The Boy from Aleppo Who Painted the War (3 page)

‘Of course not, real art still exists, some people just want to create new art so they forget about the origins and truth of it.'

‘Very clever of you, I would have never thought that. Why don't you show me some of your paintings?'

‘I only show mama and Yasmine.'

‘Why don't you try showing me? I'll be honest.'

I don't know whether I should show him or not. What if he laughs? I only trust mama and Yasmine. He said he'd give me an honest opinion so maybe I should.

‘Don't tell anyone I showed you okay?'

I lead him into my room. He doesn't jump over the threshold so I'm not sure if I feel comfortable with him being here.

‘Wow Adam, there are paintings everywhere, that's amazing!'

‘Do you like them?'

‘Amazing, I never knew you were this good, I always just saw you go into your room and come out hours later, but I didn't think you did such good paintings.'

‘Thank you Mr. Isa.'

‘Why do you always paint war?'

‘Because it's filled with endless painting possibilities, and the range of colours is so wide.'

‘Why don't you try making sculptures?'

‘I like using colours.'

‘But you're good with faces.'

‘Thank you Isa…'

Before I am able to finish my sentence I hear a loud shriek, gun shots and an ambulance siren. I freeze in my place. Yasmine is all I can think about.

‘Yasmine… Yasmine… Yasmine!'

‘Calm down Adam, let's go out and see what's going on. Don't worry it won't be Yasmine.'

‘I can't go out, I can't.'

I run to the door and open it clumsily, the lock isn't unlocking. Isa pushes me aside gently and unlocks it. I stretch my neck out of the door to see if I can see what happened. All I can see from here is a group of people with banners marching on, and an ambulance in the far distance. The fear of something happening to my sister burns inside me. My fingers start to tremble and twitch. I back away from the door and sit in the corner of the corridor towards the wall. I grind my teeth trying to ignore all the dark thoughts that start clouding my mind. I can't see the wall in front of me any more; I can only see grey triangles covering my vision. My body starts rocking involuntarily. I try to stop it, but it rocks more violently as I count in my head.

I
SA PULLS OUT
another cigarette. He has been smoking every ten minutes for all the hours that have passed. It doesn't smell nice. I guess it's his way of worrying about Yasmine, Khalid and Tariq. The smell is giving me a headache. I push my head onto my knees to block the smell from reaching me. Mama always said it is like burning yourself and I should never smoke. Why would I want to burn myself? Mama was always right. Isa should have listened to her more often. When mama was alive, Isa hardly spoke to her. She used to always be upset because of how he treated her. I love mama. I didn't like Isa making her sad.

My heart feels like a nest of crows hatching. It's so heavy and dark. Baba is still asleep in mama's room. I want to wake him up and tell him to go and look for Yasmine, but I don't want him to shout at me. He is very tired. It suddenly becomes silent outside. I can't hear a single person. Isa rushes to the door and opens it. His cigarette is on the ground, still lit. I run behind him and put it out. Our street looks abandoned. Ripped banners lie on the ground tracing the protesters' march and stones fill the road with dust. I can't wait for Yasmine to come home. Isa shuts the door. I head back to my corner.

‘Do you want me to make you something to eat?' Isa asks. I am really hungry but I don't think Isa knows how to set my plate.

‘It's okay, I'll do it myself thank you.'

I take seven steps to the kitchen and take out my plate from the fridge. Yasmine has already put some mashed potato and gravy on it. I put it in the microwave and pour myself a drink. I miss Yasmine already.

‘We are home!' I can hear Yasmine shout. I start to run to her but knock my drink over and it spills on the floor. The glass crashes; I feel it pierce my eardrum. I hear blue and purple screeches in my mind. I don't know what to do. I kneel down on the floor and rock myself so the sound disappears. I don't know if I should run to Yasmine.

‘Are you okay dear?' Yasmine comes into the kitchen; I look up at her and smile.

‘Are you okay Yasmine? What happened?'

‘We just went marching darling. Get up, I'll clean the glass.'

‘I heard a gunshot.'

‘Someone got hurt, but we are all fine, I promise.'

‘I was scared.'

‘Sorry we left all of a sudden, but you have to try to get used to it. It's only just started…'

‘But I don't want to, you'll get hurt.'

