Wasted Salt

by Sarah Houssayni

  Zahra sat on the bed and waited until Diane got back to her bedroom to go upstairs and make sure Noor had not come home. She found no sign of Noor upstairs. Zahra’s worry was turning to dread.

  Noor could have spent the night with Hussein, they could have made up and for all Zahra knew, he could spend Eid with them the next day. Zahra came back downstairs and got cleaned up and dressed to go to First Baptist and talk to the refugee program coordinator about applying to Wal-Mart. Zahra planned to ask for Noor too, it would be Noor’s eidi, her Eid gift this year. A job where people don’t assume that she is good for nothing more than cleaning their toilets.

  Today would be the first day Zahra rides the bus alone, she felt ready although worry about Noor kept creeping into her chest. She couldn’t wait for Noor to come back to go with her, especially if the following day turned out to be an Eid they celebrated together. Noor had a long list of places to go on Eid, First Baptist was not on that list.

  Zahra saw Wichita State University on her way to the church office. It was a big campus that covered two blocks, young men and women carrying bags and backpacks were walking across the streets leading to the university. Inside the gates were different buildings that Zahra imagined were different departments. She could see huge stretches of green grass and healthy colorful flowers between those buildings.

  Zahra felt happy thinking about going to Wichita State someday. She would be one of those students with the pack packs crossing the street. Beth mentioned to Zahra that there was a test to take before one could qualify to become a university student, and that Beth knew refugees who took the test and got scholarships and joined Wichita State.

  Zahra’s heart felt full in a sunny way when she dreamed about going to the university. First, she needed her colostomy closed, the last thing she needed as a university student was an unpredictable crater that erupted randomly with repulsive smells. The bus stopped a block away from First Baptist, and Zahra’s insides cramped as she remembered that Noor had not returned home. She would try to call Noor’s cell from the church office, at least make sure her friend was safe.

  First Baptist was a red brick building on Third Street, no gardens surrounded it like some of the other churches Zahra walked by. This was the first place she came to after Diane’s house. Mary Malone introduced her to Beth that day, and Beth took Zahra to her medical appointment at the health department. It was a month ago, but seemed ages away that morning.

  Inside the building lingered a sweet scent of cinnamon, it came from a room with “kitchen” on a sign by its door. Zahra didn’t find anyone at the office so she sat down on a brown fabric chair with floral print.

  “Zahaa! How you doing, sweetie?” A tall black lady with a large chest walked into the room. She was wearing a white tank and green pants, and her hair was pulled up into a neat bun. She stood in front of Zahra and opened her arms, gesturing a hug.

  Zahra took an unsure step toward the woman. The next thing Zahra knew, she was engulfed in a warm, sweet-smelling hug that lasted a while. The woman spoke as she hugged and squeezed Zahra into her belly and chest. She patted Zahra’s back like one would do to a baby.

  “Honey! It is so good to see yoo! Beth been telling me you doing good, but look at yoo! You doing really good!”

  The hug ended with Zahra slightly out-of-balance when the woman let go of her.

  “Thank you,” Zahra said. She remembered meeting the lady that first day she came, but she could not remember her name or what she did.

  “I am Iris, the secretary! You been here a whole month and I did not see you!”

  “I was working,” Zahra said.

  “Good! Very good! Beth expecting you, sweetheart? I can call her to let her know our Zahaa got here all by herself!” Iris bubbled.

  Something about Iris made Zahra not mind her messing up her name. Iris felt warm and familiar, almost like home, not her mother’s house but Hajji’s living room when they both fell asleep in front of the television and woke up to the sound of prayer from the neighborhood mosque.

  “Yes, Beth is expecting me,” Zahra said. She smiled to Iris who was calling Beth.

  “Yes! She’s here! Yes, I tell her,” Iris commented to the phone.

  Iris told Zahra that Beth was on her way. “Have some cookies, sweetie, I baked them for the bible school kids!” Iris said.

  “Thank you, I can’t eat cookies, they hurt my stomach,” Zahra said.

