Wasted Salt

by Sarah Houssayni

  “Okay, just call the concierge and let’s go!” Zahra said.

  She heard Noor talk about her imaginary Hussein before, the knight in armor who would show up any minute to sweep her into an enchanted life. Zahra figured that one of those days Hussein would either show up or Noor would stop talking about him.

  The concierge named Anthony showed up as soon as Noor hung up, he must have been really close. He seemed a little nervous around Noor, who used her soft bedroom voice with him.

  “You can text me if someone needs us to work for them, or if you miss me!” Noor said to a red-faced Anthony.

  He mumbled something as he opened the lobby door and got back inside slamming a big glass door behind him.

  The July sun replaced Noor’s good mood minutes after walking in the midday heat towards the bus stop. Both girls were quiet as they sat on the bench waiting for the bus.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The following week was busy for Noor and Zahra; they spent hours on the bus to get to houses. Jobs seemed to be on opposite sides of town, and bus stops seemed miles away from the houses they needed to get to. They arrived flushed, sweaty, and tired before even beginning on the hours of endless cleaning requests.

  Noor promised Zahra customers like Mrs. Jeha with clean, empty houses, and some of the houses were fancy and clean, but most were the cluttered and messy homes of women who always bargained more work for no extra pay from Noor and Zahra. The housewives hovered over their heads and wanted one more thing done, just as Noor and Zahra thought they were finished.

  In the evenings Noor’s good spirits always returned to her and she had scandalous details to relate about some conversation she overheard the housewife of the day relate on the phone.

  “You know this last one we cleaned for? Her sister is getting an abortion! I heard her talking about it. She said”rawhi, rawhi," what else would she be wanting her sister to lose?" Noor’s excitement was barely contained by her loud whispers.

  “I am sure their church doesn’t agree about killing babies. No church does! This woman sits on the board of the Christian school she sends her kids to. I bet she doesn’t approve of abortion there!” Noor was still going about the presumed abortion story.

  Zahra felt bad for people’s lives becoming tales that Noor told, however Zahra never said a word to stop her. Zahra figured that was Noor’s logic for making the work they did more bearable. For Zahra, the thought of saving enough money to change her life got her through many soiled floors and smelly bathrooms.

  Diane was in the living room watching her shows on TV as Noor and Zahra made themselves dinner sandwiches in the kitchen a couple feet away.

  “Maybe she wanted her sister to get rid of a cat!” Zahra said.

  She took a bite of her labneh and olives on rolled pita bread and swallowed the orange juice that Noor poured both of them in red plastic cups. Diane didn’t like dishes in her sink, and Noor’s solution was to buy disposable plates and cups to end the sink conflict.

  “It was a pregnancy—her sister is not even married! That is church-going people for you. The religion of good appearances!” Noor said. She whispered loud enough to be heard from across the street.

  Every time Zahra answered, Noor put her finger to her mouth gesturing her to be quiet. Noor’s scandalous stories seemed equally distributed between people of different religions and religious practices.

  “Nothing like a Muslim married to a Muslim whose kids insist on eating ham sandwiches! Tstttt!” Noor exclaimed this one day after she found ham while she was cleaning the fridge of a Muslim family.

  She carried the plastic package of ham into the bedroom where Zahra was cleaning the floors, and shook it in front of her like a dead animal. Noor prided herself on not eating pork. She warned Zahra against eating pepperoni on her pizza, telling her it was a pork derivative and that she hated to see Zahra unintentionally offend Allah.

  Zahra was a lot less interested in the stories than she was in making money and adding it to her money pouch that she always carried tied to her waist. To Zahra, customers were people she would forget as soon as she left. Just like Noor advised her a long time ago, they stopped being people when she started cleaning their messes.

  Zahra wished Noor followed her own advice, yet knew better not to tell Noor anything. The only thing that usually came from opposing Noor’s opinions was making those opinions firmer than ever. Nodding was easier than listening to a lecture.

