The sound of war planes and foreign drones has become the background noise to her life.
Sometimes, she doesn’t need to turn on the TV in the living room nor the small, wooden radio she has in her kitchen when she’s doing chores; the hum of that white, six-legged alien in the sky is enough. And at night, when the day has come to an end, and it’s time for her to play a round of Soduko before resting her head on her under-fluffed pillow, the eerie swooshing sound of the wind, caused by the big, invisible monsters in the sky, keeps her company. This has become her new normal, a part of her everyday routine. She wakes up to one sound and goes to sleep to another, both compliments of the same perpetrator. And during the day, she is bombarded with the incessant sounds of the city – generators, motorcycles, bombs, men on motorcycles yelling, cars honking, bombs, the sound of cars drifting, the repetitive noise coming from the cistern supplier, bombs, people chatting around her, others laughing, bombs, the click-clacking of heels on the sidewalk, kids crying, bombs.
That is until one day, she didn’t wake up on time, but when she did eventually wake up, she couldn’t tell if she had turned off her alarm the first time or if it had not gone off completely. The silence in the sky didn’t help, that she knew. The hum of the drone would not accompany her today, not as she got ready for work, at least. She still had hope that it would show up later. Going through the motions of her morning routine, she made her coffee although she was running late, but decided to have it while getting dressed. She set it aside and went to the bathroom. Came out, put on black pants, a white shirt and threw on a jeans jacket. Put on some concealer, blush and mascara and then picked her mug back up and took a big gulp. She moved with it to the kitchen where she proceeded to remove her pre-prepared lunch and put it in her lunch box. And that’s when she saw it.
From the corner of her eye, she could see something on her little balcony. She lived in an old building; her apartment was meant to be a bigger, 3-bedroom, 3-bathroom apartment, but the owner sliced it into two smaller “studios” and rented them. But that meant, because it was an old building, it had a lot of big windows with small balconies. From her kitchen on the second floor, she could see the window next to her. On the balcony was something white with six legs. She dropped what she was doing and went over to inspect the situation.
It was, in fact, what she had suspected – a drone. Without setting foot onto her balcony, she tried to look as hard as she could, understanding the elements this foreign thing was made of. She took her phone from her pocket but then decided not to take pictures. What if they were watching her. She began dialing the local police station in her neighborhood. As soon as it rang once, she hung up. What if the police thought she was a traitor to her country? She stood there a moment, by the balcony, unsure what to do. On her phone, she glimpsed the time.
Hi Hanan, hope you are well. Just letting you know I will be taking some personal time this morning. Sorry for the short notice, it’s just that an emergency came up this morning and I need to deal with it. I will be coming in around lunch time.
She hit send, with that, telling the HR that she would be taking some time off, but not telling her why. How could she possibly explain a war drone on her balcony to anyone? She put her phone back in her pocket and opened the balcony door. Stepped outside. Bent and took a closer look. Nothing happened. She waved at it. Nothing happened. Then, she grabbed it.
She took it inside, placed it on her coffee table in the living room and ran her hand over it. How does this little thing manage to have all our information? Manage to cause so much fear from just the sound it emits? She felt a button somewhere so she flipped it over. It was black on the other side. She stared at it from all sides. And stared some more, when her phone began to ring. It was Ali, the friend she could trust with her life. They’ve been friends since university days and have recently found themselves working at the same office, him in tech and her in PR.
“Hanan told me you’re not coming in. Are you okay?” He answered her “Allo.”
“I don’t think I can discuss this over the phone. I told Hanan I’d be at the office by lunch.”
“But are you okay?”
“I mean, physically yes, but I don’t know what to do…” she was still staring at the same part, her eyes fixated on the button.
“About what?”
“I don’t want to discuss this on the phone. I’ll send you a message on Telegram.”
Neither of them had used Telegram in years, probably since the protests erupted in Beirut and they needed safe communication channels. But it was her safest option, she felt. She found the app on her phone, and sent Ali an image of what was on her coffee table. He called her back a few seconds after receiving it.
“Don’t say anything,” she said, quickly.
“What’s that thing doing there Mary?”
“I found it on my balcony.”
“And why is it now on your coffee table?”
“I got curious.”
“You got curious? You get curious about the taste of frogs, not this!”
“What do you think I should do?”
“Call the police.”
“I wanted to but -”
“But nothing. If you don’t, I will.”
