The Allspice Bath

by Sonia Saikaley

  “Damn squirrels,” Mrs. Foster cursed, releasing Adele’s hands. She lifted her own in the air and batted in the direction of the furry creature. “I won’t miss those rodents! They were always eating from my vegetable garden! You know, I tried everything to keep them away but they always came back for more. I even left nuts outside for them, but they always went for the tomatoes and zucchini.”

  “Obviously, they know vegetables are good for them.”

  “True,” Mrs. Foster nodded, then added, “but stay away from my tomatoes!” The black-eyed creature scurried away almost as if it had heard Mrs. Foster’s scolding tone.

  Adele stood up slowly, reached into her pocket and pulled out her acceptance letter. “I have some good news,” she said, handing the note to her friend.

  Mrs. Foster lifted her glasses from the coffee table and adjusted them on the tip of her nose. She unfolded the letter and read the contents. “I’m so happy for you, dear,” she exclaimed. “This is wonderful news! Well done.” The old woman embraced her and added jubilantly, “Congratulations! Your parents must be so proud of you.”

  Adele pursed her lips, then said, “I haven’t told them yet.”

  “You must,” Mrs. Foster encouraged. “Being accepted to university is a wonderful milestone in a young person’s life. And you’re the first person in your family to go, aren’t you? What an accomplishment!”

  “But the school isn’t here.”

  “So? They’ll bend the old world rules, don’t you think?”

  Adele was on the verge of tears. “I don’t know.”

  “You won’t know until you ask, my dear,” Mrs. Foster insisted, putting her arm around Adele once more. “Maybe they’ll surprise you.”

  “You’re right, Mrs. Foster. This is a good thing for me and parents only want the best for their kids, right?”

  “Exactly. My dear, bless you for being so positive after all you’ve been through,” the older woman gently squeezed Adele’s arm before leaning in and giving her another hug. Deeply breathing in Mrs. Foster’s jasmine scent, Adele knew what it felt to be loved.

  Youssef sat in the living room when Adele announced her good news. She tried to decipher her father’s face. A look of pride was nowhere to be found. He kept silent as he listened to her.

  “I got accepted to the University of Toronto. It’s a great school and some of my friends are going there, so I won’t be alone. There are some Lebanese people there too,” Adele added with a smile, thinking this fact would encourage her parents to accept her decision.

  Samira’s eyes were fixed on the floor. Adele stared at her mother willing her to look up and say “Good for you. Congratulations.” Instead, she kept her eyes down and didn’t speak.

  Youssef, on the other hand, opened his mouth and grunted, “No daughter of mine is going away to school. No marriage, no leaving my house. You got two choices: stay in Ottawa for school or get married, then do as you please.” Youssef slapped his hands together, rubbing his palms to symbolize the finality of his decision.

  “But Babba…” Adele started, exasperated. Her face lost its smile. She leaned forward and spoke with her hands, waving them frantically in the air. “But Babba…”

  Youssef interrupted. “No ‘but Babba.’ You’ve always been the pig-headed one in this family.”

  Adele scoffed. “Me? You’re the one as stubborn as a mule. We’re not in the old country, Babba. Times are changing. Women are allowed to be independent, to move out of the house without being married.”

  “Enough,” Youssef said, lifting his hand. He pointed his finger at Adele. “You’re not some enklese girl. You follow tradition, not some Canadian rule where kids are supposed to move out on their own. You’re Lebanese, not white, remember? And you’re my daughter. No daughter of mine is becoming some … some…” he sputtered as he searched for the right word. “What do you call those girls always demanding equal rights, the ones always on the news causing problems?”

  “A feminist,” Adele mumbled, sitting back on the couch. She clutched the letter in her hands and it wrinkled in her fist.

  “No daughter of mine is a feminist. A feminist got no place in my family, understand?” he said, glaring at her. He slammed his hand back on the arm of the sofa. “Like I said, you got two choices: go to school here or get married and see if your husband agrees to move to Toronto. End of story.”

