Sitting on the second-floor balcony of the small wooden cottage I have been living at for the last four years, I spun the golden apple cider in my slender drinking glass. I liked how the candlelight glimmered against the bubbles fizzing up to the surface of the cider. I had thrown on a sweater and thick pants, and I had tugged on a knit hat over my hijab, wanting to keep my whole body warm. The downside to sitting on the balcony to enjoy a pleasant drink was the cold breeze that always raced across the French hillsides. Why was the wind in such a hurry?
However, on clear nights like this, the upside was that I could look up and bask in the glorious stars and, tonight, the full moon.
Space gave me a sense of infinity. Earth as we knew it could only exist temporarily, and beyond the terrestrial, there was more.
Maybe we wouldn't find life outside of Earth, but to me, the massive nature of our universe proved the existence of Allah, of heaven, of more than what was around me. And having lost so many people who used to be present in my life, I truly needed something, or someone, more.
When my eyes turned down toward the grassy fields below, I could see large UV lamps lighting up the crops, which grew abundantly in the countryside's fertile soil. The lights on these "new farms" stretched for miles and miles, purplish-pink against greens ... though plants had noticeably paled after the first few months of the Cloud's presence between us and the sun. It saddened me how the color green was gradually lessening in nature. But I knew in my heart that this was all meant to be. And I suspected the Cloud, which so many people demonized here in Europe, served a purpose beyond our current understanding.
In my optimism, I chose to believe the Cloud was protecting us from something. Maybe from the sun? Like deadly solar flares or plasma beams. I lacked a background in astronomy, but I did not doubt that we were safer in the dark.
Did my parents feel the same back in Morocco? I had come here to the countryside from a densely populated city, Casablanca, where I was born. There, I had felt nothing but the sun on my tanned skin. I had watched heat bounce off the roads, making people and animals and buildings ripple in my vision.
What I could see now contrasted sharply with my life before the Cloud. I came here when I was sixteen, on a study abroad scholarship. Before I could go home, the Cloud floated over the daytime sky. All planes had to be shut down, except for at night. Essentially, airplanes were to follow the night and steer clear of the day, and if they had not landed by the time the Cloud floated back into the sky, whole flights could be lost, along with all their passengers. I was afraid of this happening to me, and since I could still send letters to Morocco, I didn't feel homesick enough to push through my fear and fly home.
Tonight, despite all the beauty outside and the delicious relaxation of my muscles after a long day of laboring out in the fields, I felt distraught.
It had been a few months since I last received a letter from home. I feared for my parents, and I was slowly accepting the possibility that I had become an orphan.
As much as I loved my mother and father, I had become accustomed to making decisions without them. While I contemplated their potential thoughts and opinions whenever I made a major decision—that's not to say that I had too many major decisions to make over the years—I generally acted on my own accord, doing what felt right to me and what fell in line with my morals.
"Bismillah," I said, then took a sip of the apple cider. The sweet pinch of the juice made my mouth salivate. It coolly slipped down my throat, and I went in for another taste.
The stars twinkled above. I leaned back in my floral-cushioned rocking chair and raised my glass to the moon. Oh, how I longed to experience more than farming and long, lonely nights in France. An important decision had been lingering in my mind for the last two years, and that possible course of action would certainly change my life.
I wanted to get married.
While I was originally planning to find a husband with my parents' help, the Cloud made doing so impossible. So, I asked my closest friend here in France, my roommate Noelle, to find a religious man who would get along well with me and who, like myself, wanted to start a family straight away.
I set my glass down and placed my hands on my lap, closing my eyes as another cold breeze danced across the land. I could hear people singing out in the field. Nighttime harvesters. They liked to take advantage of the natural brightness these late hours supplied.
Silently I thought, I'm ready to be a mother. I'm ready to become a man's wife. I'm ready to embrace that role, granted as a woman who will balance my family and career.
