The Legacy of Lost Things

by Aida Zilelian

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Cecile asked.

  “No,” Araxi said.

  “What now?”

  “I don’t know,” Araxi said.

  “The officer said there’s a bus station not far from here. I have enough money to get us—”

  “I’m not going back,” Araxi said.

  “You’re not going back?” Cecile stood up. “What do you expect us to do now? What is it going to take to get you to go home?”

  “I don’t want to go back and you’ve known that all along!” Araxi yelled. She was glad the park was empty.

  “Maybe things will be different,” Cecile said, knowing as she spoke the words that her reasoning was feeble.

  “Oh God, Cec, you sound so naïve and stupid,” Araxi said. “Even I know nothing will be different. Maybe for a little while, but it will go back to the way it was. They both will. And you’ll get to go off to Brown or wherever it is they’ll want you to go and I’ll be left alone. Again. I’m always left.”

  “I haven’t left you,” Cecile said. Her voice was soft and sweet, saccharine.

  “But you did back in St. Louis,” Araxi said. “And I wish you’d leave now. I’m not going to San Francisco.”

  The words hung in the air like an accusation. The evening before she had overheard Cecile tell Kyle about her plan to get her as far as San Francisco, that she had been calling her parents throughout the trip.

  “Don’t talk her into staying,” Cecile had said to Kyle. “She needs to go back home.”

  “I can’t believe you’re going to keep lying to her and set her up like that,” Kyle had said. His voice was sharp and annoyed.

  “I have no choice,” Cecile had said.

  Neither one of them thought they would find themselves in Arizona sitting in an empty park with no car and silence between them. Cecile was quiet, unable to bear the weight of Araxi’s words.

  “This was a joyride for you,” Araxi said. “You were bored and wanted something different. You know I didn’t leave for the same reasons. I’m not going back,” she said. “Let’s walk to that bus station the cop was telling us about.”

  Cecile took her things off the ground and slung them over her shoulder as if she had lost a very long and hard game, the defeat and shame heavy and penetrating.

  There was a bus headed east. Cecile bought her ticket and the two stood waiting for the bus to open its doors. Three hours ago they had been in the car quarreling. They were both stunned by how abruptly everything had changed.

  “It’s going to be a long trip,” Araxi said.

  “For you too,” Cecile said.

  A line had formed outside of the bus doors.

  The two girls looked at each other, their faces blank. Cecile, unable to contain herself, started crying. It was the first time she had cried during the entire trip.

  “Bye,” Araxi said, watching as the line moved and Cecile approached the steps.

  “Bye,” Cecile said.

  Araxi didn’t wait for Cecile to board the bus. She turned her back and started walking towards the park. Moments later the bus doors closed and Cecile sat watching her friend walk away, her figure shrinking in the distance as the bus made its way back home.

  Tamar

  The screeching sound of the plane as the wheels thudded onto the tarmac jostled Tamar from her sleep. After hours of trying to drift off she had finally managed to do so and only an hour later she was awake. The seatbelt sign eventually turned off, and the passengers around her abruptly stood up to get their belongings. Tamar sat and waited, unwilling to move at their frenzied pace, especially since her sisters and their husbands were waiting to pick her up outside the terminal.

  She had sat on the plane for hours unable to shake the image of her mother-in-law being placed in a large body bag and zipped up by the paramedics. It had been too late by the time she had run upstairs; Sophie was sitting in the hallway crying and Araxi was in the bathroom kneeling over Anoush’s body, holding her hand. Fear and anger had driven her to grab Araxi and shake her. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” she had screamed, digging her fingers into the girl’s shoulders. “You should have waited for me!” She ran and called the ambulance. They pronounced her dead within seconds of examining her.

  The plane was almost empty and one of the attendants was walking through the airplane, throwing stray cups into a garbage bag.

  “Hello?” she said to Tamar.

  Tamar rose from her seat. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was about to get my things.”

  “Are feeling sick?” the woman asked. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

  “No,” Tamar said. “Thank you.”

