As long as you have air in your lungs. A love story

You’ve seen the ribs of the woman you’re in love with sticking out of her chest. You’ve also carried her parents to the morgue. How do you go on from there? Hassan took four pills of Tramadol a day. It glued his broken heart. It’s an opioid that is prescribed to dull physical pain, but Hassan knows it can also make you care less. He could take up to 8 a day, but he doesn’t want to risk serotonin syndrome. A very serious condition you can get from abusing Tramadol.  

Besides, as an ambulance driver he already feels guilty for taking a pain medicine others may need more than he does. He’s also aware of how addictive it can be, but it’s unlikely he will be able to pilfer another box. 

His best excuse for using Tramadol is that it makes him better at his job. 

Take yesterday for example. 

Artillery shells hit houses 20 kilometers out of town. Hassan drives the ambulance over. Explosions in the distance. An ambulance makes them a target in Gaza, there is nothing safe about it. His colleague compliments him on his driving. How can he avoid all the pot holes? Hassan feels like he is floating on a leg. All his movements are automatic. As if Hassan is on holiday, floating on a lake in Spain or wandering about in Barcelona. Marveling at Gaudi’s architecture with Samira by his side. All her ribs intact. Write all family members a postcard at the hotel late at night. Including her cousin who he engaged as match maker. 

At the bombed out village they enter one of the houses. Feathers are everywhere. One of the local says the man who lived there kept birds. Parakeets, finches, canaries and a pair of love birds. 

There are twisted bird cages everywhere. Sounds are coming from one crushed cage. One bird is still alive. One of the love birds. The other one looks as crushed as Hassan’s Samira. Hassan sets the surviving bird free, but it does not leave the side of his dead companion. The local says: ‘It will probably stay here and starve to death rather than move on.’ 

Hassan says that’s sad, but his sadness doesn’t stop him from doing his job. He has to find the old man. His granddaughter should also be here. 

‘Have you explored the house?, he asks. 

The local says: ‘There was no time. We’ve been under artillery bombardment for three days. As soon as it stopped we contacted you.’ 

They find the old man with a parrot on his shoulder behind what’s left of the house in his yard. 

He must have lived for perhaps half an hour. He has a gaping wound in his thigh. Bled to death. 

Hassan says a tourniquet could easily have saved him, but you can’t expect an old man to know that. 

‘Are you sure his granddaughter was with him?’ 

‘She has down syndrome. She never left his side. She helped him take care of the birds. She was always smiling. Happiest girl you ever saw.’ 

They find her in the well. Must have jumped in to keep safe from the bombs exploding. Drowned to death at the bottom. 

‘Could be tricky to get her out of there’, says Hassan. ‘If you tie some rope around my waist I can go down and you and my colleague can pull me back up.’ 

The local suggests to seal off the well and let it be her grave. Hassan shakes his head. ‘Wouldn’t even do that to a dog.’ 

It takes them about an hour to retrieve the girl’s body. 

‘Does she have any other family left?’ 

‘She has a sister in Rafah who lives with her mother. The mother is rather frail. The daughter takes care of her.’ 

‘Somebody will need to inform them.’ 

‘It’s a dangerous drive.’ 

‘I’ll go. They deserve to know. I can run some errands there for our clinic. I will bring them the love bird too.’ 

Hassan ends up marrying the bird collector’s granddaughter. 

The love bird refused to eat, but it was Hassan efforts to have it take food that made the granddaughter fall for him.