The Allspice Bath

by Sonia Saikaley

  The following day, Adele poured coffee into a small cup. She held it to her lips, her mouth tensing, her eyes pinching at the bitter taste. Opening the front door, she walked out into the yard, and lay the cup on the ledge of the window. With her hands on her hips, she stared into the distance, admiring the glorious mountains and fields. The field directly in front of her was empty except for grazing sheep and a shepherd. The shepherd’s staff bobbed up and down in rhythm to his staggered walk. Adele raised her right hand to her eyes, protecting herself from the rising sun. She squinted harder. The shepherd had a long, scraggily beard and a thin frame. Dishevelled hair fell around his face, some strands lightened by the sun, others a dark chestnut with streaks of silver. He wore a tattered tweed blazer with worn patches on the elbows. Adele lifted her hands to her mouth before she began to run into the field, the clean windows absorbing the dusty trail of her sprint.

  “Elias!” she shouted midway, waving frantically. But the shepherd didn’t look up. His eyes were fixed on his flock until Adele stood before him, out of breath and clutching his arms. “Elias! It’s you. My God, I thought I’d never see you again.” She pulled him into her body and embraced him. His arms stayed close to his sides as he eased himself back. Adele let him go. She gazed into the greenish-blue eyes she had admired years before. Now there was a vacant, glassy look in them—the look of defeat. “Elias,” she repeated, “It’s Adele. Do you remember me?”

  He remained silent, the staff in his hand slowly shaking.

  She then held his head between her hands, brought his face close to hers. “It’s Adele. Remember how you helped me. You helped me.” She began to sob. Letting go of his face, she turned and looked back at the house again, and saw the silhouette of her mother standing by the doorframe. She started to walk towards her mother when she felt a hand gently squeezing her shoulder, and heard her name. “Adele. Adele. Adele,” Elias repeated over and over, his strained vocal chords learning to speak their first words since his long and self-imposed silence.

  “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” Elias said, his voice cracking.

  “I felt the same way. I often thought about you. Remembered how sweet and kind you were to me. How you helped me escape. You made life better for me.”

  He cleared his throat. “You did that on your own. I only got you out of here. You did the rest yourself.”

  Adele smiled at Elias, then turned towards the house. Her mother stood there with a basket of mint leaves in her hands. Adele began to cross the field, then turned and motioned for Elias to follow her. Moments later, they stood in front of Samira. “Mama, do you remember Elias?” Adele asked.

  Samira nodded. “Marhaba, Elias.” Then said to her daughter, “I’m heading to my brother’s for the day. I’ll see you in a few hours, okay.” She kissed Adele on the forehead, then touched Elias on the shoulder, addressing him in a forced politeness, “It is good to see you again.”

  Elias nodded, then timidly looked at Adele who flashed him a kind smile.

  Samira lifted her head in the direction of the sheep. “Don’t forget your flock.”

  “No, Auntie, I won’t forget,” he said, his voice dropping a little.

  Adele’s eyes followed her mother, watching her walk down the dirt road to her uncle’s house. Then she stared back at Elias. His eyelids were shut tight as if holding back the tears she had seen well up in them when her mother spoke to him. It wasn’t fair. Elias hadn’t done anything wrong. He wasn’t to blame for her fleeing. Reaching across to his face, she put her hand on his cheek and stroked his scraggily beard.

  “What happened, Elias?”

  “I don’t know,” he croaked, trying to control the tremor in his tone.

  “Why did you return? I thought you wanted to leave, to start fresh.”

  “I don’t know.” His chest rose up and down, his breathing ragged.

  She touched the rough facial hair, entangling her fingers in its coarseness. She leaned in close to his left ear and whispered, “Let me help you.” She let go of his beard and held her hand out to him.

  And without saying a word, he accepted her warm palm and allowed her to guide him inside the house, down the hallway and into the bathroom.

  CHAPTER 26

  ADELE ASKED ELIAS IF SHE COULD HELP him bathe. At first, Elias looked away shyly but when Adele went to the clawfoot tub and filled it with bubbles and warm water, Adele heard Elias strip off his dirty clothes. When she heard Elias shuffle his feet across the floor, she turned so that he could slip into the tub without Adele catching a glimpse of his naked body. She wished she had some allspice to soothe Elias’ rough, suntanned skin but there was none in the house so instead, she poured the water slowly over his head, the dirt sliding away and disappearing in the soapsuds of the jasmine shampoo she had massaged into his scalp with the tenderness of a lover and the compassion of a caregiver. She didn’t stop kneading her fingers even when he wept in shame at the state of his body, the filth that layered his skin. After she rinsed his hair, she got up from her knees and grabbed the scissors and a razor blade from the medicine cabinet. She knelt beside the old tub again. Bit by bit, strand by strand, the hairs fell in the bubbles until the handsome face she had laid eyes on years ago reappeared. “Better. Now I can see you,” she said, smiling.

  Elias raised his hands to his face, brushed his fingers across his clean-shaven cheeks. Sobs escaped his throat once more. He wiped his eyes, then nose. “I’m sorry I’m acting like a baby.”

  Adele interjected. “It’s all right. It’s like you’re meeting a long-lost relative after a lengthy separation.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, still sniffling.

  With the bar of soap, she lathered the cloth in her hands, then dropped it on his back. She scrubbed his flesh in circular motions, starting with his back, shoulders, then chest. When she guided the rag to his groin, Elias stopped her, gently holding her wrist. He sadly looked down. His limp penis floated in the fading bubbles.