  She hoisted the carry-on she had brought with her and walked out. Anahid and Shoushan and their husbands were waiting for her.

  “What happened?” Anahid asked. “We thought you had missed your flight. We watched everyone come out and didn’t see you.”

  “I felt nauseous,” she lied. “I had to sit for a while.”

  They accosted her with the usual questions, not even allowing her time to reacclimate herself after the long plane ride. Their husbands didn’t say much as one opened the car door for her and the other put her suitcase in the trunk.

  “How are things with Levon?” Anahid asked.

  “Fine, I guess,” Tamar said, looking out the window and only half-listening.

  “Is he angry you left?” Shoushan asked. “It was sudden the way you left. Even we were surprised.”

  “He’s fine,” she said vaguely.

  “How about the girls? They must be upset you’re not there now that Anoush is gone,” one of them asked.

  “They seemed fine,” Tamar said. “I’m sure they’ll enjoy the freedom.”

  “Who’s going to look after them while Levon works?”

  “Araxi is a big girl,” Tamar said. “She’s almost seventeen. She can look after Sophie. It’s summer so they’re at home. I don’t have to worry about them not doing their homework.”

  “I’m sure Levon is upset.” Tamar had stopped paying attention to who was speaking.

  “His mother died,” Tamar said. “I imagine he is upset.”

  “About you leaving,” one of them said, and judging from the frustration in her voice, Tamar could tell it was Shoushan.

  “He doesn’t care,” she said. “He hasn’t cared for a long time.”

  She was tired. They had buried her mother-in-law two days ago. It had been her decision to leave. Levon hadn’t been surprised, and if he had wanted to protest, his spirits were too low for him to muster the energy.

  “I’d like to go to Fisherman’s Wharf tomorrow afternoon,” she said.

  “That sounds nice,” Shoushan said. “Hagop, you have the day off tomorrow. Why don’t we all drive down?” she asked, turning to her husband.

  “Alone,” she said. “I want to go walk around alone.”

  The car was quiet and she could sense that her sisters were exchanging looks.

  “Why alone?” Anahid asked. Her voice was calm and curious.

  “I haven’t been alone in a long time,” Tamar answered. “I could use the change.”

  The same persistent depression that she had been suffering for years slowly crept over her like a dark, familiar shadow. There was no light in her life. She felt that there never had been. She was nearing her fortieth birthday and knew that the life she had lived thus far was useless and that she had been useless to everyone around her. Although Anoush had never been an overtly meddlesome mother-in-law, she had watched Tamar quietly throughout the years, disapproving of her listlessness and the fact that she had so easily relinquished her responsibility as a mother to Anoush. It had given her too much time and freedom to feel sorry for herself and the choices she had made too early in life to change now. She could only guess how her daughters felt about her. And Levon—well, that was no mystery.

  San Francisco had felt like a temporary escape for many years now. In typical sisterly fashion,
both Anahid and Shoushan had married men who were brothers and whose family lived in California. Both of them were engaged and then married, and soon after, they moved with their husbands to San Francisco. Tamar wondered if Faris had heard about it. Since he had known Tamar’s sisters from their time in Beirut and understood their dynamic all too well, he and Tamar would have shared a long laugh about her sisters’ marriages.

  “What time would you like to go tomorrow?” Anahid asked.

  They had finished eating dinner and much to Tamar’s relief, Shoushan had left with her husband and she was sitting alone with Anahid—a rarity.

  “I suppose around noon,” Tamar replied.

  “Is that what time you told him you’d meet him?” Anahid asked.

  It was futile to protest. As if no time had passed, Tamar looked away, knowing the sudden redness in her face had betrayed her again.

  “Is he flying all the way out here to meet you?” Anahid asked.

  “Yes and no,” Tamar said. “His employer had given him the option of flying to San Francisco for a conference. He contacted me and asked if I could arrange to meet him.”

  “This, Tamar, is ridiculous,” Anahid concluded. “How long is this going to go on—these secret meetings? How can you expect anything good to happen between you and Levon when you refuse to let go like this?”

