Poem: "Le rêve et l’amour"
This poem was written outside the regular prompt calls. It fills the "Je T'aime" square in my 2-5-19 card for the Fluff Bingo fest. It has been sponsored by Anthony & Shirley Barrette. This poem belongs to the Rutledge thread of the Polychrome Heroics series.
"Le rêve et l’amour"
[Monday, September 15, 2014]
There was just something about her.
Ayah first noticed the woman
in Literature of Vermont, her arms
full of books in English and French.
She had fair skin and blue eyes,
with chin-length hair streaked in
lighter and darker shades of blonde,
so unlike Ayah's riot of dark brown curls.
Her hair looked like woodgrain and it
made his fingers itch to touch it.
Ayah saw her again during
French in North America, where
she got into lively discussions
with teacher and classmates alike.
Her lilting French accent made him
smile whenever he heard it.
In Reading Literature, she
had another armload of books,
this time including Abenaki.
Ayah recognized that language
from the organizers of Tinder,
a club for traditional outdoor skills,
although he couldn't speak it.
The college had a summer program
for it, though; maybe he'd try that.
Ayah watched, but he didn't approach.
He didn't want to be 'that guy,' as
the American students put it.
He just enjoyed the sunshine
that seemed to follow in her wake.
[Saturday, September 27, 2014]
In the morning, Ayah was still
half-asleep when he went out
to the Middlebury Cycling ride.
He got their bikes tangled together,
her elegant blue city bike and
his old silver thing that he'd
found at a yard sale for $10.
She didn't tease him about it.
"Those French-Canadian girls
are hot, eh?" said the boy
next to them, but that was
rude, so Ayah ignored it.
The ride through town
was pretty, and sometimes
he could hear her laughter trailing
behind her like bells on a ribbon.
In the afternoon, Ayah was
much more alert when he went
to the Middlebury Mountain Club
and found himself hiking beside her.
"Hi," she said. "I'm Talerie. We seem
to have some classes in common."
"Uh, yeah," said Ayah. He was
blushing; he was fair enough for it
to show, too, unlike most Syrians.
"Three, I think, and these two clubs.
I'm majoring in Creative Writing and
Vermont Studies. What about you?"
"Vermont Studies with a minor in
Creative Writing," said Talerie.
"In summer, I'm working toward
a master's degree in French."
She was wearing a black shirt
that read, Je t'aime in elegant script.
"Yeah, I speak French too," said Ayah.
"I saw you with some Abenaki books?"
"I'm learning Abenaki," said Talerie.
"It's an interesting language, but
nothing like English or French."
Ayah nodded. "Languages are
so different from each other, but
once you've learned two of them,
new ones get easier, because
you can see the parallels."
"That's true. I love linguistics,"
Talerie said with a dazzling smile.
Ayah wasn't so much into
the academics of it, but he
did enjoy exploring languages.
That had come in handy when
he was backpacking across Europe
after escaping the riots in Damascus.
"Linguistics is good for many jobs,"
Ayah said, nodding. "Wise choice."
Talerie waved at Ayah's T-shirt,
which read, There is a voice that
does not use words. Listen.
"You like poetry?" she said.
"Yes, reading and writing it,
in all my languages," said Ayah.
"I want to express my experiences,
and weave myself into my new home.
Poetry is better than prose for that."
"So it is," Talerie said. "What languages?"
"English and French, of course, plus
Arabic and Farsi," said Ayah. "I got
a full scholarship in exchange for tutoring
students in the latter two. I picked up bits of
German, Italian, and Spanish while traveling."
"Well, throw in high-level French students,
we like exploring how the language gets
used in other countries," said Talerie.
Ayah used his vidwatch to make a note.
He could ask his supervisor about adding
French and English to his offerings for
when he didn't have anyone waiting
on the Arabic or Farsi coaching.
[Friday, October 17, 2014]
They discovered that they had
more interests in common, along
with some interesting differences.
Both Ayah and Talerie belonged to
the International Students' Organization.
Sometimes they translated for other students
whose second language was still growing in.
Other times they talked about campus issues.
Often they just lounged around the room
watching movies in various languages
and discussing them in various others.
When Ayah and Talerie sat together,
then their friends teased them in
a good-natured way about
"personal diplomacy."
Ayah was taking classes on
The Structure of Poetry and
Multi-Ethnic American Literature.
Talerie had The Making Of Vermont and
Language Ideologies in the Francophone World.
Sometimes they studied together, exchanging
tidbits from the classes they didn't share.
