The road to Samarkand

I gave up and rolled over to face her. Finally we seemed to communicate, even if she was the only one talking: maybe that was the reason. She gave me a half-hearted smile and continued.

"Please believe me when I say that I love you more now than I ever did, and that says a lot. I'm proud though, it's hard to admit that I was wrong to leave you, wrong to come back here. It would feel as if I betrayed my people and their history if I went back to Sweden also, and anyway, I have nothing left there now. I have no place that feels like home because I don't belong anywhere. Is it that strange then that I can't think straight? If I hung up my life on you and you shunned me because of what I did it would destroy me. All I really have is Peter junior, and he is in part you too."

"Finally you make some sense Dzenita." I told her at last and kissed her on her nose "I was about to give up trying to understand you, no matter what Fuad said."

"You forgive me?" she asked with the start of a genuine smile spreading over her face.

"No." I said and the smile died an instant death "You make sense, but the issue isn't if I forgive or not. The question is where we stand now and where we go from here. I came here prepared to stay if you hadn't married, but you say you are a stranger here now. That is what you gave as reason for leaving Sweden and me. You love me more than ever, and I know I still love you, but Peter is afraid of me. This is the only place he knows, and he knows people here as well as the language. If -- and I do mean if -- we are to try again we have things to solve that might prove too much. Is it worth it then? That is the question, not if you or I should forgive."

"It is worth a try, if not for our sake so at least for Peter's."

Amira smiled when we walked into the kitchen hand in hand. Ilena nodded before turning back to the stove. Alen put the glass of slivo in my free hand, and since it was 'later' I couldn't refuse. When I had emptied it he filled it up again, smiling, but after that Dzenita put a stop to it with a few harsh words.

- - - - - -

I managed to get a phone-call through to my parents to tell them I would stay a while. The news that they had a grandson threatened to make it a very outdrawn call, but suddenly we were cut off. Another attempt to get through failed, and maybe that was for the best.

My attempts to get closer to little Peter also failed miserably. When Dzenita or Fuad held him in their arms he accepted to be touched by me, but with his face turned the other way. It was very depressing.

My savings in my bank-account was cause for worry since I didn't have total control of how much I had spent. Being abroad didn't make it easier, and in Bosnia even worse I imagine. I went to a bank to see if I could find out how much I had left, but was met with smiles and shaking heads. Where did I think I was, they seemed to say?

Fuad drove me back to Sarajevo over a day when he heard about it, took me to a bank and explained the situation. He added that I was a Swedish soldier that had saved many Bosnian lives during the war, and that I needed help. Half an hour later I had a sheet of paper in my hand showing the last thirty transactions of my Swedish account with a healthy sum remaining. Studying the columns closer I noticed a transaction from my mother that would allow me to stay for a couple of months at least.

It was a relief, not least since my progress with Peter was non-existent. In the car on our way back Fuad raised the question what I should do, and had some suggestions. I was prepared to try anything with the slightest chance of success, what did I have to lose?

Fuad showed more and more that he had contacts all around. Within a couple of days he had a furnished house ready for me to rent, and I moved in with Dzenita and Peter. It was clear to me that Dzenita loved it, but Peter was more hesitant. We all had separate bedrooms, but Peter always stayed close to his mum, even at night.

Next, Fuad got me a job. There were still many buildings in need of repairs, and some were no more than rubble that had to be rebuilt from scratch. I honestly doubted that a Swedish architect without experience was needed, but I would at least do my best to earn my salary.

The idea was to let Peter get used to me and realise I wasn't a threat. The job would give us the time for that to happen, and living together would expose me to him in a natural way.

Maybe Fuad had another purpose too: letting Dzenita and me get used to each other again. Most of the time that worked better than Peter's acceptance of me, but once in a while it put me in awkward situations, like when Dzenita one evening after three weeks asked:

"Do you think I should quit my job and be home with Peter instead of letting him stay with Ilena?"

I didn't know how to answer, because I suspected there might be an underlying issue that was the real reason why she asked. In Sweden, man and woman are equals -- at least in theory -- and both work if possible. I was aware though that it isn't universal, in some cultures women don't work if the man isn't a complete failure, and in others it is high status to let the woman stay at home. In Sweden that may well be seen as an attempt to keep her out of sight, maybe because she is beaten or the man is jealous and don't trust her.

