by Tom Corbett
“Wow, I hardly know you Deena. You are a remarkable young woman. If you don’t mind, I have another question for you.”
“Please.”
“How to put this?” Chris struggled for the right words. “What about the girls you adopted and brought back?”
“That is the biggest issue for me.” She sighed, a hint of pain in her eyes. “At the least, I am comforted by the fact that their life here is infinitely better than it would have been. I will not walk away from them, totally. Karen loves them, as do her parents, and Kay…” She stopped.
“Kay has told me, I know.”
“The girls will be loved, I have no doubt about that. But this is not without issues, I hope they never come to hate me. Still,” she said quickly as if to escape an unpleasant topic, “I will feel more freedom to shape the life I want. I love what I can do in London, on a large scale, about educating girls but I need to stay connected to those girls out there who have little hope. I need to walk among their villages, sit in their classrooms, watch their faces as they learn new things. The wonder in their eyes is brilliant. Nothing matches those magical moments. The thing is…I have not worked this out yet, but I want to go between these two worlds. That may be selfish of me and I don’t think that the life I see before me would be fair to any partner. I suspect I will go through life alone but that does not bother me.”
“Really? Do you believe…”
“Yes, I know you are thinking I am responding emotionally. Perhaps I am.” Deena was clearly struggling to find the right words. “People look at me and think I have an easy life. I know the world finds me attractive and thus assumes I have no challenges. But they are wrong of course. Inside, everything churns all the time. Why can I not be an ordinary female, grab some man and grow fat eating sweets while he supports me? Why do I feel so different?”
“Because you are better than most others. You do know we are alike in some respects.”
“What, you are a secret homosexual?”
Oh, no,” he said quickly, “not that. I mean that we are alike in being driven. You don’t think I have not kicked my rear more than once for not taking the easy road? I could have led a life of debauched leisure luxuriating on the Costa del Sol as a hedonist, my biggest worries being which five-star restaurant to dine in that night and which gorgeous woman to pursue that day. Could never have done that, just could not. You know, people struggle for all kinds of reasons. Some face awful circumstances in life, some simply do not have the wherewithal to reach their simplest dreams, still others are just dedicated to hating their life no matter what. But some, the most unfortunate of all, are doomed to struggle precisely because they have both talent and opportunities and, most of all, a sense of purpose. They are perhaps the most damned of all. You, and your sister, see a world in pain and therefore must do something about it. That is your curse, your private and personal demon.”
“Why a curse?” Deena asked.
“Because then you cannot grow fat eating sweets while leading a conventional life. Nothing is easy, and these are things we bring on ourselves. Everyone in my circle is like that, some more than others. We are all driven, obsessed by these larger purposes. You know, Amar has often taken me out to look at the night sky and the stars. She tells me all these wonderful facts about the immensity of the universe, probably in the hope that I will be brought to earth by my insignificance in this vast, strange universe.”
“Does that work?”
“Never, some of us are hopeless, beyond any hope of being cured. You and Azita are among those so afflicted I fear.” Then, he smiled. “I want to confess something to you. When I first stumbled upon you and Azita, I did not see the promise in you. My bad. I yet regret not formally adopting you, but we thought of you as a legal adult even then. I should have looked into it.”
“Please don’t apologize.” Deena looked uncomfortable.
“Keep one thing in mind. You will do great things, my dear, great things. Of that I am now sure. And what I label a curse, that is something none of us should regret nor reject. As you struggle with things, never forget that you have Amar and I. Adoption or no, we think of you as a daughter. I mean that.”
“Thank you.” she managed to get out.
“But damn it,” Chris said in a lighter vice, “we do agonize a lot, that is for darn sure.”
She laughed in a self-conscious way. “I know you say that to all the girls, that they are destined for great things. Still, I cannot for the life of me believe it worked. Still, I hope you are right, I hope I have…” Then she trailed off before shifting into a stronger voice. “However, if I were you, I would not be concerned with my fate. I would be more worried about what your daughter is doing to that poor boy in her bedroom.”
“Oh God, should I do something?” he asked as if the situation had just occurred to him.
“Aha,” Deena exclaimed with some glee, “some father you are. And no, leave them alone. To get to the bedroom, you would have to get past me first. Amar and Kay have trained me where to hit you.” She waived a clenched fist in his direction.
“Okay, I give. You probably know best. By the way, just what is the deal with Zita and Ahmad?”
Deena hesitated. “Well…that night of the accident, we met with Ahmad and his father, Abdul, at a restaurant. To my shock, Azita came right out and said…”
Chris looked perplexed. “Said what?”
“That she intended to marry Ahmad and they would return to help save their homeland.”
Now Chris looked stricken, to Deena’s dismay. “Perhaps I should have stayed silent, do you not like Ahmad?”
“Not that, I hardly know the boy. It is her intention to return home that saddens me.”
Deena smiled at him. “A wise man told me that you cannot take out what God has put in.”