  Adele looked across at her mother for support but Samira’s eyes focused on her hands in her lap. With one quick, angry movement, Adele rose from the sofa and held the letter up in front of her father’s face. She then tore it apart, throwing bits of paper at him as if a squall had blown into his cheeks. “Are you happy, Babba? You won.”

  Adele observed a change of colour in her father’s face but she didn’t care. Let him have another outburst, she thought. Adele turned to her mother again. Their eyes met for a moment, but then Samira lowered her head again. She remained silent.

  Heaving a deep sigh, Adele rested her hand on the banister before making a quick dash up the stairs.

  Two weeks later, Adele received a letter of acceptance from the University of Ottawa. Reluctantly, sadly, she checked the acceptance box, signed the form and stuffed it in the return envelope. Depression overwhelmed her while she walked into the grocery store and stood in front of her father. He was wiping the counter with a wet rag, leaving perfect straight lines across the wooden surface. The light from the early dusk reflected inside the store, touching Youssef; his face had multiplied in wrinkles over the past few years. His eyes were sunken and less luminescent, almost sad. Adele couldn’t help but feel pity for her father. This store was his livelihood. Keeping a shop was the only thing he had learned to do and business was dwindling with the introduction of superstores. Standing before her father, Adele held up the envelope. “I’m staying here, Babba,” she said, biting her lower lip and trying to stop the tremor in her voice.

  “You’re doing the right thing, Adele,” Youssef said. Having inherited her mother’s oval face and pensive look, she looked nothing like her father. His eyes opened wide and softened simultaneously as he gazed at her. “You look beautiful.”

  Adele looked away. Her father had never complimented her before. She wondered what was happening. What had come over him? They stood face to face. Adele watched her father stretch out his hand and press his palm into her cheek. She looked up at her father. There were tears in his eyes.

  The days passed and the month of June came to an end. Fireworks exploded in the dark clouds. Beams shooting skyward then collapsing downward as partygoers watched in awe at the colourful display. When it was all over, the national anthem pounded out of loud speakers on Parliament Hill. Another Canada Day was over. People began to disperse. Adele’s face disappeared amidst the crowd but then she was reunited with her family who were making their way back home where Samira and Youssef awaited them. The four sisters now joined the ranks of three brothers-in-law, Ziad, George, and Marcel, and a tiny chorus of nieces and nephews singing Happy Birthday in Arabic. Adele was absorbed in her thoughts while her sisters and their families hurried back to the home they had all once lived in together. She was the only single daughter. Years earlier, her sisters had all managed to leave and become independent women, obtaining this freedom acceptably, through marriage. But Adele couldn’t even pursue her education in another city! She laughed in spite of herself. Rima and Katrina turned and looked at her. Her thick hair was pulled back and held in place with a red bandana though ringlets spilled out, coming to rest around her neck. Mona had tried to convince Adele to remove the bandana, but she refused. “Why are you dressing as if you’re from the old country? Aren’t you a self-hating Leb?”

  Adele pushed her sister’s groping hands and tightened the bandana. “Mind your own business. I don’t tell you how to dress.”

  “No one has to tell me how to dress. I have great style,” Mona had said, touchi
ng her hair, now cut in a bob. She wore a miniskirt, revealing her thin legs and perfect hips, things she had managed to retain in spite of the birth of her son and daughter.

  Adele glanced from one sister to another. Rima, who had once always smiled now frowned and fretted with her three children, pushing hair out of their eyes, adjusting collars of shirts, wiping drool from the youngest child’s mouth. Adele studied the way Rima’s forearms jiggled with the extra weight she had gained since her pregnancies. Ziad had remained the same since their nuptials, cocky and arrogant as ever. His open-collared shirt revealed the gold chain and crucifix he always wore. The only new features were the grey hairs sprouting on his chest and head. Married life had been good to him, Adele thought.

  “Danny, stop at the sidewalk. Danny! Don’t cross the street by yourself,” Rima said harshly. “Stay on the sidewalk, okay?”

  Adele turned back to look at her sister. Her beautiful face was pale and her long hair was brittle, pulled back in the ponytail she always wore these days.

