dripped like slime to the floors, coating them in hexagons.
I told Youssef about Sabah, and what she’d said. He wished me well, from the bottom of his heart, but worried about Ismail. I told him not to worry. I’d keep her safe. I’d make him see reason. I’d fight for it and I’d marry her.
“That’s not the way they do things,” he said, and he didn’t need to tell me who they were. “To them you’re an infidel. A traitor. A foreign double agent. It doesn’t matter how little sense it makes.”
“You talk about him like he’s beyond saving,” I shot back. “He’s our friend. He has been since we were children. You were right, he’s changed, but he’s been brainwashed.”
“He slapped her right across the face, in front of all of us,”
Youssef said quietly. “He didn’t care who saw. Can you tell me you felt he was worth saving then?”
I looked away and sought solace in more hash. I needed more, to stave off this attack of reason and rationality. I didn’t need logical. I needed dreamy and the hash obliged. We sank back in our cushions and watched the ceiling melt away.
A faint groaning came from within and we both leapt to our feet, having momentarily forgotten our unconscious Anne Frank five feet away.
**********************************************************
We learned more of Benjamin that night, much more. He’d scurried to his feet like a rabbit that senses the fox closing in, but we’d managed to calm him down. It was our English, I think, that finally reassured him. We fetched him his own pillow and passed him the shisha, hoping it would loosen him up. He adjusted the bandage around his nose, winced, and accepted the proffered hose. He smoked like a pro.