  “No wonder you such a skinny little thing, darling! It’s all right! We will find something you can eat!”

  Iris asked Zahra about her month in Wichita so far, and Zahra told her about the houses they cleaned and the incident of the lady who didn’t like them and about losing the houses. She told Iris that she was hoping to get a job in Wal-Mart soon. Zahra kept out the detail about Noor selling sex to Jeha’s son-in-law and talking about it to her friend Sami. That reminded Zahra of Noor not coming home, and her face must have showed her worry because Iris asked her what was wrong.

  “I am worried about my friend,” Zahra intoned.

  “Do you want to call her?” Iris asked.

  Zahra used the church phone to call Noor, but Noor’s phone was turned off. Zahra got the mailbox, and she left Noor a message that she was worried about her. Iris patted Zahra on the shoulder and told her that she would pray for her friend.

  “Thank you Iris,” Zahra said, and she meant it.

  She didn’t think God listened to her but if He existed, Iris seemed like the kind of woman He would listen to.

  Beth showed up a half hour later and took Zahra to a computer in another room, where they looked at Wal-Mart job applications. Beth helped fill all the areas that confused Zahra. The application required two references, and Beth told Zahra that she and Iris could be her references. After filling the application, Beth and Zahra said goodbye to Iris, who made Zahra promise to come back and see her.

  “And don’t wait a whole month to do it!” Iris said.

  Zahra promised her that she would be back soon, and she left with Beth in Jelly Belly. On the way back to Diane’s, Beth stopped at McDonalds and got a number one combo. Zahra drank a Sprite while watching old men play chess at the next table.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  When Zahra got to the house, Diane was gone. Her keys were not by her coffee mug on the living room table. The only sound in the house was the humming of the refrigerator and the fan in Diane’s room. There was still no sign of Noor.

  Zahra got her grocery bag from the pantry. She spread some soft cheese on a piece of pita and sat down to eat it. The first bite barely made it past her tightened throat into a cramping stomach. Zahra looked around at the small kitchen, hoping to find an answer.

  She didn’t know Noor’s friends, only heard about them. Diane did not allow the women to have visitors and, besides, they were busy working most of the time. Zahra remembered the name of the hairdresser: Sami, like the name of a kid she went to grade school with.

  She closed her eyes and tried to imagine Sami’s face, the Sami from her childhood who had curly hair and olive skin, big brown eyes and a sly smile. Zahra thought about where that Sami was today—probably married with a handful of kids.

  Zahra wondered if everyone from her childhood had gone on to have a grown-up life besides her. Her accident made time stand still. She stood on the outside and watched people go on with their lives. The only sign that they could see her sitting outside their circle were their expressions and their remarks when they saw her. Most people in her neighborhood heard about the missile attack that almost killed her. The rumors that went around and somehow got back to Zahra were worse than the actual injury.

  People said that Zahra was disfigured from the attack, some said she was paralyzed. Both stories were true. The accident had disfigured her and paralyzed her from participating to life with those people, but as far as they could tell, Zahra still looked the same. Her scars were under her shirt and her schedule of caring for a colostomy was not evident to anyone who d
idn’t know her well.

  Despite looking like any normal young woman from a distance, Zahra was no longer one of the normal people. People knew even before she did that she was a freak, someone who had to hide to avoid pity. The only two people who didn’t seem to realize that Zahra was stuck outside society were Hajji and Mustafa, perhaps because they themselves were outcasts, just like her.

  Zahra hated how people seemed to know that Hajji had lost her mind without even having to talk to her, and that Mustafa was effeminate without ever getting to know him. Zahra saw the way people who didn’t know them looked at Hajji and Mustafa. In her case, it was the people who knew her, or of her, who’s judging eyes penetrated her loose black shirt and exposed her scarred abdomen and her colostomy bag.

  Sami the hairdresser was a faceless man who found them the better paying cleaning jobs. Zahra could not remember his last name or where he worked; she was not sure Noor even mentioned either. Zahra knew that talking to Sami would upset Noor. Anyone worrying about Noor would upset her too, but Zahra was past the point of worry.

