Coming Home (English Version)

12. Free

London, 2008.

Hamdan pushed the kitchen exit door that led to the alley and stepped outside into the night. Breathing heaving, he looked around trying to find her.

"Finally!" Said Layla.

He recognized where her voice was coming from but it was too dark to see.

"What took you so long?" She asked while stepping out of the shadows and into the light of a street lamp, wearing denim shorts, black and white striped t-shirt and a across the body bag.

"Security." Replied Hamdan. "I had to wait until they were gone and then I had to take the stairs." He took a deep breath. "Are the clothes okay?" He asked while pointing at himself.

Layla looked at him from head to toe with a smirk on her face, he was wearing jeans and a dark blue shirt.

"You look good, I guess this is as casual as a prince can get." She joked.

He gave her an unamused look. "Stop calling me that."

Layla chuckled. "That's what you are now." She took his hand and pulled. "Let's go!"

On the busy street, they got into the first cab they could get and after the twenty minutes ride, they found themselves in the heart of a bohemian neighbourhood with sidewalks filled with young people smoking and laughing. Layla took Hamdan's hand one more time to guide him as he absorbed an atmosphere he had not been in before. She looked back as they walked and saw him admiring the mural painted on the building wall across the street.

"You need to see something else besides fancy hotels!" She called.

They walked another block and the street became quieter, taking a sudden right turn, Hamdan slowed down his pace and pulled her to do the same as soon as he saw the deserted alley.

"Where are we going?" He asked.

"Come on!" She urged. "We're almost there."

Layla turned the handle on an unmarked black door that led down to a darkened staircase. The noise intensified as they got closer and closer to the basement-like pub. An indie rock band was on the stage and Hamdan held Layla's hand harder as she made her way through the crowd. She stopped once they were close enough to the band.

Layla stood on the tip of her toes to speak to Hamdan's ear. "The drummer is my friend!"

Hamdan glanced over to the guy who had a sleeveless t-shirt on, both arms covered with tattoos and a shaved head. He could not understand what the point was, to be there with no space to move or sit, music too loud to speak and the heat was starting to form sweat drops on his hairline. But then, he saw Layla and she had never seemed happier and brighter; jumping up and down, singing and shaking her head from side to side. She looked at him and turned her body in his direction, inviting him to do the same she was doing.

Hamdan shook his head. "No! I can't!" He yelled.

"Why not?" She called back.

He didn't have an answer, it simply wasn't in him.

Layla put both hands on his shoulders and stared at him.

"Look!" She instructed and lifted both arms up on the air to let out a scream that lasted for a good five seconds.

Her joy and thrill bursted out of her in the form of laughter and she wrapped her arms around Hamdan's neck.

"You can do anything here." She said to his ear. "You can be anyone, nobody cares! You can be free, Hamdan!"