Later that day, Sister Sarah came and comforted me. In the dormitory, I sat on my bed. She said, "Oh dear, what has troubled my cute daughter?"
I, pretending to be strong, said humbly, "Nothing, Sister Sarah."
She looked at me, and surely, I didn't want to talk about it.
She held my hands and said, "Dear, what happened today, you didn't deserve it."
I looked at her—maybe something in her voice touched my soul. Even without realising, tears flowed out of my eyes.
She opened her hands—something she always did for me when she wanted a hug.
She said, "Come here, dear."
I hesitated, fearing I may harm her, for Juliet said I am a terrorist.
Sister Sarah, a little bit uncomfortable, asked, "What's wrong, Salma?"
Now that she asked, I had to answer according to her teaching. Scared, I asked,
"Sister Sarah… am I an Arab?"
Sister Sarah, with a smile, cut me short and replied, "Yes, Salma, you are an Arab—but a special Arab. You are a Christian."
Curiously, I asked, "Sister Sarah… are Arabs not Christians?"
She smiled and said, "I would have said so if I didn't go for the holy pilgrimage in Israel. So yes, there are some Christians and some Muslims—just like us. Some English are Christians, and some are Muslims."
She then laughed and said, "But the percentage differs."
"So Salma," she continued, "don't let the sins of the few, funded by the West, determine who you are. Because I have seen the goodness of your people in Jerusalem."
She caught my hands and said, "A little girl who was starving and had a biscuit shared it with me. She would have run away seeing me in nun clothes—but no, she didn't, because they respect all religions, and so they don't hate us. The only issue that causes all these misunderstandings—from their religion to their way of life—is the language barrier."
She said, "Dear, don't let Julie's words ruin your beautiful life, for clearly, she's been misled."
Although Sister Sarah tried her best, I didn't believe her. For it seemed she wanted to make me feel good about my race. I instead believed Juliet's words.
This made me isolate myself from the rest, because their perspective would never change about me now. The sisters tried their best to talk with the other children, but when children choose to believe in one thing, there isn't any other option to talk them out of it.
Juliet did her part in it. I even asked myself—should I also do my part? Since I am hated, I should give them a solid reason to hate me.
But deep down, that's not me. I would never hurt anyone.
So isolation became my best option.
But what's funny is that my heart didn't hate Juliet—for I believed no one is to be hated for speaking the truth. But… was what she said the truth? I leave it to God to judge.
For at least, I slept and ate for free—even had education for free. What more should I want?
Sister Sarah always says, "The heart at rest always sees a feat in everything."
My days now became quieter than before. Since I had no friends, the Scriptures became my friend—for at least, it always gave me a reason to endure that environment.
When I reached twelve years, there were no more options for my adoption—because children above eleven don't get adopted.
So, like everyone else, I had to spend my years in this hell of a place till I reached eighteen—then I would join the holy journey of a church servant.
With hope on the way, my future years would be much easier—because Juliet had already turned eighteen.
It's a pity. Although she's one of a kind, she was never adopted—and it's clear, it's due to her manners.
Luckily, that day of her birthday, I was cleaning Sister Sarah's office when Juliet was called in with the other sisters.
From their looks, nobody liked her.
And that was a nightmare for me—to have the sisters not like me.
All the sisters complimented me, "Look at our cutie, who can believe she has grown so much!"
Another even said, "Whenever I see you, it indeed shows our hard work hasn't gone into waste."
I then excused myself outside the office—but remained at the door.
Sister Sarah told Juliet, "Have a seat."
Then one of the sisters said, "Finally Juliet, who would imagine—you would go away from here!"
Sister Sarah cleared her throat to cut the other sister short and said,
"Juliet, now you are an adult by law. You are free to move out—or join the honorable journey of becoming a sister."
Juliet said to them, "Never."
Sister Sarah answered, "If you move out, you have nowhere to go. But if you join the sisters, you still have a home."
Juliet replied, "I always had a home in the US."
Sister Sarah, her tone not happy, said, "Is that so? Then why are you here?"
Juliet replied, feeling uneasy, "It's complicated."
Sister Sarah seemed fed up with her and replied frankly,
"No, dear, it's not. It's just that your mother's irresponsibility—and your rotten behaviour and manners—ended you here."
Juliet, hearing those words from the sister, shed tears. But as always, she said her mind:
"Yes, you're true. But had the Arabs not killed my father in Afghanistan, my mother wouldn't have married her English guy and moved here."
Sister Sarah said, "No, dear—it's clearly your mother and her husband want nothing to do with you."
Juliet got out of there with mixed feelings of anger and bitterness. She slammed the door after her.
But those angers faded when she saw me outside the door—and from her looks, she knew I heard everything.
I told her, "I'm sorry for your father."
At least, she needed that.
She rubbed her tears and walked away.
While inside, Sister Sarah, complimenting herself, said,
"This is the least I can do for our baby. Had I not feared God, I would have thrown her out of here—when she spread terror among the children back then."
A sister said, "Because of her, now Salma isn't happy—and from the looks of her eyes, you would know she no longer has the love of her home."
Sister Sarah said, "Yes, I also noticed that. If Salma continues to stay here, she will fall apart."
Hearing them talk their minds, I felt shy to stand there—and immediately walked away.
Juliet left St Mary's with no one waving at her—because all her friends had been adopted, and the sisters just didn't like her.
By the window, I stood looking at her going—and waved at her.
But likely, she didn't see me.
But indeed, the sisters meant every word they said.
Only after months, Sister Sarah came into my room and started packing my belongings.
As usual, I was reading by the bed. And seeing her busy, I asked,
"Sister, is there a place I'm going?"
Excitedly, she said, "Yes, dear. You will go to St Andrews."
I was excited and said, "Is it because St Andrews is among the best monastery?"
Sister Sarah told me, "Due to your humble behaviour and wisdom in the Scripture, you're given to the Mother Superior of St Andrews as a guide—due to her unexpected blindness."
Sister Sarah said, holding my hands,
"Mother Superior Mostel is my mentor—and she is very good. I am very assured that you will be in good hands. That's why I didn't hesitate to give you."
I hugged her and said, "Anything you choose on my behalf is for my own good."
Hearing that, tears fell from her eyes.
"That, my baby… you are finally leaving me."
I rubbed her tears and said, "No I'm not. I will always come back to St Mary's—it's my home."
She smiled.
Maybe my words touched her.
When the car arrived, the sisters came outside to bid me farewell.
And Sister Sarah gave me a pocket Bible, saying,
"Keep it, dear. For all along, it were these words that kept you from falling, my strong girl."
I entered into the car…
As I was exiting—Juliet, shabby, unrecognisable—entered.