make an announcement over the PA system so it wasn’t a big deal to just leave without saying anything,

I aimlessly walked around the hallways, looking at the class pictures that decorated the walls around the main office, looking at the murals by the gym that the students had done a few years back, and peering into the classes as I walked by them.

It was nice.

“Hey there stranger,” someone called as I was peeking into another class. It looked like a drama class. “What are you doing lurking in the hallways?”  Her face was familiar but I just couldn’t place it. She must’ve noticed that I didn’t recognize her so she raised her hand in greeting and reintroduced herself. “Nala,” she said smiling, “remember?” Nope. But I wasn’t going to tell her that. “I teach biology!”

“Right!” I said snapping my fingers. I remembered her now. “Mrs. Nala! How are you?”

“Actually my first name is Nala,” she laughed. “Greene is my last name and it’s Ms. not Mrs.,” she corrected bringing up her left hand, which was ring-less.

“I’m so sorry,” I said feeling ashamed. “Mentally, I’m on vacation so I’m not bothering retaining any information, what-so-ever.”

“Okay,” Nala said in a tone that suggested she didn’t believe a word I just said.

Couldn’t blame her, she just wasn’t on my radar or anything. Was it really my fault that I couldn’t remember every single teacher I saw yesterday? The only people I tend to remember and care for were my patients and my loved one. Does that make me a bad guy?

“You didn’t answer my question?” Nala said looking at me with expecting eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Oh just watching these kids,” I answered looking back into the classroom.

“Try not to sound so creepy,” Nala laughed nudging me away from the door.  

I cringed because she was right, it did sound creepy. “Yikes,” I laughed. Nala just huffed in return. “Do you have a spare?” I asked as we slowly walked down the hallway. I assumed she did have a spare period because it didn’t look like she was in a rush to get anywhere.

“Yeah,” she sighed looking at her watch. “I drew the short stick and I have to monitor the hallways this period,” she explained. “You know, make sure I keep the halls safe from students running and all.”

I laughed. “Well thank you for your service to this school.”

“Want to tag along with me while I roam these halls?” she asked.

“Yes please,” I sighed in relief. “I’m so bored.” I was glad she asked me to tag along with her because I just didn’t know what to do with myself and I couldn’t follow her around. But her offering, made it okay.

At first, we walked around without saying a word to each other. The silence was nice.

 Nala was stopped a few times either by fellow teachers saying hi or by students asking questions about an upcoming test, none Nala actually answered.

“I used to hate when teachers and professors did that,” I said when we walked away from yet another student asking about the test.

“What?” Nala asked looking up at me. She genuinely looked confused.

“You know the whole answering your question with another question,” I scoffed.

“I do that?” she asked.

“Yes!” I answered.

“Why hasn’t anyone ever told me this?”

“Oh my God you’re doing it to me,” I said impassively.

“You’re in no position to talk,” Nala argued. “You’re a psychologist. Don’t you do it all the time?”

“Yeah but not for shits and giggles,” I said partly offended. “I actually give people answers.”

Apart from the sneer, Nala overall ignored my comment.

My stomach made a small growl as my mind drifted off to the lunch that I’d packed myself this morning. I’d made stir fry rice with eggs, shrimp, mushrooms, bean sprouts and tofu. It was one of my favourite things to make and my absolute favourite to eat. I hadn’t made it in a while so I was really excited to dig in once lunch time got around.

“A little hungry I see,” Nala laughed staring at me stomach. “Here,” she said pointing at a door and walking towards it. “This is my classroom, remember?” she said mockingly. “I have some snacks in there if you want one.”

“Sure,” I nodded following her with a bounce in my step. The promise of food always made me happy.

Nala allowed me to step in first after she’d opened the door and the first thing I noticed was all the beakers that were filled with water. Nala was talking and rummaging through her purse but I paid her no mind.

Growing up here, and back home in Syria, I was never good at biology, chemistry or physics. Did I know the biology of the human brain, yes? But learning the other things just never came easy to me. However, I always had an interest in them.

