“Have you figured out what you’re doing over the summer?” Jennifer asks.

“I’ve decided to delay medical school admissions for a year.”

“You’re serious about doing a gap year? Will you join Isabelle in China?”

“Definitely not. Do you promise you won’t say anything to anyone else?”

“Why’s this another secret? What’s so big you can’t tell the other princesses?”

 “I’ve applied to UNESCO. They’re opening up a new resettlement camp for Syrian refugees in Jordan. You don’t get paid, you get a stipend to cover costs. I don’t want to say anything until I know for sure. If I spoke Spanish, I would do a mission in South America. But with my Arabic, Syrian Arabic at that, I feel like I should be helping out.”

“You don’t want to help out in the Palestinian areas?” she questions.

“Now that would go over real well. Hamas is a fundamentalist terrorist organization; they’re pushing out all their Christians. I’m Jewish, my Christian family lives in Haifa and they’re loyal to Israel.”

“Didn’t the Syrians throw out their Jews?”

“You are right on that. My grandmother was forced to leave as a teenager. Her family had always been there. My grandparents met in Israel. But the people of Syria, they’re caught in the middle of hell. ISIS on one side, Assad on another side, Russia and Iran are egging them on, along with a number of small groups in between. These people have escaped from their homes being bombed and their families being killed. They have nothing and no one. I feel like I have so much. If I can do something to help, it would be worthwhile.”

“But Olivia, it’s dangerous over there. And the women, don’t they have to wear head scarfs?”

“Over there head scarfs are practical. It’s so hot and dusty you want to keep your head covered.”

“Yeah, but the danger, every week you hear about a new terrorist group. You don’t want to come into contact with Islamic terrorists like the ISIS or Al Qaeda.”

“Jordan isn’t that bad. They’re relatively stable,” I explain.

“Until the Arab spring I thought Syria was one of the more stable countries,” she replies.

“The Syrian war has everything to do with Assad’s terrible management of the drought. Abdullah II of Jordan is a much better leader.”

“Drought?”

“About ten years ago the Middle East had a big drought. The farmers ran out of water. Assad never provided his people with help or services. When the farms failed, the farmers migrated to the cities. Assad failed to provide the cities with the additional services they so desperately needed. This pissed off both the city people and the farmers. The only thing Assad did was send in his troops. Assad’s failure to manage a crisis is what caused the Syrian war.”

“I had no idea. But why is this your issue?”

“Jennifer if I don’t help, who will? I’m tired of living my privileged life while there’re so many people who need so much.”

“Altruistic and idealistic, don’t they make fun of rich people who try to help?”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.”

“When will you know if you’re going?”

“A couple of days ago I had a phone conversation with a native Syrian speaker. I guess they didn’t think an American growing up in the Upper East Side of Manhattan could actually speak Arabic. Talking with Conner has paid off. My accent has always been good, but now my vocabulary and fluency is great.”

“Let me get this. Your plan is to take off and live in some resettlement camp for a year?”

“Yeah, that’s what I hope to do.”

“Olivia, you don’t like sharing a bathroom. You get upset if you run out of your favorite hair product. You’re in college, but you take your clothes to the dry cleaner.”

“They come out so much better that way.”

“Have you seen what those camps look like? They put them in the middle of the desert. There isn’t a tree for miles, just lots of sand, tents, raw sewage, and poverty.”

“I get it. Living there will be rough. But I know I can always return to my parents’ home, I’ll be back here for medical school next year. I have access to money, a future, and connections. I think a year living like that will teach me lessons I’ll take with me for the rest of my life. More than that, my dream is to work for Médecins Sans Frontières. If I do this, I’ll learn if this dream is realistic.”

“This feels so sudden. You’ve never shown interest in humanitarian aid.”

“That’s because I was focused on getting into med school. I didn’t have time for anything else.”

“Didn’t you spend last summer vacation at your parent's house on the beach in The Hamptons?”

“I was exhausted from school. I needed some time to recharge. Anyway, I spent August volunteering at the local hospital.”

If Conner is going to be stationed in Jordan, I want to be close. I know, I shouldn’t be planning my life around him, but what I want and where he will be, seems to be colliding.

***

“I had another really good conversation with Conner,” Meredith informs me as we meet in the stacks to do homework.

“Did you go to Monterey for breakfast?”

“No, we spoke on the phone. It started a couple of weeks ago. You remember the weekend you were gone? After that weekend, he called me up and apologized.”

“Apologized for what?”

“He apologized about not being there for me when my dad moved him to the farm. Isn’t it crazy, once he apologized, this big wall came down, and we’ve been able to talk about so many things.”

I reach my hand across the table and place it over Meredith’s. “I’m glad you’re getting closer with your brother.”

Sam catches my eye and winks. How would he know I was behind the apology?