VISIONS
The warm, crimson blood slowly trickled from Kalim's cheek towards his forehead as his body hung upside down in the flipped car. The seatbelt remained stuck, digging into his chest and preventing him from moving no matter how much he tried to unlock it. No more than five minutes had passed before the whirling, ear piercing sirens of the police cars and ambulance arrived, but his grandparents in the front seats still laid motionless against the dashboard. Tears mixed with the blood that kept running down Kalim’s face. He saw through the shattered window the legs of policemen rushing towards the car before everything started to blur. Within seconds, he slipped out of consciousness.
12 Years Later
“Have you ever seen a comet?” Kalim asked, looking over to his boyfriend, Zayn. He pulled the towel around them as they sat on the beach, watching the shifting, glimmering waves of the Mediterranean Sea.
“No, I think the last comet to travel across Earth was a couple years ago, but I didn’t actually see it at night. I wish I did,” Zayn replied, gazing toward the horizon.
Above them, the soft colors of twilight started to bleed through the blue ribbon of the sky, bruising it with violet and lavender hues. The sun had melted into the ocean and silver slivers of stars started to appear through the scarred sky.
“I saw that one actually. It flew across London, it was so beautiful,” Kalim reminisced with nostalgia laced through his words. “I wanted to be an astronaut when I was little. I was so fascinated by outer space and life outside Earth.”
“Why didn’t you pursue it then?”
“You know I’m terrible at math and science,” Kalim laughed, “I wanted to, but music better suited my skills.”
“Yeah, being a successful songwriter isn’t so bad,” Zayn grinned with his blue eyes twinkling through the setting darkness like determined stars.
“What did you want to be when you were little?”
“A firefighter. I thought it was so cool watching them riding around in their huge trucks,” Zayn said. “But I’m happy I found my path as an architect. At least it led us here in Marseille.”
“Yeah, it’s been nice being away from London. I never thought I’d have the sea as my backyard,” Kalim’s voice drifted and was carried off by the receding waves. He had a light athletic build, a strong jawline chiseled across his olive toned skin, and short dark hair that curved in locks like the dark waves he gazed upon. His natural expression and straight posture gave him a confident, almost intimidating appearance, if it weren’t for the gentle, curious expression of his warm brown eyes. As gentle as his eyes were, he was never fully able to conceal his true feelings behind their dark honey hue.
They both stared back towards the deep blue bowl of the ocean while the night grew darker, inhaling the salted air as the wind brushed their skin.
“When I was a kid, my parents used to take me on holiday each summer to Italy or Greece. We’d go to the beach, and I used to swim from morning until night,” Kalim grinned. “My mom used to joke that I was going to turn into a merman one day,” he remembered and laughed.
“Back when everything was simpler,” Zayn replied with a grin. “I miss my childhood.”
“Me too. It was just happier. I know I’m only 27 but it feels like it was lifetimes ago,” Kalim ruminated under the darkening sky, letting the slow roll of the waves reach his toes. Twenty minutes passed before Kalim sat up and started to take off his shirt.
“You’re going in now?” Zayn questioned as he watched Kalim stand up.
“Just for a little,” Kalim said and walked slowly from the sand. The cool water rushed around his feet as he waded through, leaving Zayn, who shook his head in disapproval, yet unsurprised.
“Isn’t it freezing? You’re gonna catch a cold.”
Kalim turned to see Zayn wearing a light frown.
“Come on! It’s not as cold once you’re in for a while.”
He held his breath and dove under the dark blanket of the sea. Kalim had always been defiant and strong willed, but the rigid edges of his personality had always served more as armor, protecting himself from the pain of his past wounds. The dark catacombs of memories from his teenage years echoed with the wailing cries of old ghosts. Unable to properly face his demons, he only shut himself off further from all that still haunted him. So as much as he missed his friends and family in London, he was more than eager to leave when Zayn was offered a position in Marseille. Kicking his feet, he surged back up from the depths to the surface and gasped for air.
“Are you freezing yet?” Zayn called out from the beach.