Following my curiousity, I walked to the closest station and picked up two beakers. They both had clear stuff in them  but one was labelled “A” and the other “W.” It was obvious that I didn’t know what “A” meant but I sure as hell knew what “W” meant.

Weaker.

I lifted both beakers up and poured the “weaker” liquid into liquid, “A.”

Nothing happened for about two seconds before the beaker suddenly got hot and then foam shot out. The hot foam hit my chin and neck before I could drop the beaker on the floor.

Everything happened so quickly. In a flash Nina was by my side guiding me towards a sink, pulling my shirt off and splashing water on my neck and chest. I barely registered her telling me to take off my necklace. My fingers worked on autopilot as I took it off, carefully closing the clasps so that the rings wouldn’t slip out.

“Why did you do that?” Nina scolded looking at me incredulously.

“I thought it was going to change colour or something,” I said in defense, a little embarrassed about what just happened.

“Oh my God, you’re an absolute idiot,” she said looking more pissed off by the minute. “How could a grown man do that?”

“Well,” I answered, “I know it couldn’t be anything too bad, Teenagers will be using it after all.”

Nala didn’t answer me; she just gave me a dirty look as she splashed more water onto my affected areas.

Nala left me to go clean up the broken glass while I continued washing myself and making sure I wasn’t reacting badly to the spill.  Nala was skeptical to leave me alone in the room but after much coaxing and assurance that I wouldn’t touch a single thing, she left me to go to the gym and get me a shirt.

I was patiently sitting at Nala’s desk when the door flew open. I turned around to watch Nala walk in but it wasn’t her. It was the guy Fin from yesterday. He stared at me with squinted eyes, his hand still on the door knob, one foot inside the room.

“Uh, what the hell?” he asked looking at my bare chest.

“Oh, I had an accident,” I vaguely explained pointing to the crime scene, which Nala had cleaned up so it looked like nothing actually happened. “I put the “weaker” liquid into liquid “A”. It reacted badly.”

“Right,” Fin said stretching the word out. He was wearing one of the school’s sweatshirts. It was a nice navy blue that complimented his dark skin. I hoped Nala was getting me the same sweatshirt.

“Where’s Nala?” Fin asked looking around the room like she was hiding somewhere.

“Gone to get me a shirt,” I answered. “Shouldn’t you not be calling your teachers by their first name?”

“Shouldn’t you not have sex in a classroom?” Fin retorted with disgust.

“What? God no!” I said shocked. “Who do you think I am?”

“I’m kidding dude,” Fin laughed. He finally walked into the room and sat down. “I need to ask Nala about the test so I’m going to wait here.”

What was up with this kid calling his teacher by her first name? It was completely inappropriate.

“So you put any thought it coming in for counselling?” I asked Fin as we both waited for Nala.

“No,” Fin simply added, “I have thought about it and the answer is no,” he repeated making it very clear that he didn’t want counselling not that he hadn’t thought about it.

I pursed my lips and slowly nodded. “You’re waiting for nothing,” I warned Fin. “She’s not going to give you an answer. She’s just going to answer your question with one of her own.”

Fin ignored me, deciding typing on his phone was a great deal better than talking to me.

It didn’t take long for Nala to come in and throw the shirt at me. The shirt was much paler than the one Fin wore and it didn’t smell fresh. Nala was still bitter I see.

“Hi,” Fin said getting up from his seat when Nala came in. “I was just wondering if chapter 7 was going to be on the test.”

“Did we study chapter 7?” Nala asked Fin.

I smirked at Fin and with just the look in my eyes I said, “I told you so.”

“Yes,” Fin answered Nala.

“Then what do you think?” Nala asked again.

“I guess I have to study it,” Fin sighed as he made his way to the door. “Oh and sir,” Fin called looking back, “Do what you oughta put acid,” he paused for dramatic effect, “into water,” and with that he left.

So that’s what “A” and “W” meant.

The bell had just rung for lunch so I thought it was a great time as any to go heat up my stir fry. I reached into my bag to grab my lunch when a small voice called my name.

I thought I was hearing things but then I heard my name being called again.

“Dr. Yaseen?” I looked up to see Veronica.