[Saturday, November 15, 2014]
Ayah and Talerie also explored
each other's student groups.
One of Ayah's activities was
the Blackbird Arts Journal,
where he submitted poetry
and was learning about editing.
Ayah was embarrassed when
the head editor hustled Talerie
for more French contributions,
but Talerie just laughed and
promised to ask her friends.
She belonged to the French Club,
which Ayah hadn't even known about,
so that was something else that they
could do when schedules allowed.
Talerie invited him to the Free Heelers,
too, but it was a glorious disaster. Ayah
was in no way equipped for skiing and they
wound up in a giggling tangle on the ground.
Ayah invited Talerie to Tinder the day they
were learning historic firestarting skills.
"Why in the world would you want
to learn how to rub two sticks together?"
Talerie complained, shaking her hands.
"My arms feel like wet noodles!"
"Because I never want to go
without fire again when I need it,"
Ayah said quietly. "It's not good."
"Oh, I am so sorry!" Talerie said.
"I forgot all about the war."
"It wasn't that," Ayah said,
shaking his head. "I escaped
Damascus before it really heated up,
got out with other college students
when nobody looked too closely."
"Then what ...?" Talerie said,
but pulled back. "Never mind,
it's none of my business."
"That's okay," Ayah said.
He felt safe with her. "I spent
a couple years backpacking
around Europe, mostly in groups
of students. I didn't go too far north,
but I got lost in the moors a few times,
and that was ... pretty miserable."
Talerie looked around at the people
learning to start fires with a bow drill
or flint and steel. Most were American,
but one of the teachers and a couple
of the students were Abenaki, and
there were several Hispanic students.
"You're not alone in wanting to learn
for practical reasons," she guessed.
"Probably so," Ayah said. "Some of
them just want to learn for fun, or in
case of emergency, and that's fine too."
[Monday, December 1, 2014]
Ayah shivered so hard that he
fumbled with the classroom door.
He wore a T-shirt and business shirt
under his suitcoat and was still freezing.
Talerie took one look at him and said,
"Cold emergency, I've got this."
"Thank you, Talerie," the teacher said.
"Ayah, get your Vermont Lit notes from
her, and I'll see you on Wednesday."
"Wh-what--" Ayah stuttered as
Talerie stuffed him into her coat.
It was still warm from her body
and he clutched it shamelessly.
"Come on," said Talerie. "We'll
get you into a warming room first,
then have a nurse check you out
to make sure you're okay."
A warming room, it turned out,
was sort of like a foyer but
a little farther inside, full of
heaters and benches.
Most campus buildings
had at least one so people
could thaw out from the winter.
Ayah huddled as close to
the red-glowing heater
as he could get safely.
"You don't know how
to dress for cold weather?"
Talerie asked, worried.
"N-not this c-cold," he said.
"I d-dressed in layers."
"Wrong layers," she said,
shaking her head. "You can't
keep wearing summer things
in winter, you'll freeze. You
need real winter clothes."
Ayah thought about
his budget and winced.
He didn't have much
to spare after essentials.
Apparently this was essential,
and he hadn't budgeted for it, and
now he didn't know what to do.
Talerie waited until his teeth
stopped chattering, and then
dragged him to see a nurse.
Fortunately the nurse was
used to seeing chilled students
from warmer climates, and gave
Ayah stacks of handouts on how
to dress warmly. These were
a lot more specific than what
he'd been given before.
"I don't know what half
of this is," he confessed.
"Emergency shopping trip,"
Talerie said, holding out a hand.
"He doesn't even have a real coat
or boots or anything for winter."
"You're volunteering to supervise?"
the nurse said, rummaging in a drawer.
"Yes, I'm from Canada," said Talerie.
"He can even keep my coat until he
finds one of his own, and I won't
freeze. To me, today is just brisk,
but my jacket's in the wash so
that's why I had the heavy coat."
"All right, here's a Greenbucks card
for emergency shopping," the nurse said.
"Supervisor sign here, rescuee here."
Ayah signed where she pointed.
He'd do anything to get warm clothes.
"Great, this is enough to cover a coat,
boots, and other basics if we shop
frugally," Talerie said. "Let's go."
"I have to be frugal," said Ayah.
"We can use thrift stores?"
"Sure, for sweaters and stuff,
but the coat and boots need to be
new, and I'm guessing that you don't
want used underwear," she said.
"I'll follow your lead," said Ayah,
who already felt pretty lost.
