When the Apricots Bloom

by Gina Wilkinson

  “Khalid is waiting in our car.” Rania grabbed a pashmina scarf from the hall closet and herded her out the front door. “Please go and introduce yourself while I finish locking up.”

  “We should split up.” Huda’s heart thumped with each step across the cobblestones. “I’ll take the Abu Ghraib expressway. You take Urdun Street.”

  In the Land Cruiser, Huda and Ally waited in silence as the Volvo pulled away from the curb in front of them. A flash of yellow moved in the rearview mirror. Huda watched the reflection of a long, low sedan sail through the cross street behind them. It was a Chevy, not an Oldsmobile—but something about the driver’s profile made Huda’s heart jerk in her chest. She put the Land Cruiser into gear and jammed her foot on the gas.

  “Careful!” Ally clutched the dash.

  Huda turned right at the first corner, then right again. In her mind she saw the driver of the Chevy doing the same, drawing ever closer. Ally glanced over her shoulder.

  “Did you see something?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “This is insane.” Ally kneaded her temples. “I should never have agreed to this.”

  High walls and locked gates flashed by in a blur. Huda wrenched the wheel. The Land Cruiser bounced through a trash-strewn alley.

  “What did the man you saw earlier look like?” Huda grit her teeth as they hit a pothole. “Did you see his face?”

  “He was about my age. He had dark hair, dark eyes, a fat mustache.”

  “That could be anyone.”

  “He looked familiar.” Ally twisted about. “Actually, he looked like one of the men who trailed me to the embassy. Remember? It was right before I hired Abdul Amir.”

  “Stay calm,” said Huda. “We just need to stick to our plan.”

  She rolled to a stop at a broken traffic signal—slowly, obediently, like a loyal citizen should—then she turned the wheel and accelerated toward the Abu Ghraib expressway. Ally closed her eyes and clutched her seat belt at her chest. Huda hoped she was praying for them.

  * * *

  The soldier swaggered toward the Land Cruiser. Two more soldiers watched from the sandbagged checkpoint, skinny young boys like him, with Kalashnikovs dangling at their bony hips.

  “Stay calm,” whispered Huda.

  She lowered the window. A hot, grainy wind swept into the cabin and ruffled her hair.

  “As-salaam alaikum.” She smiled at the soldier. “We’re with the Australian embassy. The deputy ambassador’s wife is making a visit to Jordan.”

  The soldier stared at Ally, eyes wandering up and down.

  “Australian, did you say? Where’s her identification?”

  Huda flipped open the glove box, removed Ally’s passport and travel permit, and passed the documents through the window. The young man snatched them from her hand and sauntered back to the guard post.

  Huda raised the window and turned up the air-conditioning. They’d been pulled over at two other checkpoints, but both times the soldiers had been older men who remembered the value of discipline and common courtesy—or if not, they knew it wasn’t wise to mess with anyone in a big expensive vehicle, carrying papers stamped with the Foreign Ministry’s seal. Huda peeked at the young men at the guard post. They were a different sort, unpredictable. They jostled about, sniggering, passing papers and permits back and forth like trading cards.

  The young soldier exited the guard post, cocky, rolling his shoulders and hips. The others followed. They reminded Huda of scrappy desert dogs creeping toward a camel, hoping to get in a bite before they got kicked. The first soldier, the alpha dog, strode toward the Land Cruiser.

  “Boys, guns, and testosterone.” Ally eyed their approach. “It’s a dangerous mix.”

  Huda lowered the window. The burning wind rushed in again. She extended her palm for the papers.

  “Get out.” The alpha dog yanked on the door handle. It was locked but he kept yanking. “Get out, I said.”

  “Why?” Huda recoiled. “What’s wrong?”

  “Unlock the door and get out. Now.”

  Alarm flashed in Ally’s eyes.

  “What did he say? Is he telling us to get out of the car?”

  “Stay here,” said Huda. “Let me handle this.”

  She unlocked the door and slid out onto the highway’s dusty shoulder. The soldier was taller than she’d realized, and the sun pouring over his shoulder stung her eyes. A truck rumbled by, wheels churning up dust and exhaust fumes. The desert wind gathered it all up and sent it whistling back toward Baghdad along with a million grains of sand.