‘Adam Habibi I'll be all right, I promise. Do you want me to pour you another glass of juice?'

‘Yes please.'

Yasmine clears the broken glass from the floor and I help her clean up the juice. She looks different. Something has changed. It looks like she's bruised from the inside, purple. It feels wrong. Yasmine puts my plate of food on the dining table with my juice. She adjusts her upper body in an uncomfortable manner like something is irritating her posture. It looks like Yasmine is hiding something beneath her clothes, something that points out. It's wedged into her waist.

‘Yasmine, what's that?' I ask pointing at her waist.

‘Nothing, chop chop and eat while I go change.'

I am confused. I see something pointing out and she fixes herself, so how is it nothing? Why did she say it was nothing? She knows lying confuses me and I don't understand it. My brain feels like a wire track with burning fuses. I can't see straight. People are enigmas. Now, even Yasmine is one of them.

She starts to walk away. I have a bad hunch. I stop eating and just move my food around the plate. The meal doesn't speak to me today. The mashed potato looks grey. It is in an odd mood like me. It's in the corner away from the gravy. Yasmine comes back into the kitchen wearing her pyjamas. I know how she dresses in different clothes depending on her mood; today she is dressed in her navy-blue silk pyjamas. She usually only brings them out on occasions, like when cousins come over to sleep. Something seems amiss and my heart feels tight and heavy thinking about it. I feel like hot black smoke is being pumped out of my heart. I feel like I am sitting on top of a falling chair. Navy-blue smoke colours my sight. I close my eyes.

‘Why aren't you eating Adam?' I open my eyes to Yasmine standing close to me.

‘I am not hungry any more.'

I pick up my plate, cover it in plastic film and put it back in the fridge. I sneak a look at Yasmine through the corner of my eye. She is not paying attention to what I am doing. Something is wrong; she usually pressures me to eat. I can't read her face. I want to know what happened outside. The boys have gone to sleep so I can't ask them. I don't know how to approach them anyway. I can only speak to Yasmine and Baba, and sometimes Isa.

‘Let's sleep Adam, I'm tired.'

Yasmine gets up and smiles at me. She leaves to go to her room. I take three steps outside the kitchen and five to my room and jump over the carpet onto my bed. I get under the covers but I can't sleep. What if Yasmine leaves in the morning again? I take my cover and take eight steps to her room. I knock on the door but she doesn't reply. I lay my cover outside her room and roll into it like a caterpillar. I imagine waking up and being able to fly outside to see what is going on. I can't wait for school so I can walk down the streets and see if it looks any different. The streets look eerie at this time, but I still don't see a war. Nobody is dressed in army clothes and no tanks patrol the streets, but there was a gunshot.

*

The sun is starting to rise and I wake up to the light right away. I look outside the window and don't see anybody. It's a school day, there's usually more life. I pick up my book on the bedside table and start to read, waiting for everyone to wake up. Today I am reading
Animal Farm
by George Orwell. I only have three chapters left. When I first started reading I couldn't understand why the animals were talking. I read the first
chapter 17
times. So I understood after that. George Orwell has special powers of speaking to animals, like Prophet Suleiman who spoke to ants and birds. Now that I understand the idea, the story is still weird, but I can only guess what this man means. I sometimes have to read things over and over again before I can understand them, especially jokes or sarcasm. How do I know if someone is joking or being sarcastic? I think the author should give a warning in the footnotes. That would make everything clearer.

I can't believe Yasmine is still asleep; she is usually the first to wake up. ‘Yasmine… Yasmine… Yasmine.' I knock on her door three times. Mama said three is a blessed number. Yasmine still doesn't reply. I push the door a little and it opens. She usually locks it every night before she goes to sleep but this time she didn't. I stick my head in-between the gap and see Yasmine lying on the bed, on top of the covers. She looks grey, like the way mama looked when she was sick. She looks so much like mama. It makes my heart drop heavily like a rock, something surges through it and I hold my breath. Is this what an electric shock feels like? I walk slowly towards Yasmine and knock on her bedside table.

‘Yasmine… Yasmine… Yasmine.'