“Nope!” He attempted to hide the shivers that rippled through his voice.
“Come on, it’s dark now.”
“Okay,” Kalim turned to take one last look at the moon peeling its away across the night. His gaze traced from the moon down to the horizon. As he watched its reflection shimmer upon the water, a lightning bolt of realization and fear struck his body. His eyes caught something floating on the ocean’s surface. It was a head with long, tangled hair covering most of the face, slowly bobbing on the water, though too far off in the dark distance for him to make out any other detail.
“Hello?” Kalim muttered. His mind must be playing tricks on him; he and Zayn were the only two on the beach. But as he watched, the head suddenly plunged into the water with unnatural speed and a sharp gasp drew into him like a sword. Arm after arm swung over his head as he thrashed through the water towards the shore until he found his footing and forced himself through the waves until he collapsed on the sand, panting. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding as he looked back at the water and narrowed his eyes, scanning the onyx sea with trepidation. But the head had disappeared.
“What’s wrong? Who were you talking to?” Zayn noticed Kalim’s eyes wide with fear.
“I just… I swear I just saw someone.” Kalim’s voice trembled.
“What was it?”
“I don’t know, it looked like a head.”
Zayn looked out towards the sea.
“A head?”
“Yes, with long hair. I couldn’t see their face though,”
Kalim replied, unable to remove his sight from the sea.
“Kalim, we’re the only people here…” Zayn quickly looked around again to double check, but they were indeed the only two people on the secluded beach, and the neighboring house’s lights were off.
“I swear, it couldn’t have been anything else. I don’t
understand…” Fear reduced his voice to a whisper and his face turned pale. They both stared off into the water, but there was only the shimmering light from the suspended moon.
“Come on… we should head back.” Zayn gathered their things and handed a towel to Kalim, who wrapped it around himself. Kalim took one last look before turning around and following Zayn back up to the house. They made their way through the fence separating the small beach from their little backyard. When they got to the house, their white Persian cat, Asami, was watching them from the sliding door before Zayn slid it open, and they both headed upstairs to the bedroom.
Their room was a small jungle of its own, with beige walls contrasting with the large, lush palm leaves of tropical plants in each corner. Gold-framed pictures decorated the dresser alongside the dim lit lamps and candles that flickered, casting graceful shadows of palm leaves that danced upon each surface. On the opposite wall were doors to a small balcony that overlooked the ocean. Kalim walked towards the windows and looked back out towards the sea. Confusion tugged at each end of his mind, making it impossible for him to figure out what he could have seen.
“I’m gonna jump in the shower,” Zayn said. Noticing Kalim staring outside, he came up to him, putting his hand on his shoulder.
“Come on, I’m sure it was nothing,” he tried to break Kalim’s focus from the window by taking his hand.
“Alright.”
Kalim turned away, still in a flux of fear and confusion while removing his towel and swim briefs, following Zayn into the shower.
Zayn dimmed the lights and they both slid underneath the warm layers of blankets after showering, but Kalim was still silent, stuck in his cloud of thoughts. He knew what he saw. He couldn’t just dismiss it.
“It had to have been a person,” he broke the silence.
“How? No one else was there,” Zayn replied. “I’m sure it was just a—”
“What? A fish with hair? I know what I saw.”
“What did they look like?”
“I don’t know, it was getting too dark, that’s all I could see.”
“So you didn’t see their face?”
“Well not clearly…”
“It was dark, I’m surprised if you were able to see anything. I could barely even see you.”
Kalim sensed Zayn growing tired of his speculation.
“I don’t know then. It was just so strange…” His voice drifted. “I’ve never seen something like that before any of the times I’ve swam here.”
“Well, at least it didn’t eat you,” Zayn joked before yawning. “You shouldn’t be swimming at night anyways.” He moved towards Kalim and put his arm around him.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Kalim whispered. Asami jumped onto the edge of the bed and nestled herself into the blanket.
