The Girl in The Green Scarf

F i f t y - S e v e n | Sebastian

C H A P T E R

57

- S e b a s t i a n -

"The heart is the soil of Allah, Laa ilaha illallah is the seed."
—Anonymous.

Note to self—don't ever get shot again.

Being punctured like a swiss cheese sucks bad time.

Especially when you're trying to take a proper bath without getting on your feet, or wetting the bandages that cover a third of your body.

The running water fills my ears and steam rises up in the small bathroom.

They said to take a shower, a Ghusl, Yahiya called it, something symbolic to wash away my previous life and start anew.

As a Muslim, as a believer, as a worshiper of Allah.

Just the mere thought fills me up with uncontrollable joy.

With a delirious smile on my face, I start untying the hospital gown, and slip it off, the bandages covering my shoulder and abdomen ripple into view. I toss the gown onto a chair in the corner of the bathroom.

As the air hits my body, a cough rises in my throat and I grab my chest to reduce the pain I know will follow.

After the first round of coughs passes, I set my feet onto the cold floor tiles and grip the grab bar bolted to the wall for support.

I ease myself off the wheelchair and onto the bench inside the small shower stall. The warm spray hits my legs and I lean away so my bandages don't get wet.

My head sways a little from the movement and I tighten my fingers around the bar to prevent myself from falling.

I had a fever yesterday when Hamsa and Theo dragged me back to the hospital, but I kicked it off overnight, thank God. It's the excitement, the nurses said.

I guess my heavy head is because I haven't eaten anything since yesterday morning. I just couldn't get anything down past my frantically beating heart after Hamsa agreed to be with me.

I unhook the low shower head, which is attached to a hose and ease it around to rain on my thighs and arms, then I tip my head back and wet my hair.

The rest of the shower is slow and painful, but I manage it. Almost.

At one point Alex knocks on the door, "Hey mate, you okay in there?" he asks.

"Ye--es," I stammer.

I won't admit I regret not taking the nurse on his offer of bringing a basin and a cloth to freshen me up while I was in bed. I'd rather reserve what's left of my tattered dignity.

"I got you a suit," he says.

"You did?" I ask, both excited and surprised that this occurred to him.

I hear the smile in his voice. "You thought I'd let my man get married in a stupid hospital johnny?"

"How thoughtful of you Alex," I say, rolling my eyes but I'm actually touched.

Married... the word rings in my ears and I feel dizzy again.

I never imagined I'd experience love, let alone get married before I turned thirty.

But here I am, hours away from getting the girl I fell in love with bit by bit, until I finally drowned.

Hamsa will be mine, and I'll feel the touch of her hands, the curve of her face and the smell of her hair for the first time. I'll be able to look at her without chastening myself.