She doesn't answer. I see the purple in her that I saw the other day after she came back so upset. She is bruised inside but I don't know how. What has upset Yasmine so much? I gently tap her legs to wake her up. She opens her eyes a little. They are red and she quickly rolls to her side and vomits violently on the floor. My eyes start spinning around the room; I notice boxes of pills on the floor. This can't be good. Mama had boxes of pills all around her room when she was sick. No, no, Yasmine can't be sick too. I don't know what to do. Yasmine stops vomiting and lies there, her head hanging over the bed. I run out of the room and knock on Baba's door.

‘Baba… Baba… Baba!'

Baba comes out still wearing his pyjamas.

‘Baba… ummmm…' I try to tell Baba to go and see Yasmine, but nothing comes out. My mind is filled with letters but I can't put them together to form a word. I hold my head and can faintly hear Baba talking to me.

‘What's wrong Adam, are you okay Habibi?' I shake my head and point to Yasmine's room.

‘Yasmine? What does she need?'

I walk towards her room and he follows me. He runs in and sees Yasmine still lying in the same position. His voice starts to fade out and the boys come running to the room. Suddenly everyone looks grey, not only Yasmine. I am really scared. I don't want Yasmine to go to mama. I need her. I don't want to miss her as well. Khalid runs out and slams the front door. Baba and Tariq come out of the room carrying Yasmine. She looks like snow, just like mama. No, no, no, no. The words now swim around in my mind and I start to feel dizzy, everything is spinning so fast and the room is running, taking me with it on a marathon. The walls try to speak to me, I can faintly hear their chanting but it doesn't make sense. The light is a line of rainbow across the sitting room. I can see Isa running to me in slow motion and his voice is like a robot. I feel like vomiting. The walls are crumbling down as I fall to the floor.

I
WAKE UP
to white walls surrounding me. I don't know where I am or how I ended up here. A curtain separates me from the noise. I suddenly remember Yasmine and what happened to her. I don't know how long I have been here or why I am here instead of Yasmine. I can hear Baba's voice from afar and I feel safe again.

‘Baba… Baba… Baba…'

Baba opens the curtain and smiles at me. His face looks like it is melting.

‘Where is Yasmine?' I ask right away. Scenes from Yasmine's room replay in my mind in slow motion. I can't piece them together well. They are fragments of her in pain and suddenly silence enveloping me.

‘She's in a room resting Habibi, she had a rough night.'

‘How long have I been sleeping for?'

‘All day, it is nine in the evening now.'

My eyes start twitching and my fingers tug at the elastic band on my wrist. I start tugging more and my wrist starts to get red. I keep shaking my head and whispering under my breath to stop myself from tugging but my body isn't listening to my brain.

‘Adam stop that! Don't hurt yourself,' Baba says.

Baba comes towards me and taps me on my shoulder; he knows I don't like anybody touching me so he doesn't do it for long. I don't move away because I know it is his way of making himself feel better.

‘Can we go to Yasmine please?' I ask Baba. He helps me out of bed and leads me to her room. We walk 17 steps straight then turn five to Yasmine's room. Baba doesn't knock before opening the door, which makes me uncomfortable. I knock three times on the wall as we enter. Suddenly I see mama on the bed, her eyes closed and rested. My heart starts beating fast and I whisper mama's name three times in a row quickly. Baba notices and comes towards me.

‘Adam, Adam,' he raises his voice and holds my shoulder. I push him away and go to the corner of the room. Why would he bring me to mama? She is in heaven. What is happening? Am I in heaven? I know I am not going crazy because I know the shape of mama's eyes perfectly. I used to stare at her when she slept so I could memorise their shape. They look like round olives filled with black eyelashes that curl at the end. I even remember the way they feel. I can't hear what Baba is saying any more as I walk towards the bed to touch mama's eyelashes. My fingers start twitching like an insect's legs. I am scared to touch her and scare her. I can't keep my fingers straight. My nails are digging into my palm as my fidgeting becomes more violent. I close my eyes and imagine the colour ruby-red to calm myself down. I steady my breathing and think of Yasmine when she looks ruby. My heart suddenly calms down and my fingers straighten. Baba is still behind me when I open my eyes and look back. He is still walking towards me as I have the courage to lean down and touch mama's eyelashes.