Chapter Twenty-eight

"The springtime of Lovers has come,

that this dust bowl may become a garden;

the proclamation of heaven has come,

that the bird of the soul may rise in flight."

- Rumi

The next morning, Sayid mentioned to Hurley that he planned to pledge himself publicly to Nadia and that he would not mind if both camps met around the common fire for the pronouncement. That did the trick: the news spread like wildfire. But until the evening fell, the couple went their separate ways, Nadia to Sun's garden, Sayid to his workbench on the beach.

He began to tinker yet again with the radio from the propeller jet; he had no hope of fixing it, but he thought he might salvage another part or two, and it was something to do.

Marcus drew up beside him and asked if he had a moment to speak. Sayid put down the radio and his tools.

The priest reached in underneath his shirt and grasped the bottom of the chain that hung around his neck. Sayid thought he was going to try to give him a crucifix, and he regretted that he would have to refuse the gift; no doubt it was well intended. But at the end of the chain the priest drew up, there dangled instead two wedding bands.

The priest unclasped the chain and slid the bands into his hand, which he extended to Sayid. "Take them to use tonight for you and Nadia. They were mine and my ex-wife's. It's well past time I let them go."

Sayid accepted the offering and examined the simple, unengraved bands. "They are silver," he said.

Marcus looked momentarily offended and muttered, "I was poor then. Well, I suppose I am poor now."

"No," said Sayid. "I did not mean…It is only that it is a happy coincidence. The Koran forbids men from wearing gold jewelry. Not that I often follow the strictures of Islam. But…but I would like to try harder."

"I had no idea about the gold," said the priest. "Perhaps you do not exchange rings at all?"

Sayid shrugged. "We do. Some fundamentalists, yes, consider it a pagan custom, but most Muslims do it." He shook the rings in the hand. "I thank you sincerely."

"What will the ceremony be like?" asked Marcus.

"It is very simple. There is no officiant. We will announce our intentions to marry one another, exchange the rings. That is all."

Marcus nodded. "Well, I will leave you to your work."

Before he turned, Sayid asked, "Are you sure you want to give these to me? Are you sure you will not be needing them yourself one day?"

Marcus smiled. "If that day should come, I'm quite sure Claire won't want my ex-wife's wedding ring. I'll make something."

Sayid placed the rings in his pocket and smiled in return. "If ever you decide to, inform me. I can help you fashion something. I am good with my hands."

Shortly after the priest left, another visitor strolled by. It clearly hadn't taken Hurley long to talk. Libby congratulated Sayid on his impending nuptials. Standing beside his workbench but not presuming to sit, she said, "So there was something more to our conversation that day. I wondered at how invested you seemed."

"If you are implying that I was having an affair—"

"No, no," she hastened to interrupt him. "I only meant…you loved her even then, didn't you?"

"I have loved her for many years."

"Why then did you defend Nasser?"

He put down the radio he was working on and looked at her quizzically. "I did not defend Nasser."

"You defended her decision to stay with him," Libby replied.

He winced. "It was her choice then. I do not have the inclination to tell you in any detail why I understood it or why I respected her for hoping in a seemingly irredimable man. Suffice it to say I was once such a man myself, and she hoped in me, and she changed me. She could not change Nasser, and at length she accepted that. But she had to hope—for a long time she had to hope—because that is who she is."

Libby nodded gently, congratulated him again, and moved on.

Ana Lucia was the next to interrupt his solitude. She had a light smile on her face. Not even the trace of a sneer remained. "I knew you two were friends," she said, "but I never guessed you loved her."

Sayid met her eyes calmly. The tension that had so long persisted between them had largely faded now. There would perhaps always be a remnant of the past to hang like a shroud above them, but they could speak more easily now.

"Anyway," Ana continued in the face of his silence, "I wanted to say I'm glad you have a chance…you know…to find happiness again. To find what I took from you." She put her hands in her back pockets and looked down at the sand. The posture was still defensive, but it was simultaneously conciliatory. The combination looked odd.

"Thank you," Sayid replied simply, and then when Ana turned to leave, he said, "I hope you, too, find peace and comfort one day."

Ana didn't respond as she made her way across the sand. Sayid resumed his work, which continued to be disrupted here and there by a congratulatory survivor. He began to wish he had not empowered Hurley to spread the news…but it would be satisfying to have his fellow survivors witness his union to Nadia.