Page 9 of Twenty-Three Years of Longing

“You have a lot to learn before you can even think about taking on a project as revolutionary as that,” I stated.

“I’m aware of that.”

“Good. Because for the next two weeks, we will be working closely together. That is not long for you to get familiar with our ways,” I said.

“Are you forgetting that I’m Tabiqian?” she asked. “I am very familiar with how things are here.”

I looked her over again, and said, “No. You knew how things were. Things have changed.”

“I know. When I was a little girl, this was the most horrendous place I could imagine being as a grown woman. I feared the day that I would turn eighteen. I know I was still young, but I remember when it all started to change. When we didn’t need to live in fear any longer,” Raya sighed.

Even though I couldn’t relate to what the women had gone through, I never forgot seeing the effect it had on them. Being that I was ten years older than Raya, it meant that my memories were more vivid than hers. My family and friends had young women who had been taken and sold to rich bastards who didn’t value a human's life. At least not a Tabiqian woman's life. No one had the power to stop what was going on back then. Anyone who tried, was killed. Although we didn’t fully understand who or how the former government was overthrown, we’re grateful it was. And still, as a man, I carry some guilt for not being part of the retaliation.

“You are correct. Things are not as they were. But things have changed even more since you left. This is not the same school you attended. Our goals are different as well.”

Raya nodded. “Which I am sure I will learn all about over the next two weeks.”

“Exactly.” I didn’t want to discourage her from bringing ideas to me. Just not now. So much was going on that she probably wasn’t aware of. It wasn’t my place to tell her either. “Why don’t we see how things go over the next few weeks.”

“I am eager to get started.”

“Good.” I flipped open my laptop and said, “Let me bring your chair to this side of the desk, and we can begin.” Raya got up and grabbed the chair herself. Quickly I rose and said, “Let me.”

She shook her head. “If I can’t handle a chair, how do you think I could handle all these students?”

Good point.

I sat back down and watched as she carried her chair to sit beside me. It felt unnatural for the gentleman in me to let her do so. Raya was clearly strong-minded and independent. Qualities that she would need to do this job. My job was to teach her everything else so she could be successful.

When she was settled, I looked at my laptop and thought about where to start. But I couldn’t help thinking about what she had said about How she had grown up in fear. I felt the need to address that.

“Ms. Davison...”

“Please, call me Raya.”

Even though I didn’t know her, I was glad that she hadn’t been through what so many women before her had. That might be one of the reasons why she carried herself differently. She boldly meets my gaze. She had an internal strength that radiated confidence.

I now understood what Reesa saw in Raya.

“Raya, I’m sorry that you grew up in fear.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

“The students who attend this school now never went through that. Many of them don’t even know what happened.” And I hope they never do.

“None of it?” she asked. I shook my head. “Why?”

“For the same reason why we don’t speak about it among ourselves. It is a time and period that wish could be forgotten,” I stated.

“But you can’t forget something like this. I know I never did. Have you?” she questioned.

“No. But we don’t want it to be a generational pain. Somehow, we need to put an end to it. Reesa has been working hard to help people move forward.”

“By ignoring it happened?” she asked.

I shook my head. “The opposite. Reesa has meetings and groups that give people the chance to talk about what happened. They help each other heal through the process. But through it all, the census is that all want to move forward. No one wants this next generation to carry the burden of our past.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she said softly.

---