  “Levon made his mind up about me a long time ago,” Tamar said wearily. “What difference does it make what I do?”

  “You should have left him a long time ago,” Anahid said.

  “And go where, exactly?” Tamar was tired of this same conversation. She had no education and no means of supporting herself or the girls.

  “You could have gone back to Sunnyside and lived with Mama and Baba,” Anahid said.

  “They got me into this mess,” Tamar said, the same wave of fury boiling over. “And here I am. And also, what makes you think they even know what’s been going on?”

  “Well, they are no fools,” Anahid said. “You don’t visit often and that already raises eyebrows. What’s more, you don’t invite them over either.”

  “I’m sure they fill you in on my life hourly,” Tamar said, now completely disgusted.

  What Anahid said was true. Tamar had all but disowned her parents. It had been a slow, quiet withdrawal—infrequent phone calls and only a few holiday visits.

  “They are so hurt by you,” Anahid continued. “They don’t know what they’ve done wrong that you barely speak to them. They did the best they could with us.”

  This angered Tamar all the more, this logic of her parents doing their best.

  “Well, it wasn’t good enough,” she said flatly.

  Anahid looked away as if Tamar had spat at her. “That’s a terrible thing to say. Do you know how difficult it was for them to come to a foreign country without speaking the language? Uprooting themselves from a life they had loved?”

  “They were tougher on me,” Tamar said. “I will never know why. Was it because I didn’t obey everything they said like you and Shoushan? Who knows. But what would you remember, anyway? You were the oldest and always off doing fun things while they kept me at home like a maid. I don’t know where their foolishness ends and where mine begins. Goddam them,” she said, gritting her teeth. She didn’t bother waiting for her sister’s reaction and left the room.

  Faris left his hotel room too early and walked toward the bay. Where he was staying was only minutes from where he and Tamar had agreed to meet. He had taken a huge risk in calling her that morning, but hoped that Levon had already left for work. It was bad enough that one of Tamar’s girls had picked up the phone and had to wake her up. From the soft, light tone of the voice Faris guessed it was Sophie he had spoken to. Now, only days later, he was finally going to meet Tamar after years of no communication. The last time they had seen each other was on that cold winter day when she had met him in the parking lot. As the years unfolded he saw her and her family at various community events. He kept an especially watchful eye on her eldest, Araxi, trying to discern from his limited view whether or not she was his. Still, the question burned within him. He had hoped Tamar would have somehow contacted him if she had realized it for herself.

  Sarine, Farid, and his youngest boy Hatem had dropped him off at the airport. Sarine had wanted to park the car and see him off, but he had insisted that she not bother. He couldn’t bear the idea of hugging his boys good-bye and knowing the true intention of his trip. His marriage had morphed into one similar to his friends’ marriages, an act of role-playing. He was the responsible husband and Sarine was the loving mother to his children. Whatever passion that may have existed between them had now simmered to an amicable companionship, where neither questioned the integrity of their relationship. Any issues between them that lay well beneath the surface were something they had both chosen to ignore and never address. Although he wasn’t exactly happy, he supposed it was easier this way.

  Faris sat on a bench watching the sea otters lying on rafts in the water, their dark brown coats glistening under the sun. He regarded them with amusement, thinking of his two sons who would have been entertained had they been with him. He suddenly felt a tremendous guilt as he sat waiting for Tamar. Worse still was the realization that it wasn’t Sarine that he felt he was betraying, but his sons. Farid was now sixteen and Hatem thirteen. Faris was oftentimes dumbfounded by the young men they had become—both avid readers and academically successful, and kind and warm with a mischievous sense of humor.

  “Hello,” he heard. He looked up. Tamar stood next to him, smiling hesitantly. He moved over to leave her room to sit. Neither of them looked at each other. They stared at the water and waited, allowing a long silence to grow.

  “I can’t believe I’m here,” she said.

  “I can’t either,” he said, and turned to her. He put his hand on her shoulder and waited for their eyes to meet. As if in a dream, she smiled at him, the bright sun shining behind her and the wind playing with her hair.

