Anissa's Redemption, Page 2

  When Anissa tells Maya what happened with Michael, her more experienced friend tells her that Michael’s relationship with his last girlfriend might not be as finished as Anissa would like to think. They also discuss the whole question of giving one’s virginity to the right person. Anissa notes how freely and frivolously women in the USA seem to do so, particularly when drunken fraternity parties are involved. But Maya points out that some U.S. women have auctioned off their virginity for six-figure payments.

  The next time Anissa speaks with Michael (over Skype, when he calls to let her know that he’s safely arrived in Syria), she confronts him about whether he still has any relationship with his ex-girlfriend. Michael responds by suggesting that he and Anissa keep their relationship light and open because he is too focused on the cause they both care so much about for him to be involved in anything very serious. He encourages her to cultivate her relationship with Julien, adding that the cause is much more important than any particular jealousies, and gaining Julien’s support is too important an opportunity for them to miss. But Michael emphasizes that he wants Anissa in his future and trusts her to stay true to that hope; it’s clear that Michael is torn about having Anissa charm Julien into being more supportive. Michael resents Julien’s materialistic values and views him as a romantic rival, even though the MCA desperately needs a wealthy supporter.

  A few days later, Julien takes Anissa on their dinner date. They have a long and very open chat during their time together, covering everything from Anissa’s experiences in college, to the plight of her community, to the current geopolitics of the Middle East. He is more impressed than ever by her intellect and knowledge of topics about which he knows little. They also discuss how different her traditional and more conservative background is from the sexual mores of American culture, at which point she jokingly mentions that she would have premarital sex with someone who wasn’t going to become her husband only for a donation of ten million dollars to the MCA, the cause she holds dearest. Julien humorously congratulates Anissa on not undervaluing herself and – noting that Michael may still be in the picture – muses that the whole idea, albeit theoretical, seems to him like a philanthropic version of the Demi Moore film Indecent Proposal.

  Anissa’s older sister (who is still staying with their uncle in Raqqa, Syria) shares some ominous news: they fear that a Christian who owes their uncle money may accuse them of blasphemy to the ISIS authorities, as a way to avoid his debt. She reports hearing that the man had befriended the Islamist authorities to avoid other debts in this manner, even though the other Christian creditors he accused of blasphemy all ended up dead. Anissa begs her sister not to lose hope, noting that Michael is well connected with key players in Syria and may be able to help them flee very soon.

  A few days later, the mysterious consequences that Julien’s harassing ex-lover has been threatening are finally unveiled. She sold the shirtless selfies that Julien had sent her when they were dating (a few months earlier) to the New York tabloids, and Anissa’s professor is now the object of ridicule throughout all of the New York area, as his selfies are splashed across the front pages of the local papers. A man who was always associated with good judgment, prudence, class, and prestige now looks laughably undignified and even desperate. Later that day, when Anissa overhears some students mocking him just as Julien’s lecture ends, she tries to defend him, reminding them that everyone makes mistakes and that they shouldn’t judge so harshly a professor that everyone had loved and admired so much up until that point.

  Full of shame, Julien slips away after class, clearly trying to avoid everyone as he makes his way back to his driver. But Anissa wants to comfort him and follows him until no one else is around to see her approach him. She tries to reassure him that the scandal hasn’t altered her view of him in any way. He wants to escape public view as soon as possible, and suggests that they speak in his car.

  Anissa decides to join him for his ride to the Brooklyn Bridge, which she’s always wanted to visit. On the way there, they discuss the dinner they had together, and Julien eventually admits that he is struggling to keep their relationship strictly teacher/student, particularly because of her charm and exceptional intellect, and the unusual openness that her presence inspires in him. He confesses to her that he shares more with her than with many people he’s known for far longer.

  On the other hand, his recent scandal is a painful reminder of how risky his adventures with women can be, although he notes that he strangely trusts her more than he can fully explain – in part because of her authenticity and refugee experience, which is so unlike the social-climbing, money-grubbers of whom he’s grown weary and wary. He also doesn’t want to break her heart but fears that such an outcome is inevitable, given his lousy track record with women and relationships generally. He concludes that the only way to have a sexual relationship where no one gets hurt is to keep their relationship strictly “transactional,” as she had jokingly mentioned when she said that it would take a ten-million-dollar donation for her to give her virginity to someone other than her future husband. Julien points out that, under such an arrangement, each person gains nothing more or less than what each expects: he would enjoy the taboo-filled thrill of sex with his current and much younger, virginal student, and she would secure a large donation for the MCA. Julien also notes that if it were really set up as a transaction, he would donate five million dollars before they have sex, and five million after.

  But Julien adds that he has never had to pay for sex and refuses, on principle, to start now. He concludes the discussion by asking Anissa never to mention any formal arrangement again. Julien says that if he does decide to donate to the MCA, then it’s not to pressure her into having sex with him, but because he genuinely wants to support her cause, which he has come to respect and care about. And similarly, if Anissa ever decides to lose her virginity to him, then it should be because she deems him worthy enough to receive that honor, and not because of some obligation.

