A beautiful flower. almeen bano

for Dr. Johnson.

      A thought of concern occurred to me. I was a Jew in a predominantly Muslim country. I couldn't help but wonder if the refugees would accept me. However, the immediate concern at that moment was Dr. Johnson. It struck me as foolish that I hadn't brought a photo of him, and I wished for a sign or banner with my name, as the alternative would have been quite awkward— having to call him and ask him to identify himself. After all, I needed to uphold my father's image.

      “Joe!” a robust voice called out from my left. I turned to see Dr. Johnson, who waved from the midst of the crowd. He was easy to spot: an African American, tall like me. I noticed he didn’t have a banner with my name, suggesting that my father had shared my pictures with him.

      I approached the man I hoped to be, Dr. Johnson, with a practiced smile. Internally, I was a bundle of nerves, praying he was the one I sought. If not, I hoped he would be here soon. As we drew closer, I offered my hand in anticipation of a handshake. Yet Dr. Johnson, it seemed, preferred a warmer welcome, and thus, we stumbled into an embrace.

      “It’s a pleasure to meet and see you, Joe Gold,” with an enthusiastic smile. “You look like your father did thirty years ago.”

      I replied, “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Dr. Johnson,” though my tone revealed my shyness.

      Dr. Johnson looked at me thoughtfully. “You’ve grown so much now. How old are you? Twenty? Twenty-two?”

      “Twenty-four,” I admitted, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

      “Twenty-four?!”

      Dr. Johnson looked at me thoughtfully as if trying to discern my age.

      “Has it really been this long? I should pay America a visit. The last time I saw you was when you were four years old. I don't think you'd remember me, but I remember you well. I was in the hospital when you were delivered.”

      So, Dr. Johnson genuinely had a close relationship with my father, and I may have met the man. Strangely, his name had never been mentioned, but then again, Dad had never been one for gossip.

      Dr. Johnson's vibrant energy and optimism seemed out of place for someone who had been and still was a surgeon in a country surrounded by war. He was the same age as my dad, in his fifties, and looked in good shape.

      “I hope you are prepared for the journey ahead, Mr. Joseph Gold,” he teased as he began heading to his car, pulling half of my luggage.

      “Yes, sir. I’m really excited about this internship opportunity,” I said as I followed him.

      “Oh no, no. I was talking about the drive. It's a two-hour drive to the camp even though it’s only fifty miles.”

      A two-hour drive after a ten-hour flight? This had to be some form of punishment. I could barely keep my eyes open.

      “And as far as the internship is concerned,”– he paused, his lips curving into an enigmatic smile— “our patients desperately need us. Just make sure you're motivated enough to help and keep them living.”

      I gulped nervously and replied, “Yes, Dr. Johnson.” We headed to his car and began the two-hour ride.

      “By the way, you don’t have to call me Dr. Johnson all the time. You can call me Dr. J.”

      “OK.” I settled into my seat to endure the torment of the ride to the camp; I couldn't help but feel a growing interest in Dr. Johnson's connection with my father.

      “So, you and Dad are close?”

      “We were once inseparable, but the tides of time and space have pulled us apart. In our hearts, we remain best friends despite the rarity of our meetings.” His smile softened as he reminisced, “Our paths crossed in college, and frankly, my initial impression of him was less than favorable. He was reserved, which I mistook for arrogance. His penchant for witty retorts was, I’ll confess, somewhat irksome. Yet, his intellect was undeniable. He was always buried in his studies; debating him was an exercise in futility. Our first encounter? A trivial quarrel over bacteria. It was an inconsequential clash, but your father was a wellspring of knowledge. His most memorable feat, however, was compelling me to end things with my then-girlfriend.”

      “Really? How?”

      “That’s a long story I prefer not to share right now. Perhaps one day I will.”

      “Well, that's terrible of him.”

      “Not really. If it weren't for him, I'd have never met Mika. She's my wife, and you will meet her soon.” Dr. Johnson's smile grew warmer. “He introduced the two of us and, it seems, put in a good word for me, which I only found out years later through Mika. I don't know if this was his way of apologizing or if he genuinely believed I was the right match for her. He held Mika in high regard, partly because she was a nurse working for him. He treated her like a sister. So, I think he truly trusted me, even if I believe he was the reason behind my breakup.”

      Maybe my dad was the reason for my breakup, although I seriously doubted that.

      Dr. J’s willingness to make the long trip from the camp to pick me up showed the depth of their friendship. It reinforced my decision to spend most of my time at the camp for my father's sake.

      “Is he still as stubborn as he was?” Dr. J inquired.

      “I'd say he's even more stubborn now, especially with me,” I chuckled.

      “Just a month ago, he called me out of the blue with an unusual request. He wanted me to arrange for his only son to come here for an internship. I had a hard time believing it. I tried to convince him that it wasn't right, that a refugee camp in Jordan might be too depressing for a New Yorker, but he is, as you mentioned, quite stubborn. I owed him a great deal, and he is usually right about things, so I agreed.”

      I fell silent, still unable to fathom my father's true intentions, but I had resolved not to question his judgment and refrained from asking Dr. J for more details, even though my curiosity burned within me.

      “But don’t worry much, Joe. You will be all right here. Sure, you are not in the place you imagined you would be, but trust me, for the career that awaits you, this will be a good experience for you. By the way, did you sleep on your flight?”

      “I would not regard it as sleep. I just closed my eyes for an hour.”

      “Well, then, what did you do for ten hours? Please don't tell me you stayed awake just because you found yourself sitting next to an attractive young woman,”

      I felt a slight blush creeping into my cheeks. “Oh, no, not at all. Unfortunately, I was seated beside a tall, heavy man and a woman with a baby who cried nonstop.”

      “I wonder, who cried more, the woman or the baby?”

      His humor might not have been of the highest caliber, but it felt genuine and comforting after a long flight.

      “Anyways, I’ll show you your room once we reach camp. You can take a shower and refresh a bit, and then I will take you to meet some doctors,”

      “Can't that wait? I haven't slept in a while and feel quite worn out.”

      Without hesitation, he dismissed my plea, stating, "No chance."

      His swift refusal took me aback.

      “Why? I’m exhausted. Surely, a few hours won’t make much difference. I intend to work hard, do everything you ask, and learn as much as possible.”

      “I’m sorry for your discomfort, but I have already scheduled an introductory meeting with a group of doctors and nurses you will be working with. They are giving up their free time to meet with you. So, again, I'm sorry, but doctors who work with me are often more exhausted than you.”

      “Understood.”

      “We have ninety minutes left in our journey. How about you take a nap during the ride? I will wake you up when we arrive. Either that or, if you prefer some company, we could chat while listening to some classical Arabic music, with maybe a Taylor Swift song in there somewhere.”

      “I think I’d better take a nap.”