Hours stretched into the night with no possibility of sleep. It was difficult enough to turn off his mind to sleep on any regular night. Recently, dreams of his past kept resurfacing to the point where he dreaded closing his eyes, but tonight, the flood of thoughts was relentless. It couldn’t have been a sea animal, it was clearly a human head, but that’s impossible. He turned to Zayn, but Zayn had always been quick to fall asleep, and was now breathing softly next to him. Zayn’s peaceful expression formed a soft smile on Kalim’s face and Kalim started to relax a little more. Zayn always appeared to be worry free, calm and collected, which Kalim admired. Maybe Zayn’s right. Maybe it was something else. No one else was on the beach.
Memories of the night they first met started to flicker amid his scattered thoughts, as if it were only yesterday he first locked eyes with Zayn. Kalim was still at university and was going to meet his friend Mohammad at a club one night. The club floor was busy, and he had to push his way through the dancing crowds and parade of lights until he reached the bar and found his friend
“Where’ve you been?!” Mohammad exclaimed.
“I’ve never seen this place so packed! It took a while,” Kalim replied and hugged him. Mohammad had a bright white smile against his cinnamon skin and a warm demeanor that could pull anyone in as quick as a riptide, to which they would gladly surrender. He laughed lightly then turned towards another friend he was with.
“This is my friend Zayn I was telling you about from my class. Zayn, this is Kalim.”
A sudden current of energy rushed through Kalim’s body, crashing like waves against a sea wall as his eyes locked into the deep blue pools of Zayn’s.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Zayn’s voice, soft as honey but twice as sweet, rippled through the air, swimming around Kalim. Zayn was just as tall as Kalim, with a slightly paler, perfectly symmetrical face, and soft yet pronounced cheekbones that accented his vibrant, bold blue eyes. His smile was softer than Mohammad’s, but just as genuine.
“Hey great, nice to meet you,” Kalim responded as coolly as he could in an effort to mask his flux of feelings. He had never been one to fall vulnerable to his emotions so quickly, but he had never felt such an immediate, instinctual connection towards someone before. They spent the night bar hopping across Soho, getting lost in the late summer wind and caught in each other’s stares. He was enamored by Zayn’s humble confidence and the warmth in his smooth voice. Kalim could feel Zayn’s eyes closely following his every word, his every expression, as if waiting to uncover each detail. As introverted as Kalim was when meeting new people, he immediately felt comfortable with Zayn, as if they had known each other for lifetimes. After that night, they had been inseparable for nearly eight years. He grinned over the flickering memory and moved closer to Zayn, wrapping his arms around him, and all the thoughts and questions that burned in his mind slowly cindered away.
About an hour had passed when a strange tingling sensation started to overcome Kalim’s body, slowly waking him. He opened his eyes, and in the distance, two bodies emerged below him through the dark, sleeping in bed. Confused, he narrowed his eyes and tried to focus them before a strike of realization overcame him. He saw his own body, sleeping near Zayn. What the hell? It had to be some strange dream, but he felt completely awake and aware of what was happening. The strange sensation continued to move through him, and he felt light, as if he was completely weightless. The sensation swirled through his body a little while longer before he started to slowly drift down from the ceiling.
“Zayn!” he started to yell, but his voice sounded like a distant echo. He had no control over his movement as he slowly descended towards the bed until his consciousness merged with his body. Normal sensations returned in a jolt, and he felt the weight of his body sink against the mattress like a falling stone. Trying not to wake Zayn and Asami, he slowly got up and went into the bathroom, quietly closed the door and walked towards the sink. He splashed his face with water and stared at himself in the mirror.
What the hell was that? He turned off the faucet, hovering over the sink before he moved to sit on the edge of the bathtub. Each heartbeat pounded like a hammer to a helpless nail. Nightmares weren’t uncommon for him, but nothing like this. Nothing that was inexplicably bizarre but felt so realistic at the same time. The time on his watch read 3:44 on September 4th, and he remembered that in exactly three months, it would mark 13 years since he lost his grandparents in the crash. People always told him that time heals all wounds but he doubted those people had ever watched their loved ones die right before their eyes while being unable to reach them. The accident was too vivid, too traumatic and violent, for him to ever move on. The dam in his mind crumbled and the wreckage of his childhood came flooding back.