They hit the outlet stores first,
where Talerie taught Ayah what
to look for in winter coats and boots.
They found a gorgeous coat of
blue-gray with fur trim, and boots
of brown leather that didn't go with
any of his clothes, although the fur
on the coat was brown too.
Ayah didn't care: they were
cheap and they were warm.
Talerie offered him packages
of thermal underwear, and he
picked some, blushing. It wasn't
the sort of thing casual friends
should be doing, but she had
saved him from the snow, so
he wasn't going to argue.
He wasn't a great Muslim
anyway. He'd never felt
the attachment to it that
most other people did.
They went to thrift stores,
where Ayah found a hat and
gloves and scarf. They didn't
all match, but the scarf was
navy and tan, so that would
help things go together.
There were jeans lined
with flannel or fleece
for extra warmth.
One thrift store
even had sweaters
new in two-packs,
beautiful thick wool
in gray and white with
contrasting designs.
"Okay, that's enough
to get you started,"
Talerie said. "Budget
for more warm things
when you can -- check
thrift stores for wool pants,
sweaters, or whatever."
"I will," Ayah promised.
"You have taught me well."
Maybe he could tutor people
for finals and earn extra money
that way. Some of his classmates
had more pocket money than
sense; someone would always
be desperate to make up
for not studying earlier.
"I'm glad I could help,"
Talerie said. "The cold
is nobody's friend."
That gave Ayah an idea.
"Would you like to get
some coffee?" he said.
"I feel like I should do more
than just say thank you."
Talerie gave her sunshine smile.
"I would love to get coffee with you."
They stopped at a place that sold
not only coffee but also hot sandwiches.
You could point at things under the glass,
and they'd throw it on bread for you and
grill it until the cheese oozed out.
Hot coffee with cream and
a turkey-Swiss sandwich went
a long way toward warming
his body, but it was Talerie
who warmed his heart.
[Sunday, December 14, 2014]
Talerie went home for the holidays.
Ayah had nobody else to celebrate with,
as most of his classmates did the same.
He did the best he could with other refugees
in Rutledge, and a few people he knew in
Middlebury, but it just wasn't the same.
The locals were generous, though,
and that made him feel better.
Malva Headstrong Wallace
got her hands on factory seconds
of lightweight wool sweaters that
all said Vermont on the front, and
she gave every refugee a three-pack.
They were soft and supple enough
to layer under another sweater for
winter, or wear alone in spring.
The stitching was flawed in places,
but nothing that couldn't be fixed.
Garcelle De Guignes had come in
from Ville de Roses, bringing clothes
she'd made in rustic French style;
and Evening Starr had come down
from Emerald Mountain Glenn with
her daughter Morning, bringing
hippie things like gathering aprons.
Garcelle and Evening volunteered
to touch up sweaters if you wanted
the stray threads on yours tacked down
or snipped off, and the Muslim women
were admiring the warm modest clothes
that the seamstresses brought to sell.
Ayah got his sweaters fixed, and
bought a gathering apron for Talerie.
He wasn't sure about her tastes, yet,
but she liked hiking, and who hadn't
gone hiking only to wish they had a way
to carry home all those wild strawberries
or nuts or whatever they had found?
[Sunday, January 4, 2015]
The students returned to Middlebury,
and Ayah watched them tumble
out of buses and cars, laughing.
He wore two sweaters over
his thermal underwear and
felt quite toasty in the snow.
He was not expecting
Talerie to throw herself
on him and exclaim, "Ayah!
I missed you so much!"
He'd missed her too,
though, so he hugged
her back and said, "It's
so good to see you again.
You feel like home."
Talerie chattered about
her family and friends
and what she'd done
during the holidays.
Shyly Ayah handed her
the present, carefully
wrapped according
to American custom.
Talerie opened it and
squealed in his ear.
"A gathering apron from
Emerald Mountain Glen!"
she said. "I've heard of these,
but never had a chance to buy
one -- they aren't sold in stores."
"I'm glad you like it," said Ayah.
"The Hispanic students made
Aztec Hot Chocolate. Shall we
stop by their cart and get some?"
"I'd love to," said Talerie. "You
can't beat chocolate filled
with warming spices."
That had been exactly
how Ayah felt when he
discovered the stuff.
One thing led to another,
and Talerie invited Ayah
back to her place, and
then into her bed.
Well, why not? They
liked each other, and it
wasn't like he could get
arrested for fornication.
It was perfectly legal in
America, and Ayah knew
college students who
did it all the time.
