The Boy Who Made Flowers Sing

61 | I'm Tired of Saying Goodbye

Elena looked outside the window of her classroom as she felt the calm breeze blow on her light grey scarf. She traced her fingers across the gold cracks of the vase that sat on the teacher's wooden desk. Inside, she had put in white lilies which she had picked this morning from the meadow. It had become a morning ritual. A bright sun shone through the pane of the glass warming up Elena's tired face. She walked over to one of the students' desks and sat completely still, inhaling deeply and trying to take in every smell, sound, and feeling.

Though the experiences here had been horrifying, Elena had learned so much about compassion, sacrifice, and love. The children were like her own and Aziza had always complimented her motherly personality. 

Something bothered Elena though: why had fate brought her and Andreas together only to be separated again forever? He was actually gone. Unobtainable. It was like he was a dream. A dream that had turned into a nightmare. And a nightmare that never seemed to cease. Was it dangerous getting close to people? Was it better to keep your distance from everyone? Elena's heart had never hurt so much. Her pain made her want to rip her hair out sometimes.

Elena got up and went outside. The sun would be setting soon in the city of Gaziantep. She heard the boys loudly cheer as Adam scored a soccer goal. Fatima was braiding Zainab's hair on the bench while Mariam played on the playground. Ruheena was in the tire swing lost in her own imagination. Elena could almost see Amir in the flower beds precociously observing the pink roses and tulips. Elena painfully smiled. She heard Amal coo in her grandfather's arms as he played with her in the sandpit, the toddler's new obsession. Amal was the only thing that Rizwan had left of his daughter. How he must hurt inside though he always smiled, hiding away his emotional burden.

Elena tried to remember it all. She took her camera out of her bag and took a picture of everyone. The photo could never do justice to the immense bittersweet feeling that enveloped Elena. She had grown to like Turkey. It was stunning at all times of the day. The call to prayer was a reminder that there was hope and rhythm in this world amidst the chaos. She went to visit the masjids with the children. They were so stunningly beautiful. The tessellating shapes and patterns that adorned the walls held so much history and beauty. Elena had always loved the sense of unity in prayer. The way that everyone bowed their heads at the same time and faced the same direction. It was incredible to witness.

She remembered what Andreas had asked her ten years ago in Isla de Flos: "where do you see yourself in ten years?"

"I'm here, Andreas," Elena whispered out loud to herself. "But you're gone."

Elena's longing for Andreas was so drastic that she could actually see a figure in the distance that looked like him. She knew she was hallucinating as she often did when she wanted something or someone to be real so bad.

Suddenly, the kids began to shout and run towards two silhouettes climbing the hill. The sun behind them made them look like mysterious silhouettes. Elena squinted.

Who are they?  Elena thought.

There were deliveries of supplies on Thursdays. But today was a Sunday. She stood up on the front porch and watched them draw nearer. Both of them were tall, muscular men, but one of them had a limp. The children began to shout and laugh. Elena saw one of them turn towards her and stop dead in his tracks. He then hurriedly limped over to her. Elena got up from her chair and pulled the scarf around her head tighter. He was a walking silhouette. The sun directly behind him illuminated. Elena saw his arm was drawn close to his body. It was in a sling. Elena frowned as she watched the man approach.