“And say what? My friend Mary has a… She found a you-know-what on her balcony? And they will believe you?”
“You know more than anyone I wouldn’t trust any government entity with a $1 bill but this is…”
“Big, I know.”
“I’ll come over.”
“And work?”
“Early lunch break.”
“It’s nine in the morning you crazy fucktard.”
“Mary, what the actual fuck,” he laughed. And she laughed too. But she didn’t get an answer as to what she should do next. After she hung up, she just sat on her couch facing it, looking at it, and then she started talking to it.
“What are you doing here?” she began, “Me? Sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing here. Do you ever feel that way? Of course not. You have a purpose. Surveille, scare, repeat. But me? I do PR for celebrities I despise. I’m part of a corrupt, broken system and the only reason I’m a part of it is because I need the money, and the only reason I need the money is because I had to move out.” She stopped and shuffled in her seat. A few minutes passed by and then she continued. “You want to know why I had to move out? At least buy me dinner first!” A few more minutes then she continued, “At some point in the last ten years, my sister died. I know, I know. Sad. Horrible. She was only twelve, and I was still in university. My parents wanted to emigrate afterwards, but I didn’t. My dad decided he’d go first, and then mom and I would follow him after I finished studying. But directly after graduation, I got a great internship opportunity at a PR firm in Dubai and decided to go there instead. My mom stayed here. I came back only because my mom was begging me to, and when I did, I told her she should just follow dad and I should just stay here. Neither of them liked the idea. A whole year had passed with my dad in Canada and my mom here, with me. I was working my first job and since I was using dad’s old car and didn’t have to worry about extra expenses, I decided to move out. Make it easier for mom. She eventually went to Canada but we’re not on the best of terms.”
Silence. It was so loud she could hear her own breathing.
“Am I crazy, talking to you? Maybe. But it hasn’t been easy for me living on my own these past couple of years. I’m glad I have Ali, but there are so many things he just doesn’t understand, and I don’t have any girl friends. I mean, I have friends who are girls, but the friendship with them is… Shallow? The kind of friends you see for drinks and parties. Not the kind of friends you cry with when you’re having a shit day, or the kinds of friends you cruise around with when you’re broke but you don’t want to stay home – do you get me? Of course you don’t.” She held her face in her hands, and then lay down on the couch.
“I tried therapy, you know, but this feels better. Maybe because you’re not a human who will judge me. And I know what you’re going to say, therapists don’t judge their patients, but… I don’t know, I was just never really comfortable spilling my guts out to a complete stranger. But you? I feel like we can become buddies, don’t you?” She tilted her head up, as if hoping the drone would say yes.
Silence.
“I guess, Ali is that person – you know the one I cry with and go on cruises with and all that. A lot of people seem to think we’re in love, but I don’t think we are. I don’t know actually, for as long as I’ve known him, it’s always been, uhm, what’s the word? Platonic. He’s Shiite, and I’m Christian, I think that plays a role in sabotaging any chances we have. Well, not really, because I know Muslim men can marry Christian women, but yeah, I think I’ve disappointed my parents enough already.”
She clicked her phone open and started a game of Sudoku. Minutes went by in silence.
“Sometimes I think of her randomly, you know, my sister – Ginette. We used to always bicker about sharing stuff. Like she’d want to take my hair ties and when I wanted to take hers, she’d yell at me. I’d pull her hair as a joke and she’d shove me. I don’t even remember how she died. It just all happened so… Fast.” Her face wore a blank expression as she sat up, staring at the tiles on the floor. Thinking about Ginette always puts her in a mood. But when her phone rang, she snapped out of it.
“What happened with your friend?” asks Ali.
“Oh, we’re… Bonding. Are you coming?”
“I couldn’t leave right away but I’ll be there soon…”
She hung up and decided to make some breakfast, so she walked over to the kitchen, opened the fridge: eggs, white cheese, salami, milk, leftover rice and some stew, bread, condiments, two bottles of wine, both half finished. That’s all that’s in her fridge, so decides to fry two eggs. When they’re done she takes the pan and the pita bread and places them on the coffee table, near the drone.
“I wonder who flies you.” she says as she chews the first bite. When she’s managed to obliterate what was on her plate. She sits for a moment, staring at the empty plate, as if regretting having eaten.
“I wonder if they stop to regret their massacres. Do you?” she turns to look at the object, anticipating something.