  “How can I help you?” Huda wanted to sound calm and in control, but she had to shriek over the traffic and the wind. A line of vehicles snaked toward the checkpoint. Were Abu Issa and the Bolt Cutter out there, waiting to swoop in? What about Abdul Amir? Had he changed his mind? Was he hunting them too?

  “The deputy ambassador’s wife has all the correct travel permits,” Huda told the soldier. “There shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “What about you?”

  “Me?”

  “I want to see your travel permit.”

  “I don’t need one. A driver from the embassy in Jordan is meeting us at the border crossing. He’ll take her to Amman and I will return to Baghdad.”

  Alpha Dog’s lip curled back in a sneer.

  “Since when do women work as drivers? That’s a man’s job.” He cast a sly glance at his two sidekicks. “Just like a soldier is a real man’s job.”

  The soldiers smirked and slunk closer. Their guns clattered. Alpha Dog spat a blob of phlegm near Huda’s feet. Get back in the car! a voice inside her screamed. Go home and beg Abdul Amir’s forgiveness before it’s too late.

  Huda took a deep breath, straightened her spine, and tried to reproduce Rania’s commanding presence.

  “Our beloved president has been at the forefront of equality for the last twenty years.” She glared at the soldiers like they were Khalid and Bakr skipping school. “You should know your own country’s history better than that. The president has said that every woman has a role to play in the development of our glorious nation. This is the wish of the president himself, President Saddam Hussein.” The words hit them like a slap to the face. The three young men shied away. Huda pressed on, wielding the president’s name like a bludgeon.

  “Our leader, Saddam Hussein, has granted women some of the highest positions in government. The minister of education is a woman. The chief scientific officer for National Security is too. So why should I, a loyal Iraqi woman just like them, not be fit to drive the car of a foreigner? Do you think an Iraqi woman is not good enough for that? Do you not believe the words of our great president, Saddam Hussein, when he says Iraqis are the equal of any nation?”

  “Okay, okay,” muttered the alpha soldier. “Don’t get worked up.”

  “I want the documents now.” Huda thrust out her palm. “They have been signed and stamped at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. If you have a problem, I am sure the officials there would be interested to know of it. What is your name and rank, young man?”

  Traffic at the checkpoint backed up. Men hung out car windows and cursed. Horns honked.

  “You’re lucky that I’m too busy to bother myself with the likes of you.” Huda snatched the documents back. “Now get back to work, before I change my mind and report you.”

  She returned quickly to the car, knowing the presence of the shiny embassy Land Cruiser would be noted by the others in the queue. It would swiftly find the ears of the local mukhabarat, before traveling on to God knows where. Abu Ghraib was not far away. Perhaps whispers would surf the gritty wind, past the razor wire, and find their way to the darkest cell—the cell where they locked prisoners who once dreamed they could defy the regime. No, Huda told herself, as the sun bit the thin skin on her cheek. Traitors like them were already long dead.

  * * *

  Huda found Khalid on the shore of the lake, a mile or so from the derelict Hotel Habbaniyah. He had his
back to her, his toes in the water, and his hands raised high above his head. He swayed slightly as the breeze washed over him. No one else was visible on the long stretch of beach. Far out on the enormous lake, the fishing fleet was reduced to a few squiggles. Huda slipped off her shoes and padded across the sand. Khalid spun about, grinning.

  “Mom, finally, you’re here. Did you pack a towel for me? Where’s Mrs. Wilson and Mrs. Mansour?” He kicked at the water and sent spray flying back toward the lake. “What about Hanan? Is she going to swim?”

  “Hanan’s mother has to go back to Baghdad. And Mrs. Wilson and Hanan are waiting for us in the Land Cruiser.”

  “Why? We just got here. I’m not ready to go back to Baghdad.”

  Huda tried to take a calming breath, but the brackish air lodged in her throat.

  “We’re not going back to Baghdad,” she said.

  “Good, I was worried for a moment.” He threw his arms wide and inhaled. “Because I could get used to the smell of freedom.”

  “Freedom?”

  “Freedom from math class, anyway.” He whooped and kicked the water again. “Bakr is going to die of envy.”

  He swung toward her, face shining.

  “What is it, Mom?” The joy in Khalid’s eyes flickered, then slowly disappeared. “What’s happened? How come you look so sad?”