  By the third week of Ramadan, Zahra was losing hope of ever saving money from cleaning houses. The rent to Diane, food, and transportations was using up most of the money she made. Zahra still did not have a phone. Without enough credit history, her application did not go through. She waited with Noor by the booth where a man wearing a blue vest helped her fill an application for a phone, and then apologized to her because the application was not accepted.

  “You can buy a prepaid phone with prepaid minutes, miss,” the man said.

  “No, she doesn’t need to waste her money like that!” Noor answered.

  She grabbed Zahra’s arm as she pulled her away towards the women’s clothing aisle. Noor loved Wal-Mart. She showed Zahra the nice colorful underwear section and told her that once Ramadan was finished, she would be back to buy herself some nice lingerie to model in. Zahra nodded and smiled, but she was sad about the news she just got about her poor credit. That day Wal-Mart was no longer the busy place full of every single thing anyone could possible need. It became a reminder that she was still a ways from being like the people shopping down the aisles.

  As she walked outside with Noor, she asked her more about the credit history predicament.

  “You get good credit paying credit card bills and rent. The rent you pay here doesn’t count because Diane doesn’t have a company, she rents under the table.”

  “You can pay me cash and use my phone,” Noor said.

  Zahra decided to wait until she had enough credit for a phone to call Nadim and Mustafa. They would find out that she was safe and busy with her new job if they called Mary’s phone, since Beth updated Mary about Zahra’s progress every Sunday at church.

  That day Zahra promised herself that she would apply for a job at Wal-Mart. There were employees in blue vests speaking English worse than hers, and who seemed successful at what they were doing. She hoped that she didn’t need good credit to apply for a job at Wal-Mart, but she was not going to ask Noor that day.

  Once Ramadan was over, she would fill out a job application, without telling a soul about it. She couldn’t see herself cleaning houses much longer, even if it paid twice as much. As much as Zahra resented America for providing the Israeli bomb that made her life impossible, she knew that the only way to get her life back was in America. It would start with a good job, then good credit, and the rest would follow.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Beth showed up in the evening. She asked to speak to Zahra about some First Baptist families who had housekeeping jobs for her.

  “Just you, Zahra, they don’t want more than one person at a time working in their house.”

  Noor stood in the door with her hand on her hip and the other one in the air waving in front of Beth. “If you think you can separate us, you don’t even know how wrong you are! I am the one who found all the houses we have cleaned so far!”

  “I understand, but she is new to this country and needs all the help she can get!”

  Beth’s voice was shaking; she sounded like a kid pushing back tears.

  Beth was always dressed in a pair of jeans with an elastic waist and a “First Baptist” T-shirt. She had those T-shirts in all the colors and each had a different verse printed on it. “Be still and know that I AM GOD” was the one she wore that evening.

  Zahra felt really bad for Beth, she hated not being able to invite her inside the house. Having visitors was against Diane’s rules. Zahra knew that Diane would be out of her room if the argument starting between Beth and Noor didn’t end very soon.

  �
��Thank you, Beth, maybe you can give me the numbers on a paper and Noor and I can talk about it.”

  “I have one family that’s expecting you tomorrow, I can come get you at eight in the morning. It’s my friend Sandy, I told her all about you, your experience with war.”

  Beth talked about Zahra’s life before moving to Wichita to anyone who would stop and listen. Zahra was often standing right next to her as Beth described with a voice fit for a TV narrator the hardships survived by Zahra. She had never told Beth much about surviving anything but somehow Beth imagined a story where Zahra barely escapes death and then survives with awful pain and gets saved by First Baptist Church, particularly the prayers sent by members that result in her safely arriving in “her new life” in Beth’s words. Zahra wondered if making up a horror story that ended with her being saved wasn’t part of the “job description” of being sponsored by the church. That was why she never stopped Beth or corrected her; the truth was somewhere in the middle with parts worse than Beth could imagine and the parts of it better than the life in Wichita.

  “Maybe you can tell your friend Sandy to find someone else, we are very busy tomorrow!” Noor said, before Beth finished her sentence.