“Yeah, I know that guy,” Chris replied and smiled grimly. “He is a total idiot. One last thing, Deena. That thing about walking between cultures, between worlds. I have been thinking about that a lot, an awful lot.”
She looked at him, waiting for him to explain. But it was clear he would not.
The young man and woman sat on her bed. Azita bravely fought to conceal the discomfort that never left her when she moved in the slightest.
“Azita, being with you here is hard for me, which is not the only thing that is hard.” The young man said with a distinctly forlorn look on his face.
“Aha,” she laughed, “you are bored with me already.” Then his pun reached her. “Oh, you are such a naughty boy.”
“Not so naughty I think.” He joked while breaking into a sardonic smile. “I wish…I wish. Alas, Allah is toying with me. He has brought me close to you, but I have never touched…we have never. I should not go there, the thoughts in my head are not those of a good Muslim boy.”
“As if you would know what a good Muslim boy is.” She leaned over, wincing with pain at the effort, and kissed him on the cheek before pulling back quickly. “Not now, here. I want to, desperately, you must know that. But I want privacy and a body not wracked with pain and looking so terrible.”
“Can I look?”
“Look at what? You have seen women before, many if the rumors spread by you are to be believed.” She expressed mild bemusement.
“Not that, silly. I want to see your bruises, maybe I can kiss them and make it all better.”
Azita scoffed. “That is just about the worst pass any boy has ever made on me.”
“I bet there have been many…passes that is.” He looked uncertain. “Wow, I am jealous.”
“Good.” But then she struggled up and partially disrobed so that he might look at her backside. “Happy?”
“Not really, your backside does look awful,” he replied as he bent over and kissed near the center of the still-obscene discoloring. The he realized he may have been too honest and tried to recover. “But it looks not so bad, really, even this turns me on.”
“Pervert.” She pulled away from him but was laughing.
“What am I to do with you?”
“That, I believe, has been decided.”
“Oh my God.” Dismay came over her face.
“Wait, you have not changed your mind, have you?”
“Oh no, I want you more than ever. That kiss did work miracles. Well, at least it did not make things worse. No, I just remembered. I blurted everything out in front of your father. What was I thinking? What must he think of me?”
“Aha,” Ahmad smiled, “you are a brazen girl. I thought for sure I would have to call a cardiac specialist to restart his heart, and mine.”
“Oh, I am so ashamed. My sister was so angry with me. That is why I am here, like this. We fought after leaving the restaurant and I ran after her, not looking for the traffic.”
The young man shifted closer to her kissed her lightly on the lips. “It really was not bad at all. Good thing he knew your family and, oddly enough, loves you. Bad taste in women runs in the male half of my family, it must be a genetic weakness. In truth, my father is delighted with the thought of us as a couple, though he keeps warning me I will have my hands full with you.”
Azita kissed him back and then lay her head on his shoulder. “He is right, you should pay attention to his wisdom. I will not be easy.”
“I know,” he said without hesitation. “He told me later that night, that when he brought me around to your father’s clinic, he had dreams of an arranged marriage between us.”
Azita broke into an astonished laugh. “No way!”
“It is true, I swear by Allah. But I don’t think your father was enthusiastic. I must not have looked like a catch back then. And Pamir was wise enough to know that no one would tell you whom to marry. You were willful even then.”
“Dear Ahmad, I still am, that same willful girl. That has not changed. You do realize that, don’t you?”
“Yes…I…” He did not get to continue.
“Don’t just agree. I am serious. Think about what you would be getting. I would be no typical Muslim wife. I don’t even know how to cook. I am a terrible bargain.”
Ahmad smiled gently. “Don’t you think I have considered everything? I know what I would be getting.”
“One more thing,” she pushed on, “I may want to go back home…to help. That is not some idle sentiment. I am yet struggling with that but...are you sure about me, Ahmad, really sure?”
“Azita, I have never been more certain of anything in my life.” Ahmad kissed her head. “We will work everything out, as long as we are together. Of that I have no doubt. It is not that I am a believer in miracles, or divine inspiration. Still, I am certain of us. This was meant to be. Remember, in the green at Oxford when I finally worked up the courage to approach you?”
“Of course, you were fortunate I did not have any pepper spray with me.”
“Well, you hugged me, very briefly, when you finally realized who I was. I had fantasized about you for years, but in some idealized way. You were a mere abstraction. That touch, so innocent, sent a shock though me. I knew in that moment this was meant to be.”
The young woman looked at him and then sighed deeply. “It is now official, I am hopelessly in love with you. It is good that my body will not work right now, or your virtue surely would be lost.” She strained to lean forward and kissed him deeply on the lips. “May Allah have mercy on my soul. Unfortunately, I doubt Allah can save you since I fear you are totally lost.”
