She stared at the cup of black bitterness. A spoonful of sugar would make the medicine go down, but there didn’t seem to be any around.
“Yasmin is the center’s receptionist and has been with us for three years. She knows everything there is to know, and if you cannot find me, she is the person to see.”
Yasmin blushed and tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear. Her naturally tan skin, fine bone structure, and a rich-toned headscarf emphasized a warmth about her.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Amber attempted a smile.
“You two can get better acquainted later.” Mila tilted her chin toward Amber with a smirk. “Maybe after I’m done giving this poor girl’s brain a good whirl.”
Did she just say… Amber shook her head. The lack of sleep had her hearing things. “Excuse me?”
Mila’s grin widened. “I am going to make your head spin like a toy top.”
It already was. “I’m not one to complain, but that doesn’t sound at all pleasant.”
Mila laughed, then marched down a narrow hall and took a left. “If you can keep up, it won’t be as dizzying,” she called behind her.
If her brain had command of her muscles, maybe she could. As it was, all her power went to not slumping to the floor and dozing off on the spot.
“That means you should follow her.” Yasmin pointed.
If only I could.Stumbling back across the street to the dorm room she’d crashed in the night before sounded like a much better option. Just a little more sleep, then she could function like a human.
A desk drawer slid open, and then two sugar packets skittered across the counter. The movement caught Amber’s unfocused attention, and her gaze rose to Yasmin’s.
The woman’s lips quirked, a knowing sparkle in her dark eyes. “Maybe this will help?”
Amber grabbed the packets, ripped them open, and dumped the contents into the coffee mug. “Bless you.” She clutched the handle and made a circular motion with the mug, swirling the liquid inside. With a deep breath, she downed the coffee in a single gulp.
Her body convulsed against the bitter taste. Not exactly a caramel Frappuccino, but now, at least, there was something in her system that would kickstart her brain.
“You will have questions after Mila is done with you.” Yasmin was kind enough to hold in her laughter, though her twitching cheeks betrayed her. “Come and see me, and I will answer them all for you.”
“Thank you.”
Yasmin made a shooing motion with her hands. “Now go.”
It felt weird, meandering through a new building alone. Hopefully she wouldn’t take a wrong turn somewhere and get lost. After taking the same left Mila had, Amber walked down a long hallway, cubicles partitioning off private workspaces. Each housed filing cabinets and computers as well as other things a person would expect in an office space. At the end of the corridor, she reached what looked like a rec room. A ping pong table stood in the center with various other types of activities lining the walls. Arts and craft supplies. Custom-built shelving filled with books. Building blocks. Stacks of games.
“For this part, you might want to sit.” Mila spoke from the other side of the room and pointed to a fold-out chair opposite her.
Amber sat, the coldness of the metal seeping through her jeans. She sucked in a quick breath but let it out with something like relief. The jolt had worked like a defibrillator, jerking her body to awareness.
She’d been to a few orientations before. School. Work. Some were like a zero-entry pool where she could slowly immerse herself in the expectations. Get a feel for what was going on and adjust in comfortable steps. Others were a throw-you-in-the-deep-end kind of experience. Mila was definitely a sink-or-swim type of director.
“I don’t know your level of knowledge on the refugee state or Germany’s participation in helping those fleeing their countries. Nor do I have the time for you to tell me your understanding, me to tell you how wrong you are, and then to re-educate you.” She cleared her throat, but the action didn’t hide the tilt of her lips. “Therefore, I am going to give you a quick explanation of what has happened in Syria for the last seven years, as most of those who come to us seeking asylum are from that region. Also, a short explanation of on my homeland’s generosity and what we do here at the Excellency Center. Ready?”
Amber nodded. “I’m holding on to my hat.”
Mila eyed Amber’s head with a frown. “You are not wearing a hat.”
This time it was Amber’s turn to grin. Yep. She was catching up to the jet lag now. “American figure of speech.”
Mila clucked her tongue and muttered something under her breath in German. She squared her shoulders before starting her rapid-fire speech. “The civil war in Syria started with peaceful protest demonstrations. From the very beginning, the president of Syria, Bashar al-Assad, has only had one goal—staying in power. No different from any leader, I presume, but Assad has been prepared to do almost anything to achieve that goal. Bombings. Chemical warfare. Massacres. Nothing is tooabscheulich—wicked, horrible—for Assad if it will keep him in power.”
Mila shifted in her seat, crossing her long legs. “But if it were the Syrians only fighting between themselves, this war may have ended a long time before. Instead, the land of Syria has become an international game board, its players those with global control. Russia, Turkey, Israel, Islamic State jihadist groups, the United States. And while these groups battle from the comfort of their own countries, innocent Syrians are suffering. Dying. Trying to find a way to survive and save their children.”
Amber fidgeted with the hem of her mustard-colored cardigan, making a mental note to do more research on global events. It wasn’t that she was uninformed; she knew what went on in the rest of the world.
