The Allspice Bath

by Sonia Saikaley

  “I used to tend the trees until the olives were ready to be harvested and shipped to cousins in Canada. I’d help my mother and father make the olive oil, too. Now Uncle Issa does this for his Canadian brother,” Youssef said, his voice cracking.

  “You Canadian, not Lebanese?” Issa laughed. “You’ve forgotten who you are?”

  “No, no,” Youssef said quickly, his eyes squinting in the afternoon light. “I’ll always be Lebanese. And…” he added, “my children are too. I raised them to be good Lebanese daughters.”

  Adele noticed her uncle staring at her, then felt her father’s eyes on her face, too.

  “I won’t argue that point, Youssef. You’re a good father,” Issa said.

  Adele cleared her throat and her sisters immediately turned to look at her, silently pleading her not to rebut their uncle’s last statement. Fortunately, she concentrated on the young man who stood quietly at the entrance of the gate with his hands in the pockets of his light brown tweed blazer. He was tall and lean with black wavy hair, falling to his chin, not cut short in the style that most men of their culture wore. He seemed to be in his mid-twenties. His jaw was square and covered with stubble. He was handsome in a dishevelled sort of way but it was his bluish-green eyes that made Adele turn away from the conversation and look across at him.

  “Marhaba,” he said, moving closer to the table. He stretched out his right hand and shook Issa’s hand, then Youssef’s. He nodded at the women around the table and smiled timidly.

  “Marhaba, Elias,” Issa said, pulling an empty chair out for the young man. “Sit down and join us.”

  “Elias, this is my niece Adele and her sisters.” Issa didn’t bother to introduce the others by name. Elias sat back in the chair beside Adele and rested his hands on the arms of it.

  “Do you speak Arabic?” Elias asked, turning to face Adele.

  She nodded. “Not very good, but I’m getting better.”

  “Well, Adele, I can teach you.” His cheeks turned pink as he said that and Adele couldn’t help but smile at the young man’s nervousness. There was something sweet about it. There was also something intriguing in the way Elias leaned close to her face and whispered in his accented English, “I’m very happy to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Adele answered. Now it was her turn to blush.

  The next day, she sat in front of the house with her sketchpad on her lap, drawing the mountains in the distance, and she looked up and spotted Elias standing a few feet away from her. “Hello, Adele,” he said. Nodding at the empty chair across from her, he asked gently, “May I join you?”

  “Sure,” Adele answered, placing the notebook on the plastic table.

  Elias pulled the book closer to him and looked down at the picture. “You’re a very talented artist. How long have you been drawing?”

  “Since I was a child.”

  “Maybe one day, you can draw a portrait of me?” Elias smiled shyly. “And I can say, I knew her when.”

  Adele laughed. “Well, I don’t know if I’ll ever become a famous artist or anything, but it’s one of my dreams.”

  “I had a dream once too.” There was a sadness in his voice.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He shook his head and said, “Maybe another time.”

  Adele didn’t push, moving the pencil between her fingers. “I think you can have more than one dream in lifetime. I think when one dies another can blossom.”

  “I like that.”

  “Do you have other dreams?”

  “Not at this moment but I always wanted to be a model for a beautiful woman.”

  Adele could feel her cheeks growing hot, which made her drop the pencil in her hand. It landed on the ground. As she bent down to pick it up, Elias’s head bumped into hers. He, too, was attempting to pick up the pencil.

  “Sorry,” they said simultaneously then smiled at each other.

  Elias had the pencil and he handed it to her with an exaggerated flourish of his arm. “Well, how about starting that sketch of me?” He got up quickly and posed, flexing his muscles in a macho way. “What do you think?”

  “I’ll call it the ‘Essence of a Lebanese man!’” Adele laughed again.

  “Unfortunately, the picture will be fake because I’m so very different from that machismo,” Elias said, sitting back down.

  “So you’re not your typical male Leb?”