  Ziad suddenly laughed, nudging George, Katrina’s husband. “Look at her!” The two men stared at a young woman walking by, her buttocks barely contained in her cut-off shorts. The young woman smiled and winked at Ziad. “Habibi, I’ll be thinking of you tonight!” he said, stroking his crotch. Slinging his arms around George and Marcel, he said in a whisper, “Wouldn’t you love to get a piece of her? She’s probably wild in bed. Rima’s so old-fashioned. She only likes to do it one way and that’s all. Sometimes I can’t even bother with her. I have no desire to be with her.”

  Adele was about to scold him but when she saw Rima’s red face, she kept quiet. This wasn’t the first time Ziad had openly belittled his wife. Adele couldn’t help herself. “You know, Ziad, there are pills out there for impotence. You should seriously consider visiting your doctor.”

  Coldly, Ziad replied, “I don’t need pills. I need a sexier wife, that’s all.”

  “You’re an asshole!” Adele snapped.

  Ignoring this comment, Ziad said, in a mocking tone, “The girls of this country think just because they’re born here makes them superior to us men.” He lightly slapped Marcel’s back. But Mona’s husband remained silent.

  At that moment, Rima extended her arm and rested it on Adele’s shoulders. Her right hand squeezed Adele’s forearm. She held her back while the others went ahead, Ziad still guffawing. “Stop arguing with Ziad. He’s my husband, not yours,” Rima said angrily. Adele sighed and watched her sister join her husband, hooking her arm into his.

  In a few minutes, they were back at Youssef and Samira’s house. The members of the family climbed up the stairs, moving inside while Adele stayed back and sat on the steps, glancing at her parents’ small front yard. She looked at the grapevine her father had constructed with panels of wood, hooking veins along the sides. The plentiful grape leaves fluttered in the warm summer wind. Tiny purplish-red grapes had started to grow; the leaves were edible when Samira stuffed them with rice and meat and made maza for her family. A bit of the old country existed in this small plot of land, Adele thought. The neighbouring homes had lawn ornaments and flowers adorning the well-trimmed grass. But her parents had brought Lebanon with them by planting this grapevine. Engrossed in her thoughts, she jumped when Youssef called out her name. “Adele,” Youssef said quietly, holding open the screen door.

  She turned to face her father. “Yes, Babba?” she asked with a smile.

  Youssef glanced at her, addressing her in a soft tone. “Adele...” She realized her acceptance to the local university must have affected him profoundly because he said, “Habibi,” Sweetheart. “Come inside. I have some good news.”

  Adele got up from the steps, wiped the back of her skirt and walked towards her father. She bent down slightly as her father’s arm pushed the screen door wider allowing her more room to pass. She slid past him and once inside, Youssef rested his hands on her shoulders and led her into the living room where her mother, sisters and brothers-in-law were seated. The strong scent of ahweh filled her nostrils. She turned her head towards the basement entrance and heard the voices of her nieces and nephews playing in the room she had once played in as a child. She then sat down on the sofa beside her father, his hand resting on her left knee.

  Surrounded by her family, she smiled and said, “So what’s the good news?” She looked across at her brothers-in-law chewing on pistachios and sipping steaming Arabic coffee. She glanced between her sisters and mother. Their faces gleamed with delight. Adele knew they had already been told the secret. “Come on,” Adele pleaded, “tell me.”

  “Patience, babba,” Youssef said, now gently squeezing her knee. He leaned over towards the tray in front of him and lifted the small copper pot, then poured the black liquid into a tiny cup. He handed it to Adele. Shocked, Adele tried to hide her surprise at her father’s sudden kindness. In all her years, she had never seen him serve anyone and least of all herself. She bit her lower lip to prevent a large grin from taking over her face. She sat back and lifted the cup to her mouth, taking tiny sips of the bitter coffee.

  Then she smiled, placed the saucer on the tray and sat with her hands under her thighs. She straightened her back, faced her father and gave him her full attention.

  “As we all know, Adele just got accepted to a university here in Ottawa,” he emphasized.