Furthermore it could be that Dzenita sought an assurance that I wouldn't leave her. If I left, she would have to get another job, and that wasn't easy without an education. If I said she should keep the job it might be seen as if I didn't believe in us as a couple.

Yeah, I know that I probably did overthink it all, but I didn't want to jeopardise anything. In my mind it was up to her to decide, we could survive on my salary anyway, but if I told her that, it could be interpreted as lack of interest. Oh hell, there I started anew...

"Peter, didn't you hear what I asked, or are you going to say you're leaving but don't know how to tell me? Say something, anything!"

Both her voice and expression said she was nervous, so I had to say something, and fast. She was faster to continue though.

"If it is sex you want from me I'm willing to let you have me. It's been three years and that night we had was the one and only time for me, so I will probably not be good, but...

"Stop Dzenita! Stop right there and listen to me, please! I'm not planning to leave, and sex is not an issue. The reason why I didn't answer was that I wondered why you asked, if it was something else you wanted to know."

"Something else? What would that be? I asked if I should quit my job to be home with Peter."

"Yeah, I heard you, but tell me, is it a cultural thing that women should stay home with their children? Did you want me to say 'no' to let you know we are equals, or say 'yes' to tell you that I will stay and support you?"

"Oh, I see. No, I didn't have any ulterior motives at all, but I understand what you mean. My reason was that it might make Peter feel more at home here, and that could make him more comfortable to open up towards you. I would have more time to talk with him too, explain who you really are, how we met and so on. I didn't do that before because I didn't think he would get to meet you, and perhaps I would meet a man to marry who would become his father."

"Okay, here is my answer then: do what you think is best. I have no right to tell you what to do, and you know Peter and Bosnian culture far better than I do. It would be like a mute explaining how to pronounce a word if I said anything else."

"But you must have an opinion?"

"Of course, I just told you what it is: you know best, so you decide."

"Fine, I'll think about it some more then before deciding. Now, since it came up: how about sex? You haven't shown any interest, not been intimate at all except for hugs or a hand on my shoulder. You don't want me any more?"

"I do, but we still don't know if this will work. What if you get pregnant again and we find out that we can't stay together? Anyway, would it work with Peter needing to be close to you all the time?"

"Condoms? We do have them here too you know. About Peter: he's not here now, is he? He usually sleeps through the night, so we could go to your room as long as I'm back in my bed in the morning. I'm interested, so what do you say?"

She came closer where we sat on the sofa in the living-room, swung her legs across my lap and put her arms around my neck. I didn't doubt for a second that she really was interested, and looking into her eyes I kissed her lips.

Ten minutes later we were still there, but laying down, holding each other tight and having lost count of the number of kisses exchanged. Dzenita's shirt was unbuttoned all the way, her bra unclasped and pushed out of the way. My shirt lay on the floor and my pants were open. It was time to go to the next level.

"Are you sure about this Dzenita? Really sure?"

"Yes, really really sure."

I rolled off the sofa down on the floor, grabbed my shirt and picked her up in my arms.

"My bed then. I have at least a couple of condoms, so let's use them."

We left the door open to hear if Peter junior woke up. The intensity from Gothenburg wasn't there, instead it was a careful intimacy to not hurt or disrespect. When my supply of protection was gone we cuddled up to get a few more minutes together before she had to go to her room.

- - - - - -

The next morning when I woke up Dzenita was still there in my arms, and Peter's blue eyes stared at us from over by the door. A quick check made sure we were decent with sheet and quilt covering us.

I smiled at Peter but got no reaction at all. Carefully shaking Dzenita's shoulder and whispering in her ear to wake up caused her to sigh, smack her lips a couple of times and then nibbling my earlobe while she pushed herself closer to me.

"Dzenita, Peter is here, staring at us." I whispered when somewhat sure she was awake.

The nibbling on my ear stopped at once and she rolled onto her back, half-sitting with an arm across her breasts to keep the quilt in place.

"Good morning honey!" she said to Peter "Did you miss me in bed when you woke up? Me and dad lay and talked last night and must have fallen asleep too. Come here honey, there's room for you too here."