  “How have you been?” he asked.

  “Not well,” she said honestly. “My mother-in-law died a few days ago.”

  “How terrible!” he said. “How are Levon and the girls? How did you manage to leave so quickly? If I had known, I would have never asked …”

  “They’re fine. It was sudden, but they’re fine. I told him I was going to see my sisters, which I am. I’m staying with Anahid,” she said. “How are you doing?”

  “Okay,” he said. “The boys are in high school now. So big.” He avoided mentioning Sarine, although there was little of her to say. “Tamar …” She waited for him to speak. “I wanted to ask about Araxi.”

  It had been so many years. She had taken for granted that she had been able to discern rather quickly that Levon was the girl’s father. Her dark brown almond-shaped eyes and the curve of her mouth when she smiled had been the most evident similarities between Araxi and Levon.

  “Is that why we’re here?” she asked. “You asked me to come here to find out if she is yours?”

  “That’s not the only reason, but it feels the most pressing,” he admitted.

  “She’s not,” Tamar said. “I don’t know if that’s a disappointment to you or if it spares you some pain to know that you haven’t been deprived of being a father to her.”

  “I don’t know,” Faris said. He had been thinking about it for so long that he wasn’t sure how he would react either way. “I suppose it’s the best of the two scenarios,” he said.

  “I suppose,” she said.

  She took a deep breath and turned her back to him completely. She broke into sobs and buried her face in her hands.

  “I’m sorry,” Faris said. “I shouldn’t have called. I shouldn’t have asked you to meet me here. It wasn’t only to find out about Araxi. I wanted to see you again.”

  “It’s not that,” she said, choking out the words. “It’s …” Her sobs left her unable to speak. “I’m realizing,” she said, “although I knew, on some level I k
new, why I’ve been so hard on that girl.” She faced him. “It’s because she wasn’t yours. And not only that, but because she looks so very much like Levon, and he has been so difficult to live with all these years … And that’s probably why Levon has doted on Sophie more, because he never fully saw his resemblance in Araxi, could never fully love Araxi because he wasn’t sure if he was her father.”

  This time the silence between them felt like a balloon that had unexpectedly burst.

  “I have to go,” she said and stood up.

  Faris was quiet and didn’t move from the bench. He tried to wipe the tears that kept slipping from the corners of his eyes.

  “I don’t even know what to say,” she said, almost laughing and shaking with hysteria. “I never know what to say when I see you.”

  “Can we stay here for a little while longer?” he asked. “Can I hold your hand?”

  He stood up to take her hand and slipped his fingers through hers. The two stood in front of the bay. At one point he dug his fingers into hers and squeezed her hand tighter, swinging their arms back and forth like many years ago when they walked through their darkened neighborhood together. Slowly she pulled away from him and smiled.

  “You’re going,” he said.

  “I am.” She took a few steps backward. “Bye, Faris,” she said.

  “Good-bye, Tamar,” he said, barely able to form the words.

  He couldn’t bring himself to watch her leave the way he had so many times. He kept his eyes on the water, knowing that she would be moving further and further away, knowing, just as she did, that it was the last time they would ever meet.

  Tamar didn’t expect the scene she walked into after the cab dropped her off at home. The house was unusually quiet when she first walked in. She put her bags in the bedroom and went to wash her face. Just as she was about to dial Levon’s number, she heard the faint sound of music coming from the basement. As she walked down the steps the music grew louder. There were bags of chips and opened boxes of cereal on the carpet, and when she reached the sliding doors she saw her daughters. Araxi and Sophie were standing in a kiddie pool she had never seen before, singing to the blasting music coming from the radio. They were wearing bikinis she had also never seen and dancing with complete abandon, splashing each other with water. She felt as if she had walked onto the scene of an American film: her daughters looked like stereotypical teenage girls running around half-naked, behaving like spoiled and self-obsessed imbeciles. Caught up in the delirium of their singing and dancing, they didn’t even sense that she was standing in front of them. She pulled out the plug of the radio and watched their reaction.