“Kalim, put your seatbelt on,” his grandmother told him from the passenger seat. He was 15 years old, and rebellious enough now to think seatbelts were for kids. Kalim buckled into the back of the Mercedes to appease his grandparents who were picking him up from school on the outskirts of London. On their way home to his grandparent’s house, snowflakes gracefully floated down from the December sky. His grandfather turned up the radio. The sound of strings filled the air with a luxurious symphony before a man’s voice started to melt from the speakers, enveloping the car in his warm baritone.
“Do you remember this song, Kalim?” His grandfather quizzed him while keeping his eyes on the road.
“Yes, it’s Abdel Halim Hafez. But I still can’t understand the words,” he confessed.
“You need to practice your Arabic!” His grandfather grinned. His drove cautiously up and down the small hills that led to their house, avoiding piles of snow and black ice.
“We’ll practice more. Pretty soon you will be writing in Arabic too,” his grandfather assured him.
“Kalim, after you finish your homework, you have to show me what you’ve rehearsed for the piano recital,” Kalim’s grandmother reminded him. “Have you been practicing?”
“Yes I’m getting better,” Kalim said proudly. “I can play almost perfectly without messing up.”
“Okay, we’ll see.” She smiled softly in pride. Kalim’s skills in music had been nurtured by his grandmother who was a talented pianist. Even at an early age, his grandparents had noticed his blossoming creativity and a capacity for patience, greater than his cousins, and he developed his skills quickly.
He heard his grandfather gently hum to the song, and he tried to pick up any words he knew but could only understand a few. Giving up, he looked outside, watching the fresh snow coat the dead trees when a flash of brown darting through the forest caught his attention.
Kalim followed the deer with his eyes until, suddenly, it turned left and sprinted into the road. A sharp yell pierced his ears, and it was over in seconds.
It’s all he could remember. The ear drilling noise of the combusting car shocked him out of his thoughts and his memories started to flicker like a flame struggling in the wind.
Another surge of thoughts overcame him with force, trapping him in the insistent, monotone beat of a bedside heart monitor in the hospital. His eyes were closed but he could hear two voices cutting the cold air in the room.
“Your son is doing better. He didn’t lose as much blood and his chart is looking good,” the stern voice of a reassuring doctor said in attempt to ease the soft sobs of his mother.
“Thank you. I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself if I lost him too,” she said in between her sharp inhales.
“Of course. It’ll take some time for his arm to heal, but he has a minor concussion to his head that I still want to monitor for the next few days. If you need anything else, just let one of the nurses know.”
“Okay, thank you again,” his mother struggled to say, trying to control her breath. Her warm hand rested on his arm.
“Habibi, you’re going to be okay,” she said, reassuring him and continuing to fight her tears. Her voice echoed within the walls of Kalim’s mind over and over.
His memories spiraled again, tugging at each end of his mind, and propelling himself back to his childhood home in London, two weeks after the accident. The pain had almost fully subsided, but it was too late. He peeled himself out of bed, desperate for another pill, and opened the bedside drawer. He found the small pill bottle that read Hydrocodone and opened it. Damn it, there’s only three left. Two pills slid from the bottle into his hands and with urgency, he swallowed them down and fell back into bed. He waited, still stricken by the trauma of the accident. The sound of the car crashing and flipping never stopped replaying in his head. He could still feel the pull of the seatbelt against his body and his arm hitting the window as the car flipped, and he swore he could still taste the blood in his mouth. He remained haunted by horrifying images of his bloody and battered grandparents lying dead against the dashboard of the car, and the blood from the deer staining the white road red on that cold December day.
Minutes later, the warm rush of pure, painless ecstasy overcame him, washing away his memories of the accident and carrying them out of his mind. Every ounce of pain, every horrific image, melted away into stillness. I have to get more, I’ll call the doctor tomorrow… His last thought floated away as the sensation intensified into a fuzzy cloud of bliss. Finally, he could sleep.