Talerie was certainly
well prepared for it.
She had a whole drawer
full of interesting toys and
supplies, some for personal use,
others for partners, and they
had fun exploring that even
if it wasn't always perfect.
It was infinitely better
than the furtive fumbles
that Ayah had risked
back in Syria before this.
He was also possibly
falling in love with Talerie.
[Monday, February 2, 2015]
It took a while to get everything
sorted out for the new semester, but
they had four classes together now.
Race and Ethnicity in Vermont
and Migration and Food Systems
were fascinating because each of
them had a different perspective.
Intro to Contemporary Literary Theory
wasn't as exciting, but they both enjoyed
the workshop on Environmental Literature.
Ayah also had Encounters with the Wild
about nature poetry, while Talerie had
chosen Poetry and Painting in France.
He wanted to develop a framework of
symbolism for Syrians in Vermont,
to help them express their feelings
about their new homeland here.
That gave Ayah and Talerie things
to discuss, and they enjoyed comparing
poetry with art and nature -- especially
when they could snuggle up in front
of a roaring fire while watching
the snow fall outside the window.
It was turning into a good year,
and Ayah was beyond grateful.
[Tuesday, April 14, 2015]
Then Talerie got sick.
There was some sort of
stomach bug going around
campus, and Ayah was terrified,
even though Middlebury had
perfectly good health care.
He'd been in too many places
that didn't, not to mention what
he'd heard from other refugees.
Talerie caught Ayah after
Environmental Literature and
drew him into the Forgotten Garden
behind the big greenhouses where
botany students threw out their failures,
so it was a riot of tame and wild flowers.
"Come and sit with me," she said,
patting the concrete bench.
"Should you be outside?"
Ayah fretted. "You're sick."
"I'm not sick," Talerie said.
"It's not that stomach bug."
"What, then?" Ayah said
as he sat down beside her.
"Remember when the condom
broke?" she said. "I'm pregnant."
"Allah yiga’alu mn al zurriyya saliha,"
Ayah said automatically, then translated,
"May God make a good baby for you."
Then he realized that she was telling him
because it was his, and his heart flew up
in a giddy spiral before plummeting.
In America, women didn't have to keep
a surprise baby if they didn't want to.
"What will you do?" Ayah asked.
His guy friends had insisted that was
the safest thing to say in such cases.
"I don't know. I haven't decided yet.
I wanted to discuss this with you first,"
she said. "This concerns you too."
"Do you ... want children?"
Ayah asked hopefully.
She was so sweet. She'd
make a wonderful mother.
"I do, yes," said Talerie.
"I hadn't planned on starting
a family just now, but I do
have a college degree already,
so it's not as unsettling for me
as it would be for a younger girl.
If necessary I can just skip
a summer or a semester."
"That would work," Ayah said.
Talerie was taking summer classes
toward a master's degree in French
and regular ones for another bachelor's
in Vermont Studies alongside him.
"I talked with some people about
college complications, and they said
it's a challenge but students have worked
around pregnancies before," Talerie reported.
"Do you ... need help?" Ayah said. "I don't
have much money, you already have
more than I do, but I could give you
my time and my hands instead."
"I'd like that," Talerie said.
"And if I would like more ...?"
It took a minute for Ayah
to figure out what she was
delicately hinting around.
"I don't have -- there aren't --"
He lacked a ring and flowers and
everything else a modern woman
would want to do this properly.
Then inspiration struck.
"Wait, yes I do!" he said.
Ayah ran around the garden,
snatching handfuls of opportunity.
Then he went to his knees.
"Wild flowers for a wild child
who comes to us in a time of
its own choosing," he said,
handing her red trillium
and spring beauties.
"Sweet herbs for
a sweet woman who
always has a kind word
for those in need," he said,
giving her sprigs of oregano
and sweet woodruff.
"Blooming thorns for
a man who has come
through war to find peace,"
he said with a twig of apricot.
"Shall we become one family,
and walk the world together,
wherever life may take us?"
Ayah finished hopefully.
"Oh, yes!" Talerie said.
"Though how we're
meant to follow that
with better wedding vows,
I have no earthly idea."
"I'm a poet," said Ayah.
"Give me time and I'll
think of something."
"I'm sure you will,"
Talerie said fondly.
"This hardly seems real,"
Ayah said, one hand hovering,
hesitant to touch her now.
Talerie just smiled and
pressed his hand over
her flat belly. “Il n’est rien
de réel que le rêve et l’amour.”
