Page 91 of A Life Imagined
A brief announcement in the newspaper had been met with surprising positivity, not just from residents of Calais but other surrounding towns as well.It turned out they weren’t the only ones wanting to improve the situation for those who continued to flock to Northern France in search of safety.In the wake of the attention, Durand seemed to have changed his tune.He lapped up the praise, taking credit for helping facilitate the build.He’d even held off on demolishing the remainder of the camp in the meantime, so the Jungle persevered, increasingly crowded and dangerous but still a home to many.Rayan didn’t give a shit about credit.All he wanted was to see the project realized.And every day, after work, he made the trip from the center or the service office to walk past the site.
“You know it’s just a drop in the bucket,” Mathias said, lighting the cigarette between his teeth.“This doesn’t solve anything.”
“I know.But it’s a roof over someone’s head, temporary as it may be.”
“And you’re not fazed that it’s built with dirty money?”
“I’m not exactly squeaky-clean myself.”
Mathias smirked and exhaled a stream of smoke from his nostrils.“Maybe you have learned something.”
“That I can use what I have to do better?”
“No.Christ.”Mathias’s upper lip curled in disgust.“Never hesitate to exploit a weakness.That’s the real lesson here.”
Rayan laughed.
They stood and watched as several workers loaded a platform with steel beams and attached it to the hook block of a nearby crane.Once it was secure, the men stepped back, and one of them raised his hand to the operator in the cab.The cable went taut, and the platform slowly began to lift off the ground.
“You figure it’ll be another six months?”Mathias asked, watching the swinging platform move through the air.
“If there are no delays.Construction’s slowed across the city, so they’re making the most of the work.”
“And the wait-list—has it been finalized?”
“Almost.We don’t want to tell families until we’re sure they have a place.”
“I don’t have to guess who’ll be at the top of that list.”
“It’s not preferential treatment,” Rayan protested weakly.“Farhan’s still waiting on his asylum appeal, and the girls need a stable place to live while they’re attending school.They’re exactly who we had in mind when we envisioned this place.”
Mathias snickered.“Who knows?You could even scale it.The city might just prove accommodating with future projects.”
Trust Mathias to see how to build on an opportunity.
The residence was a promising step in the right direction, but there remained a growing need for housing support in both Calais and the surrounding townships.There was potential for this to be bigger still.Rayan had narrowed his focus to good deeds, forgetting that resourcefulness, a dash of friendly intimidation, and a fair amount of tenacity went a long way toward getting results.The meeting of those two strengths—Rayan’s desire to help and the skills he’d gained from a life spent gaming the system—was actually rather brilliant.Here they both were, on full display, the conflicting sides of himself merged to create a universal good.
Mathias tapped his ash.“So, you break even yet?Or is the ledger still skewed in one direction?”
“Thought you told me not to think like that.”
“Knowing and believing aren’t the same thing.”
“Considering the murky means by which the funding came about, the ethics of the endeavor are debatable.”
“Think of it as a donation from one criminal to another.”
“Do we still get to call you that?”Rayan took in the expensive suit, the perfectly slicked-back hair, and the air of authority that radiated from the man.Nothing had changed there.Mathias looked as he had the day they’d first met—yet, at the same time, entirely different.“Careful, Mathias.You’re in danger of becoming a decent human being.”
Mathias shot him a dirty look.“That’s why I’ve got you to keep me honest.”
“You always will,” Rayan said with a smile.
The crane hoisted the platform high into the cloudless blue sky, and Rayan’s eyes were once again drawn to the sign: Maison Résidence Samira Ayari.
Maybe, just maybe, she would be proud of him—for surviving, for making it here.And if pride was a swing too far, perhaps she could settle on forgiveness—the way he had forgiven her.
Mathias took another pull on his cigarette and squinted up at the half-finished masterpiece bearing Rayan’s mother’s name.“Take it in, Rayan.This is your legacy.”
