Strings - Capstone Amal Al Shamsi (1)

Pajero friend’s sister, she had always had her eye on Sultan but when that seemed improbable,
she had let it slip that she was keen on Hamza, too. But he met Lamya, waiting in line at the
store, he was picking up flowers. He never asked her what she was getting. Their encounter, of
course, had not seemed significant then, even if he made it out to be so when he recounted it
years later. He just knew it was meant to be when he ran into her again at the lobby of a hotel, he
had been on a work dinner with clients and she was speaking at a conference. Any thought of
keeping his job left his mind, he asked to meet her as soon as it was possible. His mother almost
bounded up out of the bed when she heard. She lived for a while after that, even sat with Haya in
the car on the way to elementary school.
The ride to the airport was a long one and Hamza was secretly relieved when his
jetlagged daughter fell asleep. He wished she would continue sleeping until they boarded the
plane, maybe they could just go somewhere else together.
The flight to Washington was brief, but it felt longer because Haya refused to speak to
him from her seat four rows in front of him. She was upset that he had lied about the tickets and
that they had just nearly snatched the last pair for the day. Hamza shut his eyes, ready to turn in.
Inside the building, behind a grand metal desk three officers attended to his demands.
One of them, the one with tight skin around his face that seemed close to cracking as he yawned,
was looking through a file. The one next to him spoke into a walkie talkie, laughing a little before
looking up at Hamza. “Yeah, you can go through.”
Hamza took Haya’s hand, standing up.
“Hold on, we gotta authorize you, pal,”
They led him and Haya to an open space in which the tiles on the floor seemed at war
with one another, too far apart, revealing cracks or piling on top of one another. The space was
concave and holes in the ceiling let little light in from overhead. It was about to be evening and
Hamza saw no other light source. There was a lingering heat and the air was dry. They did not
step further ahead of the officers.
One of them motioned for him to go ahead.
“What are we doing?” Hamza asked.
“Room on the right,” the officer said, in lieu of an answer.
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