  Noor mentioned many times how much she hated when people gossiped about her. Sometimes Zahra wondered why Noor lived with the choices she lived with when she craved privacy. It was hard not to stare at Noor’s red hair, her tall slender body, and large breasts. Until the beginning of Ramadan, Noor always wore tight fitting tanks that were cut low enough to reveal too much chest. Noor acted revolted when men stared but the spring in her step and the backwards flip of her hair which followed said otherwise.

  Zahra felt the pit in her stomach get deeper as she recalled Noor’s pretty face. She knew that Noor was not back because something bad had happened. The worst part of the fear Zahra felt in her dry throat was not knowing where to start looking for Noor, or what to tell people about why Noor left the previous night. Doing nothing about her friend’s disappearance was the only thing worse than explaining the circumstances to strangers in her heavily accented English, which people seemed to struggle to understand.

  Zahra rested her head on the plastic cover with the pink and green pattern on the small breakfast table, she closed her eyes for a few seconds. Noor’s perfume lingered around the kitchen like regret.

  At that moment, Zahra remembered that Noor used to live in an apartment building next to Asia Market and that was where she met Hussein. As hard as she tried, Zahra couldn’t remember the stops to get to the Asian Market. She closed her eyes again, and tried to retrace the last bus trip she did with Noor. She decided to go to the bus stop three blocks from the house and ask someone waiting there about Asia Market. Anyone with a phone could help her figure out the street intersection and then she could find the right buses to get her there.

  Zahra locked the door and started walking. She kept hoping that Noor would be heading back, and she would see her. Zahra thought of all the stories she would tell Noor once she found her; how she took the bus alone and found the church, how she was waiting to hear from Wal-Mart, how she found her own way to Asia Market. Zahra imagined Noor’s expression and her exclamations that would follow the story of that day.

  When Zahra got to the nearest bus stop, she was the only person waiting. She felt the panic in her stomach again. Her plan so far was not going as she imagined it would. She thought about going inside a store and asking. The bus got to the stop and Zahra got on it and asked the driver how to get to Asia Market.

  The driver couldn’t understand Zahra’s accent. Twice he asked her where she was going, and twice she replied “Asia Market.” Everyone on the bus was staring at Zahra and the driver.

  “This bus does not go to Asia Market. Buses stop at intersections, not Asian markets, miss,” the driver explained.

  “I know, but where is it? I am trying to find my friend,” Zahra said.

  “I have no idea where your friend is, miss! You have to find out the streets and then get on the right bus. I don’t have time for this!” he said. His voice was loud and his face angry. He looked at two of his passengers and said, “They come to this country and they can’t understand English! I am not Google Maps!”

  The passengers looked at Zahra, waiting for her to answer the accusations. She turned away and got off the bus.

  There was a gas station down the street. Zahra walked towards it without looking behind her. She opened the door to a chime and felt the cool air inside.

  She thought about how she understood English better than the loud driver, who didn’t know the first thing about her. She wished she could tell him that she has a right to be in America as much as he does, even more than he did. His country made bombs and sold them for money and people like her got injured and ended up somewhere having to learn a new way to live.

  Zahra took a deep breath and pushed her tears back in. She opened the fridge door and grabbed a cold bottle of water, paid for it, and walked back into the midday heat.

  She drank her water on the sidewalk in front of everyone. Noor was not with her to stop her on behalf of Ramadan. She felt mad at Noor, and worried about her all at once.

  She walked back to the bus station and headed to First Baptist this time.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Well look what the cat just dragged in again! Did you forget something, honey?” Iris exclaimed. She laughed and opened her arms for Zahra, who initiated the hug this time.

  Zahra started in. “Noor, my friend, she is not at home yet. I am worried very much for her safety,” Zahra said.

  Iris listened intently and nodded her head. Her expression got progressively more concerned as Zahra told her more.

