When the sun rose the next day, Doaa saw that the night had taken at least half of the survivors. Corpses were floating all around her, facedown, blue and bloated. Doaa recognized some of them, but not from the group of initial survivors. She realized that they were the people who had drowned when the boat first sank, and their bodies must now have risen to the surface. The people had drowned before her eyes and throughout the night had disappeared their lungs having taken in too much water instead of air, causing their bodies to become heavy and sink. Many of the bodies that now floated in the water had their hands clutched to their chests as if they were cold. Some of the remaining survivors who had made it through the night without life jackets desperately resorted to hanging on to the corpses to keep afloat.
Doaa choked on the stench from the dead. When Bassem awoke and observed the scene around them, he began apologizing again. But this time, Doaa could hear resignation in his voice as if he had given up hope that they would survive. It sounded to Doaa as if his apologies were actually Bassem saying good-bye.
“Don’t worry,” Doaa assured Bassem, feeling her love for him well up in her chest. She, too, had come to accept that they might not make it much longer. “This is our fate.”
A man nearby must have noticed Doaa and Bassem’s spirits flagging. He yelled over to Bassem, “Keep moving or your body will go stiff!” So Bassem let go of the ring and swam off for a few minutes, looking around for something to bring Doaa—a bottle of water to moisten their parched mouths, or a box of juice to combat the dizziness that overwhelmed them both. But there was nothing but endless sea, bobbing heads, and bits of wood. He returned to Doaa, shaking his head. The sun was getting hot, which warmed their bodies but made them thirstier. Bassem was sick from all the salt water he had swallowed, so Doaa stuck her fingers down his throat to help him throw it up. Afterward, Bassem once again crossed his arms over the side of Doaa’s inflatable ring and laid his head on them to rest.
A small group of survivors gathered around the couple, treading water. Some, probably delirious, were saying things that made no sense. One man said, “There is a café nearby, go get us tea!” Amid the cacophony, Bassem looked directly at Doaa, raised his voice loud enough so that everyone could hear, and solemnly declared, “I love you more than anyone I have ever known. I’m sorry I let you down. I only wanted what was best for you.” Doaa saw that his eyes were feverish, and he stared into her eyes as if it was the last time he would ever see them. He spoke with an urgency she hadn’t heard since he’d threatened to go back to Syria if she wouldn’t agree to marry him. It was as if getting the words out was the most important thing he’d ever done. “It was my job to take care of you,” he said, “and I failed. I wanted us to have a new life together. I wanted the best for you. Forgive me before I die, my love.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Doaa told him, through sobs. “We will be together always, in life and in death.” She pleaded with him to hold on, telling him over and over that he was not to blame.
As she reached over to stroke his cheek, she noticed an older man swimming toward them, clutching a small baby on his shoulder. He held on to a water canister with his other hand, kicking his legs hard to get closer to them. When he reached them, he looked at Doaa with pleading eyes and said, “I’m exhausted. Could you please hold on to Malak for a while?” The baby was wearing pink pajamas, had two small teeth, and was crying. Doaa thought the baby looked just like what the name Malak meant—“angel.” The man explained that he was her grandfather. He was a fisherman from Gaza, and they had left to escape the latest Israeli bombardment. Twenty-seven members of their family had been on the boat, and all the others had drowned. “We are the only two who survived. Please keep this girl with you,” he begged. “She is only nine months old. Look after her. Consider her part of you. My life is over.”
Doaa reached for Malak and settled her on her chest, resting the baby’s cheek on the Quran that still lay next to Doaa’s heart. At her touch Malak relaxed and stopped crying, and Doaa immediately took comfort in having the child’s body next to hers.
Malak’s grandfather touched Malak’s face. “My little angel, what did you do to deserve this? Poor thing. Good-bye, little one, forgive me, I am going to die.” He then swam off. Doaa and Bassem focused their attention on the small child. The young life seemed to rally Bassem for a little while as he stroked Malak’s soft, cold cheeks. Moments later, Malak’s grandfather returned, checking on her, and, seeing she was in good care, said good-bye again. The next time they looked in his direction, they saw him floating facedown in the sea just ten meters away.
Malak was shivering. Her lips were blue and cracked. Doaa dipped her finger in the sea and gently wet them. She thought that her own spit would be better to use, so the child wouldn’t lick the salt, but Doaa had no moisture to gather from her mouth. She had heard somewhere that rubbing a person’s veins along the wrists keeps the person warm, so she tried that and began to sing songs that her mother had sung to her as a baby.
Bassem also was getting lulled to sleep by Doaa’s singing, and she knew that she had to keep him awake or he might just slip away from her. Doaa clapped her hands at the sides of his head to rouse him.
“I’m scared, Bassem,” she told him, leaning close to his ear, “please don’t leave me alone here in the middle of the sea! Hang on just a little longer and we will be in Europe together.”