"It will be all right," Ayah said,
"even if we have -- what's the French?
Vivre d’amour et d’eau fraîche."
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character and content notes appear separately.
"Le rêve et l’amour"
[Monday, September 15, 2014]
There was just something about her.
Ayah first noticed the woman
in Literature of Vermont, her arms
full of books in English and French.
She had fair skin and blue eyes,
with chin-length hair streaked in
lighter and darker shades of blonde,
so unlike Ayah's riot of dark brown curls.
Her hair looked like woodgrain and it
made his fingers itch to touch it.
Ayah saw her again during
French in North America, where
she got into lively discussions
with teacher and classmates alike.
Her lilting French accent made him
smile whenever he heard it.
In Reading Literature, she
had another armload of books,
this time including Abenaki.
Ayah recognized that language
from the organizers of Tinder,
a club for traditional outdoor skills,
although he couldn't speak it.
The college had a summer program
for it, though; maybe he'd try that.
Ayah watched, but he didn't approach.
He didn't want to be 'that guy,' as
the American students put it.
He just enjoyed the sunshine
that seemed to follow in her wake.
[Saturday, September 27, 2014]
In the morning, Ayah was still
half-asleep when he went out
to the Middlebury Cycling ride.
He got their bikes tangled together,
her elegant blue city bike and
his old silver thing that he'd
found at a yard sale for $10.
She didn't tease him about it.
"Those French-Canadian girls
are hot, eh?" said the boy
next to them, but that was
rude, so Ayah ignored it.
The ride through town
was pretty, and sometimes
he could hear her laughter trailing
behind her like bells on a ribbon.
In the afternoon, Ayah was
much more alert when he went
to the Middlebury Mountain Club
and found himself hiking beside her.
"Hi," she said. "I'm Talerie. We seem
to have some classes in common."
"Uh, yeah," said Ayah. He was
blushing; he was fair enough for it
to show, too, unlike most Syrians.
"Three, I think, and these two clubs.
I'm majoring in Creative Writing and
Vermont Studies. What about you?"
"Vermont Studies with a minor in
Creative Writing," said Talerie.
"In summer, I'm working toward
a master's degree in French."
She was wearing a black shirt
that read, Je t'aime in elegant script.
"Yeah, I speak French too," said Ayah.
"I saw you with some Abenaki books?"
"I'm learning Abenaki," said Talerie.
"It's an interesting language, but
nothing like English or French."
Ayah nodded. "Languages are
so different from each other, but
once you've learned two of them,
new ones get easier, because
you can see the parallels."
"That's true. I love linguistics,"
Talerie said with a dazzling smile.
Ayah wasn't so much into
the academics of it, but he
did enjoy exploring languages.
That had come in handy when
he was backpacking across Europe
after escaping the riots in Damascus.
"Linguistics is good for many jobs,"
Ayah said, nodding. "Wise choice."
Talerie waved at Ayah's T-shirt,
which read, There is a voice that
does not use words. Listen.
"You like poetry?" she said.
"Yes, reading and writing it,
in all my languages," said Ayah.
"I want to express my experiences,
and weave myself into my new home.
Poetry is better than prose for that."
"So it is," Talerie said. "What languages?"
"English and French, of course, plus
Arabic and Farsi," said Ayah. "I got
a full scholarship in exchange for tutoring
students in the latter two. I picked up bits of
German, Italian, and Spanish while traveling."
"Well, throw in high-level French students,
we like exploring how the language gets
used in other countries," said Talerie.
Ayah used his vidwatch to make a note.
He could ask his supervisor about adding
French and English to his offerings for
when he didn't have anyone waiting
on the Arabic or Farsi coaching.
[Friday, October 17, 2014]
They discovered that they had
more interests in common, along
with some interesting differences.
Both Ayah and Talerie belonged to
the International Students' Organization.
Sometimes they translated for other students
whose second language was still growing in.
Other times they talked about campus issues.
Often they just lounged around the room
watching movies in various languages
and discussing them in various others.
When Ayah and Talerie sat together,
then their friends teased them in
a good-natured way about
"personal diplomacy."
Ayah was taking classes on
The Structure of Poetry and
Multi-Ethnic American Literature.
Talerie had The Making Of Vermont and
Language Ideologies in the Francophone World.
Sometimes they studied together, exchanging
tidbits from the classes they didn't share.
[Saturday, November 15, 2014]
Ayah and Talerie also explored
each other's student groups.