  Zahra kept out the details of Noor being transgender, and of Hussein having left her for an Egyptian bride that his mother picked for him. She was not sure if telling Iris that would change anything. What mattered was that her friend left the night before, hadn’t come back home yet, and that her phone was dead.

  Iris had Zahra repeat some sentences because she couldn’t understand what Zahra meant. When Iris understood something the second time, after Zahra repeated it, she would typically laugh and say, “Oh yes, yes, yes! I missed that! You did say that!” sounding like an adult who was thrilled to hear a toddler talk and was encouraging them to say more.

  “Should we go looking for your friend, sweetie?” Iris said, her words stretched and sincere.

  Zahra told Iris that they had to go to Asia Market that was the last place she went to with Noor.

  “Let me look this Asian place up, what’s it called, you say?” Iris asked.

  They headed to Asia Market in Iris’ car, which was located at the intersection of Twenty-First and Woodlawn, according to Iris’ phone book. Iris’ car was a white Toyota with an inside that smelled like pine. She told Zahra to roll her window down, because the air conditioning was not working at the moment. When they pulled into the parking lot, Iris said she recognized the place, because she had given rides to people from the refugee program who went there and got their groceries and sometimes walked to the hair salon next door, where some got their hair braided.

  Iris came into the store with Zahra and followed her to the meat case.

  Kazem got up and walked towards Zahra with a big smile.

  “Ahlan, ahlan!” he said with a big smile on his face. His expression and voice trailed off when he realized Zahra was not smiling back.

  “I am looking for Noor. She went to see Hussein last night and has not come home since. I tried calling her, her phone is dead,” Zahra told Kazem in Arabic.

  Kazem looked at Iris to see if she understood what was going on, but Iris was looking at the grocery isle behind him.

  “Wayn Hussein?” Zahra asked Kazem, hoping he would know who Hussein was and where he was.

  “Baddik trouhi hinak?” he asked her.

  Zahra nodded and Kazem told her he would take her to Hussein’s apartment, but couldn’t leave the meat section right away. He explained that tomorrow was Eid, and that it would be at least another couple hours before he could step away.

  Sure
ly enough, a short heavy woman came towards them and had a list of different kinds of meats she wanted. Kazem glanced at Zahra in a “see?!” expression, and got busy cutting the meat on the block. The customer quickly realized that Zahra and Iris were not waiting for their meat order and scanned them with curious eyes. Her long shapeless dress covered most of her and was the color of a cloudy day. It matched her skin and the headscarf she wore, her monochromatic tights showed just above her ankle and blended into plain dusty shoes. The woman reminded Zahra of the insects that blend with tree bark to avoid getting eaten by birds.

  Iris smiled to the lady and said, “Hi!” The lady looked Iris up and down and turned her looks away after mumbling something that sounded more like “hhhh.”

  “Come on, explain to me what’s on those shelves!” Iris said to Zahra and gently pushed Zahra away from the butcher department. Zahra reluctantly walked with Iris, who said, “We be right here when you got a minute,” to Kazem. Iris smiled once more to the customer, who now looked five hundred times more curious to figure out what was happening.

  “He said he needs two hours,” Zahra told Iris.

  “No, he don’t. I will go talk to the man upfront and explain we don’t got all day to find that poor girl.”

  When Iris said “explain” it sounded like “ssssplayn,” and Zahra nodded.

  Kazem got into Iris’ car with both women and showed them the way to Hussein’s apartment. It was just down the street, like Noor said. Noor had told Zahra about the early days of her romance with Hussein. When had he been Noor’s neighbor, he watched her walk to the bus stop down the street every day. Iris asked Zahra if she needed her to walk to Hussein’s apartment with her. Zahra shook her head, “no.”

  “I be right here, darling.” Zahra saw worry in the brown of Iris’ eyes and the gentle nod she gave her.

  Zahra and Kazem took one flight of stairs and he pointed to a door that looked no different than a bedroom door, with a metal number twenty-one on it.