  “No, I’m your typical bookworm. If I had the choice between bulging biceps or a set of books, I’d take the books any day.”

  “I love books too.”

  “Have you heard of Kahlil Gibran?”

  “He’s one of my favourite writers.”

  “Mine too.” There was a silence as Elias stared into Adele’s eyes, which made her quickly look away.

  Elias cleared his throat. “Here, please,” he said, handing her the sketchpad.

  And Adele began to draw his face.

  A few days later, Adele slipped a package into Elias’s hands while they sat in the front yard of her uncle’s house. It was a warm afternoon and the smell of garlic and allspice filtered out the windows and open doors, along with the loud voices of Adele’s family members as they swallowed their meals down with small glasses of arak. Seeing Elias coming up the walkway, Adele had rushed outside to greet him and present him with a gift.

  Her eyes followed his finger as he slowly unwrapped the rectangular parcel, revealing a drawing of Elias’s square-jaw and full lips, Adele watched the young man’s expression, how it seemed shy at first then radiant when he uncovered the picture she had captured of him with her strong lines and shading. “It’s beautiful, Adele,” he said, smiling. “I’ll always cherish it. Shukran.”

  “You’re welcome, Elias. I’m glad you like it.”

  “I love it.” Elias leaned in and kissed her on the cheeks. She leaned back against the doorframe, and motioned for him to come inside. “Let’s have lunch,” she said.

  Over a plate of stuffed grape leaves and homemade yoghurt, Adele looked across at Elias. He sat between her father and uncle, turning his head to and fro, trying to keep up with the conversation going on at the table. “But Youssef, I don’t want to leave my country. I’ve told you many times that Canada can never be my home.”

  “But what’s here for you? Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Issa asked. “There’s my family, the figs, the olives, the goats…”

  “Fuck the goats! Look at this fool,” Youssef said to Elias while pointing at Issa. “He wants to stay in a country filled with uncertainty because of the goats! Now is that crazy or just plain stupidity?”

  Elias didn’t reply, only stared across at Adele with his eyes wide.

  Adele smiled and tried to change the subject, “You know, Uncle, Canada has a lot of great things too.”

  “Like what? Snow and bloody cold temperatures.”

  “Yes, but there are other things, too, like great health insurance, good jobs….”

  “I’m healthy as an ox. I don’t need health insurance when I’ve got a good heart and bones. This comes from hard farm work, not some job where you sit on your behind all day, serving customers like your Babba,” Issa said, smiling and staring mockingly at Youssef.

  “Ya sharmout! I work just as hard as you and more so. You can finish whenever you want but I stay open until ten every night. Now who’s the hard worker?” Youssef said with a mischievous grin.

  “Okay, okay, you win but I’m not leaving my country, brother. This is my home. I’m Lebanese, not Canadian.”

  Youssef grunted then scooped up some laban, pouring the yoghurt over the cigar-shaped grape leafs and stuffing one into his mouth. And Adele was glad that her father was silent for once.

  When lunch was finally over, she and Elias headed outdoors. “Your father is a really funny character.”

 
“Yeah,” Adele mumbled though she really wanted to say, when he’s not being a bastard, but she kept her opinion to herself, following Elias down the dirt road towards the river. Once there, they sat at the edge of the riverbed.

  Elias lay down on the grass, placed his hands behind his head and gazed up into the sky. It was a clear blue, peaceful in spite the ever-present chaos that was going on in Beirut, the possible bombs, the shelling and gun smoke, the unrest, and threat of another war.

  “It’s so quiet out here,” Adele said. “It’s almost surreal. All we see at home on the news is a broken country, but if they showed the villages then we’d get a totally different perspective.”

  “News is always where the action is. Peace and quiet do not make good stories.”

  “I suppose. Have you ever been to Canada, Elias?”

  “No. But I would like to go one day, perhaps live there permanently. I know I would miss my family though. And I would hate the cold.”

  “You’d get used to it.”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Would you ever consider leaving Canada, moving to another country?”