  When they get to the Brooklyn Bridge, they get out of the car and walk towards the middle, as his driver waits for Julien’s call to pick them up nearby. On the bridge, Julien reveals the suicidal thoughts that he’s had on those occasions when he’s hit bottom, and describes the struggles he had with himself to stay on the bridge. He admits that the public humiliation following the photo scandal has brought him back to his nihilistic despair.

  Julien walks Anissa back to the car and instructs his driver to take her back to her dorm at the Columbia University campus. He decides to return to the bridge, so that he can just think and be alone and contemplate his own life, the way he has on every other such despair-filled occasion.

  A few days later, Julien never shows up to class. His social media accounts are all quiet and there is no way to reach him or any sign that he is alive. After nearly a week of this eerie silence, Anissa begins to worry that Julien has taken his own life.

  She grows even more distraught when Michael, who’s still in Syria, misses their scheduled Skype call – after not communicating for several days either. She starts to fear that she has lost both men in her life. Hours after she was scheduled to speak with Michael on Skype, she receives an email indicating that both he and Julien are actually alive. The email is from Michael, and it congratulates her on a job well done: the MCA bank account just received a wire transfer of five million dollars. That is where book one ends.

  NOTE: Due to space limitations, the above summary is highly condensed and not always in chronological order. For the full experience, with all of the drama and details, please read The Syrian Virgin.

  Chapter 1: Anissa

  (Diary)

  Friday, April 11, 2014

  To My Dearest,

  Last Tuesday brought a powerful reminder of why I should never lose hope in life, no matter how bleak things seem to get sometimes. The danger of prolonged despair is its tendency to cloud the gift of a new beginning that every tomorrow offers.

  With all of the mounting
anxiety and bad news of last week, I had almost forgotten this truth. And then, last Tuesday, my worries and depression were suddenly flipped on their heads, leaving me full of promise and joy. I learned that Professor Morales and Michael are both alive, and that my efforts to help my family and other persecuted Christians in Syria have borne fruit in ways that exceeded my wildest optimism.

  After seeing all of the good news in Michael’s email, I eventually calmed down enough to get to Professor Morales’ class, although he embarrassed me a bit for showing up about an hour late.

  “Anissa – so nice of you to join us!” he said, as he noticed me trying to enter the room as inconspicuously as possible. “Did you personally decide to end daylight savings time about six months early?” he asked jokingly, to the class’ amusement. I was glad to see that he was back to his usual self and that the class was apparently responding well to him. The moment flustered me a bit, but I was strangely relieved by the net result: the class saw that Professor Morales doesn’t play favorites and that I’m still on the hook – as much as every other student is – for the standards that he had established for everyone.

  I caught only the last thirty minutes of his lecture – the first one that he gave since mysteriously disappearing for a week. Judging from that half hour when I was present, he seemed to have regained his confidence, and maybe even some new wisdom or perspective. His apparent renewal naturally increased my eagerness to speak with him again – if only to find out what brought about his epiphany or changed outlook. Of course, I also wanted to thank him for his five-million-dollar donation to the Mideast Christian Association (MCA). But when I went up to him after class to try to talk to him, he was rushing out. As he quickly walked to his car, he spoke on his cell phone for most of the time, so it was hard to communicate much with him while hurrying alongside his stride.

  He eventually noticed me there, waiting for the right moment to address him. “I’m sorry, Anissa. I’m in a terrible rush right now. Guys like me have no business disappearing for an entire week without planning for it a solid year in advance.”

  “Right, sorry... I’m just glad you’re OK,” I replied, continuing at a brisk pace that matched his. “And I wanted to thank you for that unbelievably generous donation you sent to – ”

  “No thanks are needed,” he replied with a smile, as we reached his car. “Let’s do this properly, after I’ve put out the biggest fires,” he added, as he opened the door and entered the luxury sedan.

  “So when can I see you again, outside of class?”

  “Hopefully by the end of Friday, things will be more manageable. I just need to get through this week somehow,” he said, closing the door.

  * * *

  Then, on Wednesday, I finally spoke with Michael on Skype and learned more about my professor’s big MCA donation, the change in plans requiring him to stay in Syria longer, and other details.

  “Was there any note or anything with the five-million-dollar wire transfer?” I asked out of curiosity.

  “No, it arrived anonymously from a foundation, which I’m sure is his,” Michael informed me, his face beaming with pride and gratitude.

  “Yes. He didn’t deny sending the money when I tried to thank him for it yesterday,” I noted with a smile.

  “High five, Wonder Woman!” he said, putting his palm up against the screen. I mirrored his action so that our hands virtually touched on my laptop. “Or should I call you ‘Incredible Inās?’ Or maybe just my future Finance Minister for Antioch?” he added with a wink.

  “I’m so happy and excited that this all worked out.”

  “Yes, it did. And guess what? I’m leaving soon to help your family.”