  “This is going to be a shock.” She reached for his hands. “We’re not going back to Baghdad.” A flock of water birds rose shrieking from the lake and flapped across the water. Huda took a deep breath. “We’re going to Jordan.”

  Khalid blinked.

  “Jordan?”

  “Yes, and Hanan is coming too.”

  “What about our picnic? The swimming?”

  “I don’t want to scare you, but we have to leave Iraq.” Huda squeezed his hands. “Today. Now.”

  Shock ballooned in Khalid’s eyes.

  “Is this a joke?”

  “No, my son. We’re going to stay in Jordan until it’s safe for us to return.”

  Khalid pulled free of her grip.

  “This is crazy. Does Dad know about this?”

  “Your dad agrees that we can’t stay. It’s not safe.”

  “This makes no sense. We are Iraqis. We belong here.” Khalid stamped his foot. Muddy water splashed against Huda’s shins. “Is this because you’re working for the mukhabarat? Are you having regrets? Are you running away to mend your conscience?”

  “That’s not it.”

  “I’m not leaving my country just because you sold out to the mukhabarat.”

  “Listen carefully, my son.” Huda knew the beach was deserted, but she couldn’t stop herself from scanning the long crescent of sand. “We’re leaving because they want to put you in the fedayeen.”

  “The fedayeen? Me?” Khalid’s voice cracked. He lurched away from the water’s edge.

  For a moment, Huda thought he was going to bolt into the scrub.

  “I can’t join the fedayeen. They make every cadet shoot a prisoner in the head. If you don’t, they shoot you instead.” He opened his mouth wide, like a small child about to wail.

  “This is why we’re going to Jordan.” Huda tried to draw him into a hug. “You’ll be safe there.”

  Khalid pushed her away.

  “This is your fault. If not for you, the mukhabarat wouldn’t even know my name.” He clutched at his dark hair. “Is this some sort of sick reward for all your dirty work? Men like Abu Issa and his stupid partner probably have wet dreams about joining the fedayeen.”

  “Khalid! Watch your mouth.”

  “Why? If you had such high morals, you wouldn’t be a mukhabarat spy.”

  The wind dragged a tear from Huda’s eye.

  “I had no choice.”

  “You could have refused, Mom.” Khalid’s face twisted in disgust. “And now it’s me who has to pay the price.”

  He stumbled away from her. Huda wiped her eyes and followed him to the parking lot.

  * * *

  The Land Cruiser rumbled away from the lake, kicking up a trail of dust. Huda watched Rania dwindle in the rearview mirror. She stood tall and waved fiercely. Huda’s throat ached. Rania had always been brave, rarely allowing anyone to see a chink in her elegant armor. But Huda knew that as soon as they rounded the corner, she’d slide onto the hard-packed earth and weep her heart out.

  “Your mom will join you in Jordan soon.” Huda prayed that was true. She reached behind her seat and patted Hanan’s knee. The girl hiccupped wretchedly. “Trust me. It’ll be okay.”

  “Trust you?” Khalid snorted. “We’re running away from our own country.”

  “Please, let’s all settle down.” Huda gripped the wheel as the Land Cruiser bucked over the ruts in the dirt track. A flock of birds burst from a stand of salt cedar. Khalid glowered as they squawked toward the sky.

  “This is all your fault, Mom.”

  Ally glanced over her shoulder. Huda didn’t know how much she’d understood, but Khalid’s anger needed no translation.

  “Khalid, your mom only wants to keep you safe. Hanan’s mom is doing the same.”

  “It’s not the same,” said Khalid, in schoolboy English. “Hanan’s mom is not a dirty spy.”

  “Khalid!” gasped Huda.

  “Come on.” Ally shook her head. “That’s not fair.”

  He slapped his palm against his forehead.

  “Do you not understand?”

  “Khalid, stop it.” Huda tried to catch his eye in the rearview mirror. “No one wants to hear this.”

  “I think Mrs. Wilson would like to hear that the mukhabarat pay you to watch her.” He hunched his shoulders like it was winter. “She should know you are not really her friend.”

  Ally sighed like the breeze on the lake.

  “I know you’re shocked.” She swiveled toward him. “I was too, believe me. I felt like a fool. I was angry. Real angry.” She paused and glanced at Huda. “But the truth is, if I was in your mom’s position, I would have done the same thing.”