  “It’s okay, Elias,” she reassured. “I’ve seen…” she stopped, leaned in close to his face and said in a sexy voice, “and felt a penis before.”

  “You naughty girl,” he laughed.

  At first she had thought he might say that small but forceful word her father had always used but he didn’t. Ayb was nowhere on his beautiful, full lips.

  Proceeding with the bath, she rubbed his penis, had almost hoped it would rise if only a little bit but it remained flaccid. Elias didn’t look at her face, but kept his gaze straight ahead. She knew he wanted to cry by the tension around his mouth, but instead he bit his lip.

  Adele moved the rag between his legs, the absence of his testicles made her eyes water but the steam of the bath hid her sympathy, something she was thankful for because he didn’t deserve to see the pity she suddenly felt. After a few quick movements, she finished cleaning his thighs, calves, then feet.

  “All done,” she said.

  Elias lifted his hands from the water and flicked some drops on her face.

  She wiped her forehead with the rolled sleeve of her shirt. “What was that for?”

  “It’s your turn!” He rested his elbows on the edge of the tub and reached for Adele, playfully trying to pull her into the water.

  “No, no,” she squirmed free. “Well, this is the thanks I get for helping.”

  He frowned in a teasing way. “I suppose I should feel grateful.”

  “Yeah,” she laughed.

  “You’ve given me back my handsome, sexy looks.” Strands of wet hair fell around his face.

  “Now I wouldn’t go that far.”

  He cupped some water in his hands and threw it at her, wetting her hair and neck.

  “Oh, that’s it! No more Ms. Nice Girl!” She lunged at him, ducked his head back in the bath, then let go quickly. As he rose out of the water, forgetting his earlier timidness, he burst into laughter alon
g with Adele. Then there was silence. Elias sat back in the tub and wiped the wet strands of curls from Adele’s face, brushing them behind her ears.

  “How long are you planning to stay, Adele?”

  “A month or two until my mother gets settled. My mother will spend part of the time here and in Ottawa. I’ll be back for the summers.”

  “Tell me about your life in Toronto,” he whispered.

  “It’s great. I’m an artist. Toronto has been good to me. I have a lot of friends. I have a lot of independence—my own apartment, my own routine, my own life.”

  He looked sad for a moment, then smiled. “I’m happy for you.” He placed his right hand on the edge of the tub.

  She rested her fingers on his. Sunlight entered the small bathroom, making the haze of steam rising from the tub a yellowish-orange shade. “What about you? You once mentioned moving to France to become an Arabic literature professor.”

  “You remember that?”

  Adele nodded.

  He removed his hand from Adele’s and folded his arms on his chest. “That was a long time ago. I can’t do it now.”

  “You can do whatever you want. Do you really want to move to France?”

  “I don’t know,” he said in a quiet voice. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

  She softened the lines around her eyes, then raised her hand and dabbed at the sweat beads above Elias’s lips. She then pressed her palm into his cheek, wiping the tears streaking down his face. And she remembered the man who had helped construct the beginning of a free, yet now connected, life from her family. She said determinedly, “I think you’d make a wonderful professor.”

  “I often think about it, you know. My thoughts always turn to France.”

  “Okay, then, tomorrow we’ll start making a plan for you. I’m here for two months so by the time I board a plane back to Canada, you’ll be off to Paris.” Adele winked then handed Elias a towel before she slipped out the door and stared out the kitchen window at the distant mountains, the gold sky. She opened the front door and stepped outside. She smiled, remembering her mom’s race up the mountains with her brother, and Adele began to run.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Warmest thanks to my extraordinary editor Luciana Ricciutelli, my amazing publicist Renée Knapp, the talented cover designer Val Fullard, and the rest of the wonderful team at Inanna Publications for believing in my work and guiding this book into publication. I also want to thank my agent Morty Mint for his support, wisdom, and faith in my writing. Special thanks to the Humber School for Writers and Karen Connelly who mentored me many years ago and offered invaluable advice as I wrote this story. Thanks to Joanna Reid for reading an earlier version of the manuscript and for her enthusiasm and support. I want to express my appreciation to Dr. Lamees Al Ethari, Terri Favro, Shilpi Somaya Gowda, Anita Kushwaha, Debra Martens, Dimitri Nasrallah, and Ian Thomas Shaw for generously reading the manuscript and providing great endorsements. My deepest gratitude and love to my friends and family for always encouraging me in my writing life. And, finally, to my dear readers, thank you for holding this book in your hands and for journeying into Adele’s world. Your support means the world to me.

  Excerpts of this novel, or earlier versions of them, have appeared in Writers4Peace; Maple Tree Literary Supplement and Paragon.

  Photo: Nora Nesrallah Haggar

  Sonia Saikaley was born and raised in Ottawa, Canada, to a large Lebanese family. The daughter of a shopkeeper, she had access to all the treats she wanted. Her first book, The Lebanese Dishwasher, co-won the 2012 Ken Klonsky Novella Contest. Her first collection of poetry, Turkish Delight, Montreal Winter, was published in 2012 and a second collection, A Samurai’s Pink House, was published in 2017 by Inanna Publications. She is currently working on a novel called Jasmine Season on Hamra Street. A graduate of the Humber School for Writers, she lives in her hometown of Ottawa.