“Kalim… habibi… wake up… wake up,” he kept hearing his mother’s voice grow frantic until he opened his eyes. There was a strange heaviness to his body against his bed. He tried to ignore his mother, pulling the cover over him.
“Kalim, it’s been weeks. You need to get out of bed sometime.” His mother kept pulling the covers back with concern etched across her face.
“What do you want, Mum? What do you want me to do?” Kalim barely managed to say, all trace of life and happiness stolen from his voice. His mother sat down on the bed beside him.
“I don’t know, how about getting out of this bed for a start? You’ve been out of school for nearly over a month. You haven’t seen any of your friends, and you barely leave the house. Baba and I don’t know what else to do anymore. I know what happened was horrible but—"
“No, you don’t,” Kalim cut her off. “You weren’t there. You don’t know what it was like so don’t tell me what I should be doing and how I should feel.” His face grew hot, and his eyes started to water in a mix of sadness and aggression. He didn’t feel like himself anymore. He didn’t feel anything anymore.
“You’re right, Kalim, I don’t…” She paused before continuing. “I think you should go back to therapy, and take it seriously this time,” she suggested.
“How about you and baba go to therapy this time, with all your fighting and yelling,” he snapped back.
His mother sighed. “Kalim, your dad has not been in his right mind either. His parents are gone, and it’s been stressful for all of us. I know it’s been difficult, and I’ve been trying to help the best way I can, but you are just not reciprocating any effort. You’ve already missed so much school, but you have to get on with life again. We all have to.”
Kalim didn’t respond. He tried to sit up; his body ached from being in bed too long.
“I need more medication; can you call the doctor.”
“You mean the psychiatrist? Did you finish your antidepressants?”
“No, I need more pain medicine… my arm still hurts,” he lied.
“Your arm still hurts? It’s been over a month.”
“I don’t how long it takes to heal, it just hurts,” he pressed further.
“I don’t think they’ll prescribe anymore, but I’ll t-” his mother’s voice was cut off by the sound of his father prowling through the hallway to his room. All sensation in Kalim’s body was stunned into a frigid paralysis.
“Amira, where are you?” Kalim froze at the coldness of his father’s tone. While Kalim had fallen into a state of depression, his father’s method of coping was to unfurl his furious flames of rage towards Kalim, as though everything that happened was Kalim’s fault. His father’s anger only added more salt to the wounds, preventing Kalim from any way of moving on.
“Why are you bothering with him again?”
“Not now, Rashad.”
Kalim noticed a shift in his mother’s energy as well. As if all the warmth in the room had left through the window, leaving them to shiver in the presence of his father. His mother turned back towards him.
“What do you want for dinner? I can make your favorite,” she tried to cheer him up, pulling the cover off of him, but the last thing Kalim wanted to do was sit at the same table as his father.
“I don’t know, I’m not very hungry,” he tried shifting the covers back over himself.
“What’s this on your arm?” His mother grabbed Kalim’s other arm, the one that hadn’t been injured, noticing the deep purple bruises Kalim had forgotten to hide from her. He quickly pulled the cover around him, and his face burned.
“Nothing, I got hurt.”
“What do you mean got hurt, you barely leave your room. Did you hit it on something?” She leaned in further, trying to pull the covers off of him, but he wouldn’t let her. He couldn’t let her see the bruises nor the tears that had started to flood and pour down his face. If she knew, it would only further enrage his father, who looked for any additional reason to unload his unhinged rage onto Kalim.
Everything always seemed to be his fault. But he was aware of the rising friction between his parents, and he couldn’t be the reason for his father to lash out at his mother if she tried to defend Kalim. His father already had suspicions about his sexuality and had started growing cold towards him the past few years, but the accident sent him over the edge. It was all too much for Kalim to endure. His head felt like it was going to explode with every cracking word.
“Kalim!” His mother’s voice started to echo. “Kalim, answer me!” The echo continued until it shifted into the voice of a man and suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
“Kalim? What are you doing in there?” Zayn’s voice pulled him out of the dark lake of his mind, and he sat, drenched with sweat and tears that dripped onto the bathroom floor.