One of Ayah's activities was
the Blackbird Arts Journal,
where he submitted poetry
and was learning about editing.
Ayah was embarrassed when
the head editor hustled Talerie
for more French contributions,
but Talerie just laughed and
promised to ask her friends.
She belonged to the French Club,
which Ayah hadn't even known about,
so that was something else that they
could do when schedules allowed.
Talerie invited him to the Free Heelers,
too, but it was a glorious disaster. Ayah
was in no way equipped for skiing and they
wound up in a giggling tangle on the ground.
Ayah invited Talerie to Tinder the day they
were learning historic firestarting skills.
"Why in the world would you want
to learn how to rub two sticks together?"
Talerie complained, shaking her hands.
"My arms feel like wet noodles!"
"Because I never want to go
without fire again when I need it,"
Ayah said quietly. "It's not good."
"Oh, I am so sorry!" Talerie said.
"I forgot all about the war."
"It wasn't that," Ayah said,
shaking his head. "I escaped
Damascus before it really heated up,
got out with other college students
when nobody looked too closely."
"Then what ...?" Talerie said,
but pulled back. "Never mind,
it's none of my business."
"That's okay," Ayah said.
He felt safe with her. "I spent
a couple years backpacking
around Europe, mostly in groups
of students. I didn't go too far north,
but I got lost in the moors a few times,
and that was ... pretty miserable."
Talerie looked around at the people
learning to start fires with a bow drill
or flint and steel. Most were American,
but one of the teachers and a couple
of the students were Abenaki, and
there were several Hispanic students.
"You're not alone in wanting to learn
for practical reasons," she guessed.
"Probably so," Ayah said. "Some of
them just want to learn for fun, or in
case of emergency, and that's fine too."
[Monday, December 1, 2014]
Ayah shivered so hard that he
fumbled with the classroom door.
He wore a T-shirt and business shirt
under his suitcoat and was still freezing.
Talerie took one look at him and said,
"Cold emergency, I've got this."
"Thank you, Talerie," the teacher said.
"Ayah, get your Vermont Lit notes from
her, and I'll see you on Wednesday."
"Wh-what--" Ayah stuttered as
Talerie stuffed him into her coat.
It was still warm from her body
and he clutched it shamelessly.
"Come on," said Talerie. "We'll
get you into a warming room first,
then have a nurse check you out
to make sure you're okay."
A warming room, it turned out,
was sort of like a foyer but
a little farther inside, full of
heaters and benches.
Most campus buildings
had at least one so people
could thaw out from the winter.
Ayah huddled as close to
the red-glowing heater
as he could get safely.
"You don't know how
to dress for cold weather?"
Talerie asked, worried.
"N-not this c-cold," he said.
"I d-dressed in layers."
"Wrong layers," she said,
shaking her head. "You can't
keep wearing summer things
in winter, you'll freeze. You
need real winter clothes."
Ayah thought about
his budget and winced.
He didn't have much
to spare after essentials.
Apparently this was essential,
and he hadn't budgeted for it, and
now he didn't know what to do.
Talerie waited until his teeth
stopped chattering, and then
dragged him to see a nurse.
Fortunately the nurse was
used to seeing chilled students
from warmer climates, and gave
Ayah stacks of handouts on how
to dress warmly. These were
a lot more specific than what
he'd been given before.
"I don't know what half
of this is," he confessed.
"Emergency shopping trip,"
Talerie said, holding out a hand.
"He doesn't even have a real coat
or boots or anything for winter."
"You're volunteering to supervise?"
the nurse said, rummaging in a drawer.
"Yes, I'm from Canada," said Talerie.
"He can even keep my coat until he
finds one of his own, and I won't
freeze. To me, today is just brisk,
but my jacket's in the wash so
that's why I had the heavy coat."
"All right, here's a Greenbucks card
for emergency shopping," the nurse said.
"Supervisor sign here, rescuee here."
Ayah signed where she pointed.
He'd do anything to get warm clothes.
"Great, this is enough to cover a coat,
boots, and other basics if we shop
frugally," Talerie said. "Let's go."
"I have to be frugal," said Ayah.
"We can use thrift stores?"
"Sure, for sweaters and stuff,
but the coat and boots need to be
new, and I'm guessing that you don't
want used underwear," she said.
"I'll follow your lead," said Ayah,
who already felt pretty lost.
They hit the outlet stores first,
where Talerie taught Ayah what
to look for in winter coats and boots.