People started to arrive from their various Christmas Day destinations. Chris looked carefully at Atle and Carlotta and saw evidence that long-simmering lust had been sated. Perhaps he should have a policy about sex among co-workers? Then he laughed at himself - like that would work. Besides, Atle worked for him but Carlotta worked for Karen. Technically speaking, they probably would not be breaking any workplace rules, if such had existed. Kat and Kay returned in a bubbly mood with even more packages. Where in God’s name can you shop on Christmas Day, isn’t that illegal? he thought to himself. Josef had arrived with his wife. Chris would have to introduce himself to her. Then he noticed April Song, and Pamela Stuart, and a few others from the Madison-based staff. Chris gave them time in London as a seasonal bonus. They were good, damned good. Besides, he would find a way to make Kat pay the bill. He noticed April would glance in his direction and smile. Was Kat right, did she have a crush on him? Wasn’t he old enough to be her father? Then he noticed Karen, Amar, and his mother standing by the tree, talking away as if they had all been lifelong friends. Occasionally, the three would look toward him, share some words, and break into laughter. Finally, he turned to Deena who eagerly watched the display of merriment before her.
“Do me a favor. Go and get your sister, or at least break up whatever disgusting things they are doing. Her absence will be missed momentarily and Amar for sure will seek her out. I don’t want her walking in on them mid…you know what.”
Deena burst into a short laugh. “You are such a child. You can say sex or coitus.”
“Say it? I don’t even want to think it.”
Deena arose. Before heading off to Azita’s bedroom, she quickly took Chris’s hand. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He was perplexed.
“For this chat,” Deena replied. “We never have talked like this. I can see why my sister adores you.”
Chris broke into his crooked smile. “I bet you also say that to all the guys, oops, guess you wouldn’t. Besides, she adores me since I am, guess what, adorable.”
Deena rolled her eyes and quickly made her way through the crowd as his mother walked over and took her spot next to him. “Christopher, I am so glad you talked me into coming over here. I am sure Beverly would have been great company for me, and your childhood friends also offered me company, the Jacksons.” Then she hesitated. “Can I admit something shameful? I was very uncomfortable around them when you were young.”
“Why?” Chris asked while knowing the answer.
“Son, they were not…our kind.”
“Did you think they would steal the silverware? Father did.”
“Now, be kind to an old woman.”
“Sorry.” And he was, kicking himself for his uncontrollable wit.
“But I am afraid you are right. I was afraid of them, I think. It seems silly now, but I had so little experience in the world.”
“Mother, you have no need to apologize.”
“Yes, I do,” she insisted. “I now realize how much you learned from that family, and how much I failed as a mother.”
“Please…”
“No, let an old woman talk. Even when I first heard that you married a girl from India, suddenly I was flummoxed, and a bit discombobulated. I knew nothing about that place except that it was crowded and…colorful. But she is wonderful. Every time I talk with her, I come away realizing that it was she who married down in class.”
“Mother, was that a joke?”
His mother smiled. “I wish it were. But when I think of all those girls you brought around when young. Oh, some of them gave me nightmares, some struck me as lacking in class.”
Chris was tempted to say that was the point in selecting such girls but decided to be straight. “Yes, those were not my finest hours.”
“I so feared you would turn out to be like your father. But you, all of you in fact, turned out totally different. I thank God every day for that, every single day.”
“Now it is your turn to listen to me. I have thought long and hard about why we all turned out so different, just the opposite of Father. I suppose each of us, Kat and Kay and me, has a different story to tell but there is one common denominator.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You, you are the common denominator. Whatever was inside you, no matter what you were thinking, you were always kind to everyone, no matter their culture or color or class.”
“But that is just being a good Christian,” she protested.
Chris wanted to comment that those professing to be Christian often were the most clueless
about Christ’s teachings but let it pass. “You were kind, mother, you always had empathy for others no matter how uncomfortable you might have been. You could not deny your own culture and upbringing but something inside helped you rise above it. At your core, you were kind and curious. In fact, I am totally convinced that all of us children inherited your traits. I believe you bequeathed to us what defines each of us. We all are not only very intelligent, Father is at least that, but also imaginative, inquisitive, and have large hearts. Those traits we did not get from Father, but from you. I want to thank you, mother, deeply. I know my sisters feel the same.”
“Christopher...” She wanted to say more but tears were forming in her eyes and she looked away. “I still wonder where you got that awful sense of humor of yours, certainly not from your father or me.” Suddenly, she arose. “Oh, there is Azita. I must see how she is doing.” With that, his mother walked across the room while wiping her eyes away.
At that moment, Chris’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the number and answered right away. “Ricky,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”
“Same to you, buddy. We are at mother’s house. For some totally unfathomable reason, she wants to talk to you. Before I hand the phone over, how is my lovely spouse?”
“She is great, but one thing confuses me.”
“What?” There was a hint of concern in Ricky’s voice.
“She keeps bringing strange men back with her and claims they are distant cousins. But I know all the cousins, there aren’t that many…”
“You are a flaming asshole, know that - great, mother is now yelling at me for being nasty to you. I think she prefers you to me. Then again, she doesn’t know you like we do. Here she is.”