“I’ve told you so much. You know a lot. Not everything, not how Ginette died. Now why my parents really left. Not my actual feelings about Ali. But I’ve told you so much and you haven’t said anything. Why won’t you say anything you stupid fucking piece of garbage?” She grabs it and throws it on the floor, hoping it’ll shatter so she can move on with her day. But it doesn’t. Like a cat, it lands on its legs and stands facing her.
“Gaahh!” She moves towards it, and picks it back up. Hugs it. “Sorry. Sorry. You were just listening to me. But I feel you know too much about me and I know nothing about you, and it’s not fair. Are you the one who kills us? And if so, why? Could this all be for our land? Do our lives really mean so little? How is the world so forgiving and how are so many people on your side? What about us? No one cares about us. I didn’t say this but my parents have been telling me to come to Canada everyday since the war started. And I’ve been telling them I’m fine, and I’m safe, and I’m here in the Christian areas, and I visit Teta, and a lot of other things. But what they don’t know is that sometimes I can’t sleep at night. Most nights actually. Because I’m afraid of what you’ll do to us, or that I wake up the next morning, safe and sound, but to the news of tens or hundreds who have been killed. This isn’t a life. Not anymore.”
There’s a knock at the door. She can hear it but her vision is blurry, and she can’t get her legs to move to the door. Her face is warm, and it gets warmer with the trickle of tears from her eyes. She blinks consecutively, trying to clear her vision, but more tears fall from her eyes, and when she wipes them, she realizes she’s crying. She looks at her hands and allows herself to weep. She lets out a big cry, and falls to the ground.
When she opens her eyes, she sees a white light on a white ceiling. This isn’t her house. She doesn’t have lights that look like this. She looks around and sees steel poles and machines. She realizes where she is, but before she can speak, she hears voices.
“She’s coming to.”
“It’s a good thing you brought her in when you did…”
Frowning, Mary asks why she’s in the hospital, in this ward specifically, which she recognized from the distinct smell. But she doesn’t receive an answer. A nurse stands next to her and asks, “Do you remember anything from what happened, Mary?”
“What do you mean? Where’s the drone?”
“Mary, the doctor will explain more when she visits your room to check your progress, for now I need you to remain calm and listen to what I will say, can you do that?” Mary is already fidgeting in bed. From the corner of her eye, she spots Ali, standing alone in a corner of the room. She calls to him but he looks away. The nurse holds Mary’s head and turns it towards her.
“No, no. Don’t talk to him, listen to me. You had another psychotic break, but you’re fine now. You’re safe. You’re here. We have called your next of kin, and they are waiting outside. Your friend Ali insisted on staying here because he found you in your apartment.”
“But I -”
“Don’t strain yourself. We don’t have to talk about it now. Once you’re rested, you will be subject to a full psychiatric evaluation, and you’ll talk about all the details of what happened then.” She looks at Mary, then at Ali. “I’ll give you to a few minutes, then, sir, I will have to ask you to leave.”
Ali walks over to the bed and holds her hand.
“I’m so sorry, I tried to be there as soon as you called. I’m so sorry I couldn’t come earlier.”
“What are you talking about? What happened to the -”
“You were delusional Mary. There was nothing on the balcony, nor in your apartment. When I got there with the ambulance and the police, you’d been passed out on the floor in a…” his eyes drifted to her thigh. “I can’t imagine what you must have been going through. But I found recordings on your phone, and have submitted everything to evidence. To prove you’re unwell, not crazy. I’m so sorry Mary.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Last time this happened, I started to gather all the information in one place. I knew it would happen again. So, please, when you’re fully awake and ready, I’ve left you some news clippings so you can remember what happened to you. To your parents. So you can visit their… Visit them if you want. Your aunt is outside, but I just wanted some time to talk to you before anyone else said more. They think this time you should be admitted to the ward.”
“I don’t want to stay here.”
“I know, but it’s for the best.”
“So there was no…?”
“No, there was no drone.”
With that, Mary turns her face away from Ali’s, realizing that everything she had lived this morning was a delusion. When Ali exists the room, she moves her hand over her thighs until she feels the bandaids on the left one and starts to feel tears pool in the corner of her eyes. Just like that, her trauma falls on her all at once and images of debris cloud her vision – the family house in ruins, her bloody, grey hands as she dug in the rubble, looking for her parents, her favorite books in pieces and covered in blood.
She remembers now, and she wished she could cease to exist.