A hesitant look at me, then he came running and threw himself onto the bed beside Dzenita, crawling further up until he lay on top of her with head resting on her bust. Her hands rustled his blonde hair and she lifted her head and kissed the top of his head.

"Would you mind if daddy put his other arm around us Peter?" she asked him "I want him to be close too, like you are. I know that he want that too."

Peter put his arms around her and seemed to sink deeper into her, but he said nothing.

Dzenitas fingers continued to play in his hair for a while before she tried again.

"What do you say honey? We both love you very much, and daddy has missed you as much as I have missed him. That's very very much, so why don't we let him hug us?"

There was a disinterested shrug from him, but at least it wasn't a refusal, so I turned and put my free arm around them both with the fingers joining Dzenita's in his hair. For the second time ever I hugged my three year old son, and my tears of joy wetted his pajama and Dzenita's bare shoulder.

- - - - - -

Dzenita did quit her job some time later, and Peter slowly opened up to me. It took another month before he tolerated to be alone with me, and by then I was pretty sure I would never leave him. That in turn meant that I wouldn't leave Dzenita either. The question was if I would leave Bosnia?

I honestly wasn't unhappy being there, even though I had the feeling I was tolerated more than accepted. Fuad had returned to Sarajevo a few days after that morning when Peter joined me and Dzenita in bed, saying he knew his job was done to get us together. I got the impression he was free to work when he felt like it, and maybe he was.

It was October when Dzenita raised the question of our future, after tender love-making.

"Peter, what would you say if I went back to university?"

"Why not? Do you think Fuad can find us a place to live in Sarajevo, and a job for me there? Or should Peter and I stay here and you go alone and return over the weekends?"

"Sarajevo? He could probably manage everything, but I didn't plan to go there."

"No? Where then?"

"Gothenburg, or at least Sweden. I want to go back there and start over. Now I know that I don't feel more at home here than there, and I think it would be better for Peter. Better move now so he can learn the language before he begin school."

"What about your father and other relatives? Won't you miss them?"

"Of course I will, but we could come here on vacation every year."

"And your mother?"

"My mother is dead Peter, and I live. She's with me everywhere all the time. Her earthly remains are buried here, but not her soul. It lives on in my heart."

"Well, this was a surprise, but it doesn't matter to me as long as I'm with you and Peter. I have to find a job though, and a place for us to live. There's no Fuad there to solve everything."

"Oh, don't be too sure he doesn't have contacts in Sweden too." Dzenita laughed "My brothers live there you know, but let's see what we can find without their help first."

Dzenita talked to Peter about it some days later, alone, and from what she told me about his reaction he didn't like the idea but had only vague ideas what it really meant.

I was there when she informed her relatives, Hasan included of course. We had visited him a couple of times and he had come to our house somewhat frequently. He had never been much for talking, and his comment on the news was calm and rather short:

"Yeah, I have expected it to happen sooner or later even before Peter showed up. You're more Swedish than you think girl, and that is where you belong. Best of luck to you all."

Fuad and his family nodded and smiled.

"It took years for you to realise it, but as Hasan say it isn't a surprise." Fuad said.

- - - - - -

I got another phone-call through to my parents, and mum's reaction was more emotional.

"Finally! I was beginning to wonder if you would never come home. And together with Dzenita and Peter too!"

"Yeah, well that is if we can find a place to live in Gothenburg and a job for me. Dzenita wants to finish university there."

"Why don't you come live with us to start with? It must be a lot easier to find both from here than from Bosnia."

"Probably, and thanks for the offer. We'll have to talk about it though, and Peter junior can be a bit reluctant to accept new people. I'll let you know."

Dzenita agreed with mum's suggestion, and since junior would have to adapt to a new place anyway it was decided. At times I had the feeling that half of Tuzla was involved in our preparations to leave, but at least Dzenita's relatives were. The last week was filled with visits to say farewell, drink slivo and give and receive gifts.

With two days left before leaving, Dzenita asked me to come with her to visit her mothers grave. With little Peter between us holding our hands we walked up to it and I finally got to know her name: Samira. Dzenita started to speak with tears flowing.

