Emeralds

Thirty-seven.

Thirty-seven
[Leen]

How am I supposed to describe the day when I can't even know if it's morning or night?

They're just hours passing by.

Pain is shredding my body apart, and I can almost hear the thuds in my head. Darkness has changed from a description into a reality, a matter I can almost touch, something I am breathing and I'm living in. I'm too lost and I have no idea how I'll carry on living.

Mom feeds me some warm soup that I don't even know what it consists of until I had to deeply focus; I still can't get over the fact that I can't see, I still can't decipher it.

I hear the door being open then shut and someone walks towards me.
"It's me Salam, Leen," she says taking a seat next to me. "Are you feeling better today?" Focusing on her sound again-as it's the only thing filling my universe right now-I can know she's been crying.

I'm really tired of crying and having everyone crying around me. Mom, Salam, Jenin, even Adam and Abed, it just makes me feel worse, it just makes me cry more.
"Alhamdulillah," I reply plainly.
"I've brought you some chocolates!" she tries to sound joyful. Tries. "You must be bored of all the soups and hospital food," she says placing a chocolate bar in my palm and wrapping my fingers around it. I sense the paper in my hand and a faint smile cracks my lips.
"Thank you."

I haven't heard Adam's voice in a while, I wonder if he's still here. People have been coming and leaving constantly and I don't know who's opening and closing the door anymore. I want to know if Adam's here but I'm too embarrassed to ask.

I'm blind and I don't know if my husband is here, can you please tell me?

I'm tired of pitying myself, I don't want others to pity me as well.
"When will I be going home?" I ask no one in particular.
"The doctor said you can be discharged next week." That's Adam's voice! I can't help turning my head to where the sound seemed to come from.

I hear footsteps approaching my bed and someone sits down, "Do you want anything?" His voice. That hope I've been clinging to. That voice I keep waiting to hear all the time. That face I miss so much...
"I want to go home," I say barely holding my tears in. "I'm not comfortable here, I don't know what's happening; I don't know who's here and who leaves," I start crying. Mom sniffles next to me and I sigh. "Please stop crying!" I snap although I don't mean to.
"It makes me feel worse," I explain, "it tires me more."
"I'm sorry," mom says with a muffled voice like she's covering her mouth. Then I hear her footsteps leaving the room. Adam takes her place next to me saying, "I'm here, okay?"
"Okay," I say. "W-Who's also here?" I ask, turning red from embarrassment.
"There's also Salam, Mariam, Abed and Jenin," he says. "The others come and go, and those who are here right now."

I don't want to even think about how I'm making them sit awkwardly right now, sniffling cries and swallowing tears and watching some pitiful scene of a girl who's trying to see the world with her husband's eyes.

I remember once Adam and I were having a late night talk on the balcony; it was a harsh winter night and we were wrapped in jackets and blankets and yet refused to go inside.
"Cold weather amazes me," I said.
"Why?"
"I get that feeling when I'm too cold that coldness has filled me, stuffed me, and there's no place for anything else, but somehow I still feel so empty and lonely."
He looked at me with bewilderment, "that's... strange-"
"Weird," I correct him and we laughed at my silliness.
"Maybe you should be a writer," he said a little more seriously then.
"A writer?" I asked in amusement. "Why?"
"Ummm," he wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders and breathed deeply, "you always look at things differently."
"How?"
"The way you describe normal things in a different way, it's like you see them differently from the way we do. You always have so much to tell, and talking to you never gets boring no matter how I get used to it. I enjoy listening to you talking about small things and tiny details, it makes me feel as if I'm seeing the world with your eyes, from your perspective. You make me look at it from a new dimension."
My mouth falls in an awe, "And you say I should be a writer?" I laugh, "Listen to how you just put that!"