  Zahra pinched Noor’s arm “Khalas Noor, bass!” She urged her friend to stop but Noor was getting louder by the minute.

  “Is this your way of thanking me for being a good friend for Zahra, the only friend she really has! If she shares my business then it’s fair I share hers! Isn’t fairness and good what you guys are all about?”

  Beth looked away from both of the girls and towards her car, as if the answer was inside Jelly Belly. Zahra got between Noor and Beth, pushed Noor inside the house, and shut the door. She was standing in the dark humid heat with Beth who was tearful.

  “I would help Noor, she needs a lot of help, but I am afraid she will get fired again,” Beth stated.

  “Please give us one chance. I think if you help her one more time, things will change for her,” Zahra pleaded.

  She was trying for her own sake as much as Noor’s. She hated cleaning houses and Noor’s presence with her was the only thing that made it bearable. Noor was the only proof she had on long days of endless window cleaning that Zahra was not just a maid, someone who shows up to clean other people’s messes. Noor always knew what was behind the fancy doors and elegant dresses, she saw and heard through the nice things they owned and artificial lives they inhabited.

  “Alright. Tomorrow morning, I will come pick you guys up at eight. Make sure she dresses appropriately,” Beth said to Zahra, while pointing at Noor.

  “Thank you so much, we will be ready! Noor doesn’t wear short dresses in Ramadan, you don’t have to worry.”

  Beth looked confused, but too much in a hurry to understand what Zahra just said. She got in Jelly Belly and waved Zahra goodbye.

  Zahra stood for a moment watching Beth drive away down the block, her lights reflected on neighbor’s houses before disappearing into the night. Zahra sat down on the concrete in front of the door and took a deep breath with her eyes closed.

  She imagined Beth and Noor getting along and the next day’s job being easy and paying well. The humidity was making her colostomy bag sticky and itchy; she looked up to the sky and saw stars just like the ones she used to see as a little girl.

  “Counting the stars gives you talool,” her older sisters warned her. She started avoiding looking at the stars all together; the last thing she wanted was a wart on her fingers.

  She wondered if Americans discouraged counting stars too. She would ask Beth sometime if they were around stars again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Noor didn’t go with Zahra the next morning. She told Zahra that staying home and not making money was better than listening to Beth on the way to and from the house. Zahra didn’t try to convince her friend otherwise, and went upstairs to meet Beth.

  “The house is small and there is not much mess to clean up, but get to know those people, you could babysit for them someday,” Beth said. She seemed sincere about wanting to help Zahra find a steady, reliable income.

  When they rang the doorbell a very pregnant blonde woman opened the door. She had a pretty face and tired blue eyes. Her hair was back in a ponytail and she panted as she spoke.

  “You must be Zaheera, I am Sandy, and it’s so nice to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you!” Sandy grabbed Zahra and hugged her.

  Zahra was pressed against Sandy’s hard protruding abdomen before Zahra had a chance to realize what was happening. When Sandy let go of Zahra, she had an expectant look on her face, but Zahra wasn’t sure what to say so she said nothing. Zahra looked at Beth, who stood right next to them smiling.

  Beth pointed to two blond children who were standing close to their mother inspecting Zahra with curious looks.

  “This little boy is Jeremiah and this little girl is Moriah. Guys, this is Zahra, my friend!” Beth said.

  “I am not a little girl! I am Moriah!” the girl screamed. She kicked the floor and got closer to her mother.

  “Yes! I forgot! Silly me! That’s Moriah, and she is a big girl!” Beth said.

  She extended her arms to the blond toddler who hid behind her mother. The little boy quickly lost interest in Zahra and went back to a pile of building blocks. Sandy gestured Zahra into the kitchen right next to the small living area.

  “It’s not much house, but it’s our home,” Sandy stated. Zahra nodded, she just wanted to know what needed done to get started.

  Beth excused herself and left. She told Zahra she would come back to pick her up by noon.