"Mother, I'm so sorry for not visiting more than once. It was too hard though, but now my son Peter is with me, and his Swedish father, giving me strength. We're not married, not yet anyway, but we love each other and I hope that you can accept that we live together anyway. We're moving to Sweden soon, but we will return every year. You are always with me in my heart mother, but I wanted to say goodbye to you until next time here."

Then she turned to me:

"Do you want to say a few words? You don't have to you know."

I wasn't prepared for that, but since I was asked I felt obliged to come up with something.

"Samira, I wish I had gotten the chance to meet you, but it was not to be. I also wish that you had had the chance to see Dzenita grow up and have a son. I promise that I will do my best to take care of Dzenita, Peter and any other children we may have in the future. I give you my word that I will do so. Rest in peace Samira."

Dzenita said a few more words, but too quiet for me to hear, then stood silent for a moment before picking up junior in her arms, kissed his cheek and came close to my side. With my arm around her we left.

Back home we put Peter to bed for a nap, and Dzenita pulled me into my bedroom where she stripped us both. After making love she snuggled close with her head on my shoulder.

"Did I understand you right when you said 'any other children'? You want more?"

"Eventually, yes. I'm in no hurry though, and you certainly have a say in the matter, but why not a daughter? Or more sons, it doesn't matter that much, but if I should wish, at least one daughter. Someone like you."

"Oh, that's sweet! Thank you Peter, and believe me I know what that means since Junior is the spitting image of you. Is it okay if we wait until after I have finished university though?"

"Of course. Like I said, I'm in no hurry."

"Good, I'd hate to break off my studies again, but I'd do it if you wanted me to."

"No Dzenita, you wouldn't. I have no right to demand anything like that of you. What you want is as important as what I want."

"Yeah, but I have some debts to pay off to you. Not telling you about Peter, leaving like that..."

"No you don't." I interrupted before she ran out of breath on that guilt trip "I didn't like it, I admit that, but it is behind us and should stay there, in the past. If we should keep returning to past mistakes we can give this up at once. Remember when I laughed about your suggestion about me going to Sarajevo? A mistake I made that hurt you. We will make more mistakes, and those will be enough to get over without adding old ones."

"Yes, you're right. That was part of the war too, people digging up old injustices to fuel the hatred. But Peter, I still feel guilty about what I said and did."

"I understand that very well, but you see, so do I. We both said stupid things, so we have to learn from that and leave it behind. Or I can apologise to you here and now if you like?"

Pulling her even closer and rolling us over so I was on top of her got that message through, and Dzenita smiled.

"I guess I can accept an apology, if you accept one from me."

Her arms came around me and she spread her legs to give access. Maybe it wasn't that bad to feel guilt, at least if it was equally distributed.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Dzenita and I drove to the summer-camp where Peter was staying. It was his last year, but though it was a bit of a hassle to get there with the month-old twins, we had no intention to skip the visiting day. The twins, yeah: Fuad and Samira. The car was loaded with diapers, a double stroller, picnic basket, blankets and much more, but the sun was shining and we hadn't seen junior for two weeks.

We had no more than unloaded everything and was about to go looking for Peter when someone from the past called for our attention: Marie, the leader who had talked me into befriending a scared and lonely Bosnian girl many years ago. She was older of course, probably forty or so, but I recognised her without a problem.

"Hi Peter, and Dzenita! So good to see you again, and still together!" she cheered "And what is this: twins? Oh, what a cute pair: a boy and a girl is it?"

Yeah, women! Get a newborn baby within armsreach of them, and they forget everything else, but get newborn twins close and everything else cease to exist! Oh well, for this one time I could sympathise...

So, we had a captive fan for five minutes, but in the end Marie remembered why she was actually there:

"There's something I want to ask of you both, and it... well, ha ha, you've been through this before in a way. You see, Peter, your son I mean, has helped a girl who haven't got any friends here and don't speak much Swedish. She's from Colombia and came here with her mother after her dad and older brothers were killed in a drugcartell shooting. Her mother will arrive in half an hour or so on the bus, but they are both in great need of company, normalcy, friendship. Perhaps your family could help them, at least for today, since Peter seems to have adopted this girl? Her name is Isabella by the way."