Dying Star Arc
December 2038
Me and Mohammed used to be great friends. The best of friends. But since we left our hometown back in Palestine, it's become hard to talk with him. We've had disagreements. It isn't like we've never argued before, but we've never had quite as disparaging opinions as we do now. Most of all, he can't accept the relationship that I have with Seine. But I'm going to try and convince him. Because I want to be able to talk to my friend.
"Can I come in?"
Mohammed sighed, and didn't say anything for a time.
"Is it not okay for me to? Are you busy?"
"No, it's fine… I'm just not sure I want to if you're going to look at me like that."
I'm not sure what he meant by that. I don't think that I'm looking at Mohammed in any way different to usual. No, that's a lie. I wish that was true, but I think in reality, I probably have quite a scared look on my face. Because I'm scared of how Mohammed will respond to what I have to say.
"Sorry. There's something I need to talk to you about."
Mohammed continues staring me in the eye for another couple of seconds before he responds with another sigh, "come in then."
Mohammed leads the way into his compartment, leaving it to me to shut the door behind us. The compartment is just as bare as most of the ones here on the Persephone. Seine's compartment is at least twice the size as this one, and I hear that the non-Palestinians have nicer lodgings than us (though that might just be a rumour). There's a single bed up against one wall, a small table beside it. Mohammed has some small possessions lined up on the table, including a photo of some of the family that he left behind, and his spare clothes must be in the table's draws. It isn't much, but it's more than some of us had at home.
Mohammed sits down on his bed. I consider sitting beside him, but then decide to stand instead. Seeing that, Mohammed sighs again, "since when did we become such strangers, Sayyad? I don't think you've ever treated me like this before."
He's right, I realise. I'm acting like a stranger to him. I don't even really understand why. It just no longer seems… like I have the right to treat him as a friend.
"Well, whatever," Mohammed continues when I don't move, "what did you want to talk about then?"
Mohammed asks the question, though I know he must already have a general idea of what I'm here for. What it is that I need to talk to him about.
"I wanted to ask you to reconsider. To hear Seine out, and listen to what she has to say."
"Sayyad, I respect your choice, but I can't do that. I don't have any interest in hearing Ms Montague out. Whatever she tells you, I wouldn't believe a word of it if I was you. Surely you understand that she's using you to get what she wants."
"I agreed to come talk to you about this. Seine hasn't forced me to do anything."
"That just means you're too blind to see that she's manipulating you," Mohammed yells.
"No, Seine wouldn't do that. She isn't that kind of person."
I stare Mohammed down for a time. I'm not sure how long the two of us glared at each other for, but it must have been a while. Because we were able to tell each other so much without words. I think that's something that your only able to do with someone that you know as well as I know Mohammed. We've been friends since we were children, so we don't have to say everything aloud to understand what we're trying to tell each other. I understand that Mohammed stubbornly won't move from his position. And I know that he understands that I won't be moving from mine either.
Mohammed breaks the moment by sighing, shrugging his shoulders as he does so to emphasize, "sorry. I can't. I love you as my friend, but I can't go against my convictions. Not even for you."
"I know," I smile at him, "you wouldn't be the Mohammed that I know if you did."
The two of us laugh, looking at each other's faces. For just a moment, all our arguing and conflict over the past few months feels stupid. It feels idiotic. Why did we feel such a need to fight each other? Weren't we the best of friends? But eventually, we're brought back to the reality of our situation. And I wish that it were different.
"I still want to be friends. I don't want us to fight like this," I say first.
"Yes, that's what I've been trying to say," Mohammed responds.
"But if we can't agree on this-"
"Does it matter if we can't agree on this? Why not just agree to disagree when it comes to Ms Montague? If anyone can be both friends and enemies at the same time; it's the two of us. Right, Sayyad?"
Yes, he's right. You could even say that before all this we were both friends and enemies already. When we were children, Mohammed and I would compete in everything. Running, football, the limited education we had, girls… everything that we had, we were constantly in competition with each other for. Though I think as we grew up that became less and less the case, we still had moments like that as adults. Where we competed with each other. Where we were both friends and enemies.
"I guess you're right," I agree, "if anyone can do that, it would be the two of us."