  “You know, I never thought about that. It would be exciting to live abroad but my father would never allow it,” she said in a quiet voice.

  “I’m sorry. That was a stupid question. Being a Lebanese girl, you’re expected to get married then move out with your husband, not on your own. I thought perhaps this rule didn’t apply to a Canadian-born woman.” He sat up cross-legged.

  “My father’s very traditional.”

  “And you’re not?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “A little.” Elias moved closer to her so their knees were touching. Without thinking, Adele rested her hand on his thigh, rubbed the material of his jeans. Getting up quickly, Elias wiped the dirt from his pants and said, “I better head back home. Would you like to go out tomorrow?”

  “Sounds good,” Adele said, now standing.

  “I want to take you to the town of Baalbeck. We can bring your sisters too.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “Okay, then it’s a date.” Elias turned and waved as he sauntered off.

  The next day, Adele strolled beside Elias, the tips of their fingers finding each other as he showed the Azar sisters the ancient ruins of Baalbeck. Elias and Adele walked along a path of dry orange sand lined with whitish-grey rocks. The air was hot and smelled of dust. Gigantic ruins towered around them, pillars of extraordinary height and width, making it seem unimaginable that ancient crews were able to construct them without the aid of modern technology. But there they stood, only somewhat battered by many centuries, wars, thrashing storms, and the burning sun. Adele had to shield her eyes with her hands as she tilted her head back and gazed at the vast ruins. Lichen found its way in some of the grooves, darkening the stone. Sunlight poured through open holes between the cracked surfaces. Elias pulled her forward, eager to show his favourite structure. As they walked together, her eyes stared ahead at her sisters’ backs and every now and then one of them would turn and smile at her. She felt like a young teenager who had developed her first crush. She glanced at Elias and thought how handsome he looked amongst the ancient ruins. With his dark features and broad shoulders, he could pass as a Roman soldier.

  He let his arms swing so his fingers continually found their way to Adele’s hand. She had wanted to reach over and hold his hand, but that would have been too presumptuous, almost risky, because she barely knew this man by her side. Instead, she linked arms with him and let him describe the towering temples that surrounded them. She liked feeling him beside her. Elias turned his head and smiled as he looked down at their entwined arms. “Adele, see that temple,” he said, pointing to the six Corinthian columns jutting into the blue skyline. She liked the way he said her name, the way it rolled off his tongue. His voice was warm and deep. “That’s the Temple of Jupiter.” Adele was mesmerized by the vast structure. Then he gestured toward a circular monument a short distance away. “And that’s the Temple of Venus.” He guided Adele past a gate and up stone steps leading to the Temple of Bacchus. Breathing deeply, he stood still and said, smiling, “This is my favourite.”

  Adele tilted her head back and admired the gigantic building surrounded by several pillars. He rested his hand on the wall of the temple and explained, “Some poppies and grapes were carved in the stone back in the days of the young god named Baalbeck. Several worshippers brought wine and food to honour the god. It’s very beautiful.” He ran his fingertips along the markings then reached over and guided Adele’s hand over the carvings, pressing his palm on her knuckles. She suddenly felt a warmth in her belly and before she knew it she leaned into Elias’s face and kissed him on the mouth. He froze and jerked back, digging his hands into his pockets. Clearing his throat, he said, “Let’s join your sisters.”

  She looked down at the ground, twisting the toe of her ankle boot into the dry orange earth. “Okay,” she mumbled, sprinting ahead. Her sisters stood between the Corinthian columns, calling out to her to join them and complete a photograph. She hurried, not once turning to face Elias. He trailed behind her like a helpless pup.

  “I’m sorry,” Elias said, holding a small cup of ahweh in his large hands. They sat on the terrace of his parents’ house while his family settled in the living room, the sound of the television set filtering into the evening air. His long fingers were wrapped around the saucer as he turned it before him, glancing up from it every few seconds and into Adele’s probing eyes.