“Veronica!” I said genuinely happy to see her. She was one of my favourite patients. “Hi! Come in!”

Veronica stepped into the room but she didn’t sit down, she just nervously put her hands on top a chair and took a deep breath.

“I’m kind of having a rough day today and I know I’m not going to eat if I…” she took a shaky breath, “I just can’t.”

Veronica was 15; she started seeing me when she was 13 when the pressures of society and her parents were getting to her. She had Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder. It was in the name, she would avoid eating and her overall calorie count was very low. Veronica wasn’t anorexic (not anymore) or bulimic, she was still slightly underweight and that made her very happy but also very sad. She had episodes were she was fine some days and other days were really hard for her.

“Did you bring a lunch today?” I asked Veronica. She simply shook her head and stared at the floor. “Have you eaten today?” Veronica looked at me and shook her head again. “Are you hungry?” I asked in a soft voice. She nodded. “When was the last time you ate?” I asked afraid of the answer I was going to get.

“Yesterday morning,” Veronica sobbed.

“Hey, don’t cry,” I said getting up and walking around the desk to where she stood. I placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and she ran into my body for a hug. “Don’t cry,” I murmured. “It’s okay.”

“I really thought I was getting better,” she said brushing away her tears.

“Don’t worry too much,” I said rubbing her back. “It’s okay to have a setback. Doesn’t mean you’re failing or you’re weak. We just have to keep working on it.”

“I feel so bad coming to you,” Veronica laughed pulling away from the hug. “I know you’re on vacation and I wasn’t at school yesterday but when I found out you were here, I thought -.”

There was a knock that cut off what Veronica was going to say. We both looked to see Nala there watching us.

“You forgot this by the sink in the classroom,” she said holding up my necklace.

I was by her side in a millisecond to grab it. I quickly noticed that my parents’ rings were in different positions. Nala must’ve noticed my confusion because she confessed that she’d thought my mom’s ring was beautiful and she couldn’t help but try it on. I didn’t like the idea of her wearing it and it my face probably showed it because she apologized profusely.

 I wanted my future wife to be the only other woman to ever wear my mother’s ring. Not some stranger who knew nothing about me.

Nala left just as quickly and silently as she came, but I couldn’t worry about myself right now. I couldn’t stress about something someone else did without my acknowledgment or permission, I had to focus on Veronica.

“Veronica,” I said turning to her, pushing the ring situation to the back of my mind. “Would you like to join me for lunch? I’m starving.”

“I don’t know if I should,” she said shyly looking at the floor.

“I know you’re hungry and you have to eat okay,” I told her. “Your body really needs you to eat and not eating for over 24 hours is extremely dangerous, you understand that right?” When she nodded I continued. “I’ve been hearing great things about a nice little diner that recently just opened up about a 10 minute drive from here; want to go check it out?”

Veronica was quiet before she said, “I hear they’ve got great sandwiches.”

It was the most confirmation I was going to get from her so I ran with it. “Alright let’s go,” I said grabbing my car keys and ushering her out the door. “How long is lunch, an hour?” I asked as I locked the door.

“Yeah,” Veronica confirmed, “but I got a spare after lunch so I’m not in a rush.”

“Great,” I cheered rubbing my hands together, “we can have a buffet and eat a butt load of stuff. We gotta try everything in order to see if they’re really as good as people say they are. All on me of course.”

Veronica smiled and said, “thank you Dr. Yaseen.”

I fist bumped my chest twice and made a sideways peace sign. The universal sign for “I got you.”

Veronica cringed and said, “You’re too old to do that, Dr. Yaseen.”

“What!” I gasped. “I’m 30!”

“Exactly,” Veronica laughed as I left the secretary a note giving her my number and telling her to call me on the off chance that someone showed up.

 

I guess I would have to wait another day to eat my seafood stir fry.

End Notes:

Hi Ladies!! :)

I hope you're having a great day/evening/night! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please don't forget to leave a review/comment (if you'd like). Thank you so much for reading! it means alot

 

My thoughts and prayers are with the people of Aleppo. 

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