A Missing Peace by Beth Fred

as I attempted to stand again. She wrapped my arms around her waist. “It’s okay. Lean on me.” Her voice so soothing, I almost forgot about the pain.
    Mirriam helped me get comfortable on the couch and sat down beside me. “Is that your father?” She turned her head toward a picture of me with my parents hanging over the fireplace.
    â€œYeah.”
    She let out a little laugh. “As many times as I’ve been in this room, I’ve never noticed that picture.” She shook her head. “He looks really familiar.”
    â€œProbably because he looks like me.”
    â€œMaybe,” she said unconvinced.
    â€œHey, there’s a shoebox under my bed. Can you get it for me? I want to show you some things.”
    â€œSure. Where’s your room?”
    â€œUpstairs. Last door on your left.”
    A few minutes later, Mirriam returned with my box. It wasn’t much, some of his awards, some of mine, and some old pictures. I never talked about my dad much, other than mentioning him in passing, but I knew Mirriam understood. The first thing I took out of the box was a picture of him in cammies.
    Mirriam gasped. She grabbed the picture from my hand, stared it down, and screamed. She trailed her eyes from the picture of my dad in his helmet and cammies with his gun to the picture on the wall. She gasped for air, struggling to breathe. Her movements were uncontrolled.
    Seeing anyone like this would be scary, but for Mirriam to be this out of control I thought she was having a seizure. She fell off the couch screaming, “Oh my God!”
    â€œAre you okay?”
    She still clutched the photograph. “It’s your dad. Oh my God!”
    I fought through the pain and tried to move myself off the couch. I needed to get her off of the floor. She would do the same for me, but I couldn’t stand up. We had been out too long today. My legs were like mush from being crammed in the car.
    â€œM, it’s okay. Sweetheart, calm down. You’re okay.” I canted it like a mantra, but it made no difference.
    Ten minutes passed before Mirriam finally stood. She wasn’t steady on her feet, but at least she was vertical. “I should go,” she called, running out the door.

Chapter 19
    Mirriam
    The room spun. Twisted and turned and spun. The air was being squeezed out of me, and I fought for it. Grasped at it to keep it inside of me. Keep air in my lungs. Keep breathing.
    The world—my world—had gone berserk.
    At some point, I became aware that I was flopping around on the floor.
    Some part of me knew I was on the floor in Caleb’s house. I kept telling myself, it’s over. It’s already done. You can’t change it, but it can’t hurt you. You survived. It didn’t matter though, because most of me was being pulled somewhere else. Another place. Another time.
    I’d left so fast I didn’t remember saying goodbye. I ran to my house and threw myself on my bed. Thank God no one was home. I couldn’t deal with anyone.
    I was back in Iraq.
    â€œHow did you even get here?” Baba asked.
    I stared down at the cold floor. “I rode with some workers.”
    â€œMirriam, are you crazy? Do you know what’s going on out there? Does your mother even know you’re here? They’re probably looking for you. If your brother gets hurt looking for you…”
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    â€œWhat’s so important you had to truck to Baghdad?”
    That was when it happened. A violent boom rang through the air. Followed by another and another. Bang! Bang! Each noise popped like fireworks, but in Baghdad it was never fireworks.
    â€œGod have mercy. What kind of sick people bomb a hospital?” Baba said under his breath. Then to me he said, “I should be taking care of patients, and I can’t now. You don’t ever do this again.”
    He took my hand, and we ran out of his office. He dragged me along at first,