  “What happened back in Baalbeck? Didn’t you want me to kiss you?” she asked, not letting his eyes go. She glanced back at his family; they continued to watch the show, ignoring them.

  “Yes … no … I don’t know. It’s happening so fast. I thought this is what I wanted, especially since this is what my parents want. I want to be a good son…a good husband but…I don’t know.” He paused, put the cup down on the small plastic table between them and rubbed his forehead in frustration. The voices of his family began to drift out to the terrace. He got up and slightly closed the door leading to the terrace, then sat back down across from Adele. “Jeez, this should be easy.”

  The part about being a good child reminded her of all the things she had done to please her parents. She could understand his desire but the rest was making her squint and frown. “Husband? What are you talking about?” she finally asked, confused.

  “Your father thought we’d make a good match given our circumstances…”

  She held up a hand. “Wait a minute. What did you say? My father thought what?”

  “Sort of like an arranged marriage but not in the traditional sense … what other option do I have? Since my accident, I haven’t been able to … you know…” he stuttered. Elias moved his hands as if he could describe what he needed to say in sign language. Only Adele didn’t understand; she stared at him dumbfounded.

  “You’re not making sense, Elias. What circumstances? What accident?”

  He rested his elbows on the edge of the table then cupped his chin in his hands. “I thought your father explained everything to you and this is the reason you came to Lebanon. I thought this is what you wanted.”

  Speechless, she shook her head.

  “Is this the first time you’ve heard of our arrangement?”

  She nodded.

  “Oh Christ,” Elias whispered. “I am sorry. I thought your father would have told you.” He leaned in closer to Adele and spoke in a low voice so his parents couldn’t hear them. Adele followed Elias’s eyes as they stared worriedly back at his family. They were still enthralled with the Arabic dancing on the TV. He turned back to her. “Let me start from the beginning.”

  “About two years ago, I was in a serious car accident. A bomb exploded while I was driving on the streets of Beirut. So many people were hurt; it was horrible. So many children hurt, so many women … a bo
mb doesn’t discriminate. People were running all over the place with gashes and burns on their skin. I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off the road, but I couldn’t look away from the fear on people’s faces and by the time I saw the car racing towards me, I didn’t have a chance to brake or swerve. When my parents saw me in the hospital, they thought I was going to die but I didn’t. I pulled through. Sometimes I think it might have been better if Allah hadn’t spared my life. When days are bad, I think this way. The impact of the collision forced a metal plate between my legs….” After a long pause, he continued. “My testicles were severed. I was only twenty-two. A young man! I had a steady girlfriend and we had dreams of moving to France, where I would become a professor of Arabic literature and she’d be a journalist. But when she learned of my situation, she refused to see me again. She said it was too hard for her to face me, to know that I’d never be able to make her a mother.”

  Adele took hold of his hand.

  “When I recovered from my injuries, I learned the extent of my problem. I learned that I wouldn’t be able to function completely as a man. And, well, our parents thought we’d make a good match. You can’t have children. I can’t have children. It’s logical, right?” He shook his head. “I kept telling them that it wouldn’t be fair to you. You could at least still have a healthy … um, sex life while I can’t … I said it wouldn’t be fair. Didn’t anyone tell you this?”

  She shook her head. After Elias finished talking, he slumped back in his chair and Adele rose from hers. Elias reached out to take her hand but she pushed him away and walked past his family, mumbling a hasty goodnight. She stumbled down the stone steps, pressing her hands into the walls, trying to balance herself. Her mind would not be still. She heard Elias’s words over and over again until she reached the dirt road and found she was light-headed. A short distance away, she looked up at Elias, who was still on the terrace, collapsed in the chair and resting his forehead on the table. He looked at her once more before dropping his head to his arms. She rushed down the dimly-lit road to her father’s old home. “Fuck! I can’t believe this bullshit,” she cursed and, at the same time, kicked at stones on the unpaved street.