  Huda winced.

  “Thank you.”

  She reached across and squeezed Ally’s hand. She wondered, did the young woman realize that even now, if she had no other choice, she’d give her up to save her son? Her DNA was curled inside Khalid’s cells. That trumped everything: fear of the mukhabarat, greed, even a true and loyal friend like the one seated beside her. As Huda steered the Land Cruiser past a hedge of salt cedar, shame tightened its fingers around her throat.

  “Please,” she said, “don’t feel that you have to defend me to—”

  She slammed her foot on the brake. An old yellow Chevy blocked the track. The Bolt Cutter was at the wheel. He caught Huda’s eye and laughed, teeth flashing in the dark cabin.

  Ally pressed her hand to her mouth. “That’s the guy I saw this morning.”

  “Mom, do something.” Khalid’s voice squeaked. “Don’t let him hurt us.”

  “Everyone, stay calm.” Huda’s fingernails dug into the wheel. “Remember, we’re on a day trip to Lake Habbaniyah.”

  The Bolt Cutter slid out of the Chevy and lumbered toward the Land Cruiser, smirking like a glutton served a platter of steak. Huda slid her foot toward the accelerator. Should she run him down? The Bolt Cutter laughed and tugged a revolver from his pocket, as if he’d read her mind.

  Huda shot a glance at Ally. She was pale as bone. In the back seat, Hanan huddled in a ball, clutching her mother’s scarf. Khalid’s eyes bulged, the whites too bright, pupils wide as the lake. The Bolt Cutter would see right through their day-tripper tale. Even if Hanan’s weeping didn’t give them away, the animal in him would sniff out their fear.

  Where was Abu Issa? she wondered. She’d never dealt with the Bolt Cutter on his own. Panic pounded at her chest.

  “Ally, I’m leaving the keys in the ignition.” She reached for her door. “If anything happens to me, drive straight to the highway and keep going. Fifteen miles from the border, remember, make that detour. The compass is
in the glove box.”

  “Wait.” Ally twisted her wedding ring from her finger and pressed it into Huda’s palm. “Take this. Maybe if you give it to him, he’ll leave us alone.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Ally nodded.

  “Mom, don’t go.” Khalid lurched toward the front seat. “Don’t do it.”

  “I love you, my darling.” She touched his cheek. “Never doubt that.”

  Huda slid out of the Land Cruiser and hurried toward the Bolt Cutter.

  “Well, well.” The Bolt Cutter’s gun swung lazily at his side. “It’s my lucky day.”

  “What are you doing?” She frowned. “You’ve frightened the diplomat’s wife. She thinks you’re going to rob us.”

  “Rob you?” The Bolt Cutter laughed. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

  He tried to catch her eye, but she kept her gaze on his feet. She didn’t want to get his blood up.

  “Where’s Abu Issa? Does he know you’re here?”

  “The old man’s got no idea. This is, how do you say, off-the-books.” The Bolt Cutter snorted. “All Abu Issa cares about is his precious paperwork and his goddamn regulations.”

  He flexed his fingers and swapped the gun from his right hand to his left. Huda followed its passage back and forth, dark snout gleaming in the sun.

  “Abu Issa is nothing but a spineless bureaucrat.” The Bolt Cutter stepped closer. “Don’t you realize, Huda, I’m the real mukhabarat?”

  Huda tried not to tremble.

  “I’m supposed to be taking the diplomat’s wife sightseeing. Now she thinks we’re being robbed. How am I going to explain this? You should go before you make the situation worse.”

  The Bolt Cutter squinted at the Land Cruiser.

  “I can see the foreign slut sitting up front, but who’s that in the back seat? Is it your friend Rania Mansour?” He peered over her shoulder. “Or is that her sexy little daughter? And that’s Khalid cuddled up next to her, right?”

  Huda stiffened.

  “I thought if I brought the kids along, Ally would be more relaxed and feel more comfortable opening up to me.” Her heart thumped like a mallet against her ribs. “But she’s not going to feel relaxed now that a man with a gun has blocked our way. I’m going to tell her you’re a security guard from the old hotel and you got carried away. I’ll tell her you’re sorry for the mistake.”