  My face lit up with an even bigger smile. “What do you mean?”

  “I finally had a chance to talk with your uncle, Luke, in Raqqa last week but – until yesterday – I wasn’t sure how I could help, mostly because he hadn’t yet decided where he wanted to relocate his family, and I didn’t have any cash to finance whatever assistance he needed.”

  “And now?” I asked, eager for the latest update.

  “Well, that wire from your professor changed everything. After I sent you that email update yesterday, I called Luke to let him know that I could arrange for a secure transport with moderate Sunni rebels who are my contacts, and that I could help him with any expenses related to his move.”

  “It means so much to me that you’re doing this,” I confessed, my eyes welling up with tears and my heart beating faster. I wanted to give him a huge hug and had to restrain myself from wrapping my arms around my laptop.

  “Well, your uncle sounded very relieved and anxious to leave Raqqa. He kept saying how his family could be targeted any day, and my call gave him the extra confidence he needed to uproot all of his immediate relatives from their hometown. When we spoke yesterday, he requested another day to think about where exactly he wanted to relocate everyone. And today he gave me his answer, just a few hours ago.”

  I wiped away tears. “So where does he want to go?”

  “To Kessab.”

  I looked up as I tried to recall what I knew about that place. “Isn’t that a Christian-Armenian village?”

  “Yes. It’s about a five-hour drive west of Raqqa, and is just south of the border with Turkey. Actually, it’s roughly where historical Antioch was located, but it’s been an Armenian village for centuries.”

  “Why there?” I asked, tilting my head slightly. It seemed odd for my family to be moving to an Armenian village, although the fact that the village is Christian certainly made the decision more understandable.

  “So many places, like Homs, are now out of the question with fierce battles raging between Islamists and the Syrian Army. Many non-Armenian Syrians – especially from the war-torn cities of Raqqa and Aleppo – have been seeking refuge in Kessab, and in other coastal cities like Latakia and Tartus. I personally suggested Latakia to him, because there are more Alawites and regime protections there, so it seemed like a safer bet. But nothing is guaranteed, and Luke said that he has a very good friend in Kessab and some business contacts, so he thinks that village would be his best option at this point.”

  “And you’re going to be personally involved in this relocation?” I asked, amazed at Michael’s courage and self-sacrifice, yet fearful for his safety.

  “Yes, I trust these Sunni rebels, but it’ll be even safer for your family if I am there with them, because they know and respect me. And I promised them $50,000 once your family is safely resettled, so they have every incentive to facilitate a successful move. I’m getting up at the crack of dawn to travel with them to Raqqa, where I’m supposed to meet your uncle at his house by 10 a.m.”

  “My Christian Hero,” I said, touching the part of my laptop where his face appeared. “Just be safe. And thank you so much for this.”

  After we said goodbye, I thought for a moment about how Michael would be the first of my friends from the United States to meet my family in Syria. I also couldn’t help wondering if he had ever met his ex-girlfriend’s family, since he had dated Karen for twice as long as he had known me.

  I shook my head in disapproval of my own petty competitiveness and proceeded to call my sister. It was so wonderful finally to contact her with a positive development that we could both appreciate.

  “This is indeed good news,” Maria said, with a forced, tired smile. “Life here is unbearable. Christians are worse than second-class citizens in Raqqa. Many have been beheaded and a few have even been crucified – horrors that darken your memories forever. We are all subject to Sharia law here and it’s the most oppressive and medieval system you can imagine. There is no music allowed,” she began fighting back tears. “I can’t even remember the last time I played the violin.” I thought of the pain and frustration that Maria must feel, knowing that her talent was going to waste, and her musical skills atrophying by the day. “Women must wear a full niqab veil and cannot go out in public without a male escort. They amputate the limbs
of accused thieves here. Even some Sunni Muslims quietly complain that ISIS is just bastardizing Islamic law as a way to impose its authoritarian rule over the people of this city. So it’s really just about power and control.”

  “I’m so glad you’re finally leaving that Hell,” I said. “But what do you think about going to Kessab?”

  “Inās, nowhere is really safe. Syria is becoming one giant graveyard. Uncle Luke thought about Turkey too, but none of us speaks Turkish, and there are so many Sunni Islamists from all over the world flocking to Turkey on their way to fight here, that I don’t even know if we’d feel safe there as Christians – especially since he doesn’t know anyone there.”

  “And what about Lebanon?” I asked, even though our discussion was entirely theoretical anyway, since Uncle Luke had already decided on another location in Syria.

  “Uncle Luke has better contacts in Kessab. But I think he plans to explore other options in Latakia and maybe also Lebanon, once we settle down a bit. The situation is changing all the time, so we have to be ready for anything, and we’ll need to see what makes the most sense at any given moment. The main thing is to get out of this nightmare where we live now.”

  “Yes – just the fact that Kessab is a Christian village should make your lives easier and safer.”

  “You have no idea how much we’re all excited about that, after getting a very long taste of life under Sharia law.”