  Adele smiled faintly and looked across at the other family members. They nodded their heads.

  Her father continued, patting his chest. “She has made her Mama and me very proud.”

  Adele tried not to stare at her father too hard.

  “And as a symbol of our pride, I have decided to take my girls and wife on a trip.”

  The brothers-in-law sat up and shouted, teasingly, “What about us?”

  “Someone’s got to watch the kids and take care of the store,” Youssef muttered, laughing.

  Adele smiled again. Everyone was speaking loudly, happily.

  “Where are you taking us, Babba?” Mona asked, resting her arm on the back of the couch and combing her fingers through her husband’s short hair.

  “Rome? Paris? Egypt? Disney World?” the sisters teased, each taking turns at guessing the destination.

  “No.” Youssef shook his head, the smile pasted on his face. “All wrong. I’m taking you to the best country in the world.”

  “Canada? But we already live here,” Rima said, feigning disappointment.

  “No, no, the other best,” Youssef said, nodding his head vigorously. “Lebanon.”

  Adele and her sisters clapped their hands and started talking at the same time, eyes glistening. Samira smiled too, lifting her hands to her mouth then slapping them against her thighs, also excited by the happy atmosphere.

  “Adele has never been to Lebanon like her sisters, so I thought this would be the perfect gift. She made the right choice to stay in Ottawa for school,” Youssef said.

  Adele leaned over and quickly kissed her father on the cheeks. “Thank you, Babba. It’s a wonderful gift.” As she leaned forward, she noticed the coffee pot was nearly empty. She rose, picked up the copper container and walked into the kitchen.

  Samira rose, too, and followed her. She took Adele aside in a corner of the kitchen. “Are you happy, habibti?” she asked eagerly.

  She nodded. For once in her life, she felt content and loved.

  But from where she stood, she couldn’t see the smiles tensing on her sisters’ faces, couldn’t see Youssef lean forward with his elbows on his knees nor hear his whispered words.

  PART III: 1988

  CHAPTER 13

  THE OLD SILVER MERCEDES SWERVED through the streets of Beirut, scarcely missing the cars on the opposite side of the road. It was a stifling July day. The sun pounded through the windshield, heating the crowded vehicle and its passengers: Adele, her sisters, and their parents. The driver was her cousin Rafic. His short curly hair
was gelled back. The beginning of a goatee encased his full lips. Studying his face, Adele thought this must be the boy her father had always yearned for. Rafic looked very much like Youssef, only he had a darker complexion. Adele sat between the two men. “Thank you, nephew, for picking us up from the airport,” Youssef said, the smile on her father’s face one she had never seen before.

  “No problem, Uncle,” Rafic answered.

  Sweat rolled down Adele’s neck to her belly. A mild breeze swept the sand from the adjacent beach and entered the open windows of the Mercedes. She blinked, wiped the dust from her eyes, then looked out at the blue Mediterranean bordering the road. She stared at the bare-chested men and the women with brightly coloured sarongs wrapped around their hips, dangling earrings brushing against their suntanned cheeks, strolling along the shore. She clenched her jaw when she felt her father reach over her shoulders to touch her cousin.

  “So, how’s my boy? Or should I say ‘man’? You’ve grown so much. I remember you when you were only this tall,” Youssef said, holding up his other hand in the air. “Now, you’re a grown man!” He lowered his hand and placed it back on his thigh, the smile on his face still radiating.

  Rafic beamed and replied, “Well, Uncle, I’m twenty-four now and soon to be a father!” Rafic’s wife was expecting their first child.

  Adele kneaded her hands on her lap, pressing her knuckles together. She turned to look at her father. His deep eyes widened when he spoke with Rafic. “You’ve made me so proud, Rafic,” Youssef said, his normally stern face relaxed and happy. “I hope you have a son to carry on the Azar name.”

  “Enshallah,” Rafic replied, glancing at Adele and smiling.

  But she turned away from him and stared at her sisters and mother through the rear-view mirror. Their eyes were pasted to the windows and on the shimmering waves of water.