And what other driving force was there, if not the will of Allah, then the order my religion established for its followers? Other religions functioned similarly, like Christianity, placing emphasis on multiplying as a family, and fulfilling one's duty to one's spouse as well as to God. My life now was still driven by routine and obligation. I needed to work out in the field, as this enabled me to pay the monthly rent and buy clothes and food, and small necessities. I needed to pray multiple times a day, so I carried a compass to point me in the right direction. But that hole within me where I assumed a man would go, I had little to fill it with other than short outings with Noelle, reading beside my dim bedside lamp, praying, cleaning, washing, or daydreaming.
I heard the bedroom door creak open. Glancing toward it while still seated serenely on the balcony, I saw Noelle step inside with a handsome man whose dark skin and eyes were complemented by a blue shirt beneath a white and gold-striped long-sleeved button-up, and long off-white slacks. I stood up to greet them, smiling excitedly, yet I also felt nervous.
Before this first meeting, Noelle had described Leo Garnier as, "a man who knows the world, but he hasn't fallen for its traps." That description had struck my interest. I wanted a man who could resist temptation even when it appeared in front of him and wiggled in his face.
Noelle hugged me, and when she stepped back, she introduced me formally to Leo. "And Leo, this is Samira. My best friend—so don't break her heart. If you talk alone, I think you'll find yourselves falling in love." Winking at me, then nudging Leo's shoulder with her hand, she said, "I'm going downstairs for a drink. I'll be back to check on you in five-ish minutes."
"Thanks, Noelle," I said, genuinely grateful that she had taken on the role of match-maker. I didn't have it in my heart to request that she stay longer. She had already done so much for me.
Running a hand over his shaved head, Leo wore a pensive look on his face, the features of which were round in his nose and eyes and chin and cheeks. Not a single edge stood out to me, yet I still had to hide a small tremble in my fingers, which I tucked under my arms. Rarely did I find myself standing alone in a room with a man, and no matter how polite and considerate he was, I still found my heart racing.
After a few seconds, the pensive look on Leo's face fell, replaced by a friendly, white-toothed smile and a brilliant shine in his eyes. His hand left his head and he reached out to me in greeting. "Nice to meet you, Samira."
We shook hands. I hoped that my tremble went unnoticed, and based on how comfortable he seemed, I thought that it had.
"Nice to meet you too, Leo," I said, matching his soft tone. I wondered if he found me attractive in my warm attire—I hadn't made an effort to look less than comfortable—just as I found his casual garb to neither hurt nor aid his handsomeness. My heart slowed a bit. Noelle knew my taste in men well, and she had found someone who fit my dreams in looks. However, would he match my intellectual fantasy? There was only one way for me to find out.
"Come," I said, gesturing my hand toward the balcony. "Let's sit outside if you won't be too cold."
"I would love to." He followed me out onto the balcony.
I smiled down at the candle on the table, still burning since it sat safely in a glass lantern.
We both took a chair and faced each other. Our eyes flickered from our date to the stars.
"Do you like to stargaze?" Leo asked me, his voice smooth as silk in my eyes.
I nodded and returned the question. He replied with a whimsical air.
"I would like to live in the stars one day. I can't get enough of them."
"You would get lonely if you lived in outer space."
His gaze met mine, and he answered my critique flirtatiously: "Not if someone lived there with me."
Blushing slightly, I rested my elbows on the table between us. "What are you looking for, in love? In life?"
He beamed at the question, eager to answer it. "I'm looking for companionship. Someone beautiful inside and out, who will support me, and be with me until the end." Briefly, his eyes drifted back up toward the sky. "And I want a wife who will be the mother to my children. I want someone who values family as much as I do."
"Our dreams are similar, then." I noticed that my cider glass still sat on the table. I picked it up, took a sip, then gestured it toward him. "Would you like me to get you apple cider, Leo?" I asked.
He shook his head. "That's all right. I'm not thirsty."
We heard a whistling sound from above.
Startled, we turned out faces toward the sky and saw a burning white light shooting down straight at us.
We tried to get off our chairs and inside, but something invisible smacked us down onto the balcony floor, knocking the wind from our lungs.
The light approached faster and faster until it stole our senses away.