  “Please vacuum the floors then mop the kitchen.” Sandy pointed to a vacuum and a mop. She smiled the whole time she spoke to Zahra, in a slow loud voice, like the tone one would use with someone who didn’t speak the same language.

  “Okay—no problem,” responded Zahra.

  Zahra got busy and hoped Sandy would stay out of her way. It was a good thing Noor didn’t come with her—she would have been rude to Sandy. People like Sandy always brought up Noor’s cranky side.

  “Mommy, why is she here?” One of Sandy’s kids kept yelling and standing in the way of Zahra’s mop.

  “Jeremiah! Inside voice, please! She is here to help Mommy, now I need you to stay out of the vacuum’s way and let her do her job.”

  “But I want to help you, Mommy!” the kid screamed and kicked.

  Sandy got on her knees and whispered into his ears something that made him get back to his building blocks in the family room. Before too long however, the little boy was back in Zahra’s way. She didn’t look at him, ignored his presence, and moved the vacuum out of his way, Sandy reappeared in the room and grabbed the boy by the hand and dragged him out kicking and screaming.

  “Time out for somebody who is being very bad!” Sandy said, and the boy’s screams turned to sobs that went on for a few more minutes.

  The girl had golden hair and a smile sweet like her mother’s. She stood on one side of the room and stared at Zahra. The girl ran to the next room every time she looked up from the vacuum. When she turned off the vacuum, Zahra heard the girl talking to her mother in the next room.

  “Mommy, why is she touching our things?” queried Moriah.

  “Because she was not born in this county, sweetie, and something very bad happened to her, and now our church is trying to help her become American like you and me. Jesus wants you to help thy neighbor, remember?”

  “She is our neighbor? Does she have a daughter? Can I go play with her daughter, Mommy?”

  “No, sweetie, she is our neighbor in Christ.”

  “Christ is our neighbor? I want to see baby Jesus!”

  “Baby Jesus is in heaven, remember?”

  The little girl lost interest in Zahra once she figured out that there was no play date or baby Jesus involved. She went outside and spent the rest of the morning playing in an inflatable three-ring plastic pool full of water. Occasionally, she would add tree leaves and toys to the
pool. The little boy eventually followed his sister.

  Zahra moved as quickly as she could, the carpet smelled like old cheese and diapers, she vacuumed it twice, but it looked just as brown and sticky as it did before she started. The furniture was not difficult to dust. Sandy’s bedroom was full of baby equipment. She had a crib by her bed and a baby swing just a few feet away from it, by the window there was a changing table and a basket with neatly folded baby clothes. The two older kids shared the only other bedroom in the house. That one had two neatly made-up small beds and toys put away in a corner. Zahra swept the kitchen floor after she wiped down the cabinets and the table and chairs. She went outside looking for Sandy once she was done to let her know to call Beth.

  “I am finished, unless there is something else you need me to do.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Sandy said, in her startled loud voice again. “Beth said you might be joining our congregation. We have prayed for you when you were on your way. I am so glad to see you here finally and safe.” Sandy gave Zahra another tight hug, Sandy’s belly pushed against Zahra’s colostomy, more full as the day went on. Zahra pushed Sandy away gently and nodded.

  “Thank you for everything,” Zahra said.

  Sandy called Beth and related to her Zahra was ready for her ride. She talked to Beth for a long time about Zahra and her good work. She looked at Zahra and lifted her eyebrows in a big smile after every sentence. Zahra was sitting on the sofa by the door. She didn’t want to empty her bag in the one little bathroom that was just a few feet away from the living room. Zahra looked around at the house, it seemed even smaller than Diane’s place and it didn’t even seem to have a basement. Facing Zahra was a bookshelf with pictures of Sandy’s kids. The pictures were inside assorted frames. There was a photo of a smiling Sandy wearing a wedding dress. A man in a military uniform had his arm wrapped around her. Sandy still had that same cheerful expression, but her eyes seemed more tired and sad. Above the frame the quote said, “Therefore what God has joined together, let no man separate; Mark 10:9.”