They found a gorgeous coat of
blue-gray with fur trim, and boots
of brown leather that didn't go with
any of his clothes, although the fur
on the coat was brown too.
Ayah didn't care: they were
cheap and they were warm.
Talerie offered him packages
of thermal underwear, and he
picked some, blushing. It wasn't
the sort of thing casual friends
should be doing, but she had
saved him from the snow, so
he wasn't going to argue.
He wasn't a great Muslim
anyway. He'd never felt
the attachment to it that
most other people did.
They went to thrift stores,
where Ayah found a hat and
gloves and scarf. They didn't
all match, but the scarf was
navy and tan, so that would
help things go together.
There were jeans lined
with flannel or fleece
for extra warmth.
One thrift store
even had sweaters
new in two-packs,
beautiful thick wool
in gray and white with
contrasting designs.
"Okay, that's enough
to get you started,"
Talerie said. "Budget
for more warm things
when you can -- check
thrift stores for wool pants,
sweaters, or whatever."
"I will," Ayah promised.
"You have taught me well."
Maybe he could tutor people
for finals and earn extra money
that way. Some of his classmates
had more pocket money than
sense; someone would always
be desperate to make up
for not studying earlier.
"I'm glad I could help,"
Talerie said. "The cold
is nobody's friend."
That gave Ayah an idea.
"Would you like to get
some coffee?" he said.
"I feel like I should do more
than just say thank you."
Talerie gave her sunshine smile.
"I would love to get coffee with you."
They stopped at a place that sold
not only coffee but also hot sandwiches.
You could point at things under the glass,
and they'd throw it on bread for you and
grill it until the cheese oozed out.
Hot coffee with cream and
a turkey-Swiss sandwich went
a long way toward warming
his body, but it was Talerie
who warmed his heart.
[Sunday, December 14, 2014]
Talerie went home for the holidays.
Ayah had nobody else to celebrate with,
as most of his classmates did the same.
He did the best he could with other refugees
in Rutledge, and a few people he knew in
Middlebury, but it just wasn't the same.
The locals were generous, though,
and that made him feel better.
Malva Headstrong Wallace
got her hands on factory seconds
of lightweight wool sweaters that
all said Vermont on the front, and
she gave every refugee a three-pack.
They were soft and supple enough
to layer under another sweater for
winter, or wear alone in spring.
The stitching was flawed in places,
but nothing that couldn't be fixed.
Garcelle De Guignes had come in
from Ville de Roses, bringing clothes
she'd made in rustic French style;
and Evening Starr had come down
from Emerald Mountain Glenn with
her daughter Morning, bringing
hippie things like gathering aprons.
Garcelle and Evening volunteered
to touch up sweaters if you wanted
the stray threads on yours tacked down
or snipped off, and the Muslim women
were admiring the warm modest clothes
that the seamstresses brought to sell.
Ayah got his sweaters fixed, and
bought a gathering apron for Talerie.
He wasn't sure about her tastes, yet,
but she liked hiking, and who hadn't
gone hiking only to wish they had a way
to carry home all those wild strawberries
or nuts or whatever they had found?
[Sunday, January 4, 2015]
The students returned to Middlebury,
and Ayah watched them tumble
out of buses and cars, laughing.
He wore two sweaters over
his thermal underwear and
felt quite toasty in the snow.
He was not expecting
Talerie to throw herself
on him and exclaim, "Ayah!
I missed you so much!"
He'd missed her too,
though, so he hugged
her back and said, "It's
so good to see you again.
You feel like home."
Talerie chattered about
her family and friends
and what she'd done
during the holidays.
Shyly Ayah handed her
the present, carefully
wrapped according
to American custom.
Talerie opened it and
squealed in his ear.
"A gathering apron from
Emerald Mountain Glen!"
she said. "I've heard of these,
but never had a chance to buy
one -- they aren't sold in stores."
"I'm glad you like it," said Ayah.
"The Hispanic students made
Aztec Hot Chocolate. Shall we
stop by their cart and get some?"
"I'd love to," said Talerie. "You
can't beat chocolate filled
with warming spices."
That had been exactly
how Ayah felt when he
discovered the stuff.
One thing led to another,
and Talerie invited Ayah
back to her place, and
then into her bed.
Well, why not? They
liked each other, and it
wasn't like he could get
arrested for fornication.
It was perfectly legal in
America, and Ayah knew
college students who
did it all the time.
Talerie was certainly
well prepared for it.
She had a whole drawer
full of interesting toys and
supplies, some for personal use,
others for partners, and they
had fun exploring that even
if it wasn't always perfect.
It was infinitely better
than the furtive fumbles
that Ayah had risked
back in Syria before this.
He was also possibly
falling in love with Talerie.
[Monday, February 2, 2015]
It took a while to get everything
sorted out for the new semester, but
they had four classes together now.
Race and Ethnicity in Vermont
and Migration and Food Systems
were fascinating because each of
them had a different perspective.
Intro to Contemporary Literary Theory
wasn't as exciting, but they both enjoyed
the workshop on Environmental Literature.
Ayah also had Encounters with the Wild
about nature poetry, while Talerie had
chosen Poetry and Painting in France.
He wanted to develop a framework of
symbolism for Syrians in Vermont,
to help them express their feelings
about their new homeland here.
That gave Ayah and Talerie things
to discuss, and they enjoyed comparing
poetry with art and nature -- especially
when they could snuggle up in front
of a roaring fire while watching
the snow fall outside the window.
It was turning into a good year,
and Ayah was beyond grateful.
[Tuesday, April 14, 2015]
Then Talerie got sick.
There was some sort of
stomach bug going around
campus, and Ayah was terrified,
even though Middlebury had
perfectly good health care.
He'd been in too many places
that didn't, not to mention what
he'd heard from other refugees.
Talerie caught Ayah after
Environmental Literature and
drew him into the Forgotten Garden
behind the big greenhouses where
botany students threw out their failures,
so it was a riot of tame and wild flowers.
"Come and sit with me," she said,
patting the concrete bench.
"Should you be outside?"
Ayah fretted. "You're sick."
"I'm not sick," Talerie said.
"It's not that stomach bug."
"What, then?" Ayah said
as he sat down beside her.
"Remember when the condom
broke?" she said. "I'm pregnant."
"Allah yiga’alu mn al zurriyya saliha,"
Ayah said automatically, then translated,
"May God make a good baby for you."
Then he realized that she was telling him
because it was his, and his heart flew up
in a giddy spiral before plummeting.
In America, women didn't have to keep
a surprise baby if they didn't want to.
"What will you do?" Ayah asked.
His guy friends had insisted that was
the safest thing to say in such cases.
"I don't know. I haven't decided yet.
I wanted to discuss this with you first,"
she said. "This concerns you too."
"Do you ... want children?"
Ayah asked hopefully.
She was so sweet. She'd
make a wonderful mother.
"I do, yes," said Talerie.
"I hadn't planned on starting
a family just now, but I do
have a college degree already,
so it's not as unsettling for me
as it would be for a younger girl.
If necessary I can just skip
a summer or a semester."
"That would work," Ayah said.
Talerie was taking summer classes
toward a master's degree in French
and regular ones for another bachelor's
in Vermont Studies alongside him.
"I talked with some people about
college complications, and they said
it's a challenge but students have worked
around pregnancies before," Talerie reported.
"Do you ... need help?" Ayah said. "I don't
have much money, you already have
more than I do, but I could give you
my time and my hands instead."
"I'd like that," Talerie said.
"And if I would like more ...?"
It took a minute for Ayah
to figure out what she was
delicately hinting around.
"I don't have -- there aren't --"
He lacked a ring and flowers and
everything else a modern woman
would want to do this properly.
Then inspiration struck.
"Wait, yes I do!" he said.
Ayah ran around the garden,
snatching handfuls of opportunity.
Then he went to his knees.
"Wild flowers for a wild child
who comes to us in a time of
its own choosing," he said,
handing her red trillium
and spring beauties.
"Sweet herbs for
a sweet woman who
always has a kind word
for those in need," he said,
giving her sprigs of oregano
and sweet woodruff.
"Blooming thorns for
a man who has come
through war to find peace,"
he said with a twig of apricot.
"Shall we become one family,
and walk the world together,
wherever life may take us?"
Ayah finished hopefully.
"Oh, yes!" Talerie said.
"Though how we're
meant to follow that
with better wedding vows,
I have no earthly idea."
"I'm a poet," said Ayah.
"Give me time and I'll
think of something."
"I'm sure you will,"
Talerie said fondly.
"This hardly seems real,"
Ayah said, one hand hovering,
hesitant to touch her now.
Talerie just smiled and
pressed his hand over
her flat belly. “Il n’est rien
de réel que le rêve et l’amour.”
"It will be all right," Ayah said,
"even if we have -- what's the French?
Vivre d’amour et d’eau fraîche."
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character and content notes appear separately.