Mirrors and Mirages

by Monia Mazigh

  The thought made tears well up in Samia’s eyes. It was as if, for the first time in years, she realized the absurdity of their life and the distance that separated her from her husband. She wanted to call him, to hear his voice, to seek shelter from Leila’s insidious remarks, which reminded her of the hissing of a snake. The unexpected surge of emotion had nudged aside the superficiality of Samia’s daily life.

  She was just about to dial her husband’s number when the voices of her daughters coming towards her made her change her mind. She stopped cold.

  “Oh, Mommy, you’re all pink! What is it?” asked Mona.

  “It’s nothing. I think I’ve been in the sun too long. I should have put on some sunscreen; the parasol’s not enough,” Samia answered, butting out her cigarette in the ashtray. It was a purely mechanical gesture, but it relieved the tension.

  To change the subject, Samia bombarded her daughters with questions. “Did you like the film? What about your friends, did they show up? Are you going to see them again next week? Did you have a bite to eat after the movie?”

  Lynne and Mona didn’t have time to answer. Samia glanced at her watch and saw that it was nearly six o’clock. Lama hadn’t come back from work yet. “I wonder what she’s up to?”

  She stood up and gathered her hair, fastening it with the grip she’d stuck between the cushions of the sofa, and slipped on a pair of turquoise sandals. The woven leather straps enveloped her dainty feet and the colour brought out her fuchsia nail polish. Without a word she headed for the house as Lynne and Mona looked on, blank expressions on their faces. Then they burst out laughing.

  “She’s acting really weird. What’s going on?” Lynne asked Mona, frowning.

  Her sister rolled her eyes. “I don’t have the faintest idea. But you know something? I don’t want to know! Angelina Jolie was great in the movie, wasn’t she?” And Mona launched into a dialogue with her sister that was punctuated by exclamations and cries of admiration.

  Samia was happy to be back in the cool of her kitchen. She wanted to forget Leila and her stupid remarks. She opened the fridge. The carafe of syrup she’d prepared the previous day from apricot leather hadn’t been touched. She picked it up, plopped two ice cubes into a glass, and filled it with the satin-smooth, unctuous orange liquid. She took one mouthful, then a second. With a click of her tongue she indicated her satisfaction, then, like a cat recovering from a sudden leap, she went upstairs to her room to take a shower.

  37

  From the window Emma looked down at the lights of Dubai scintillating in the darkness. It was after midnight and the airplane would be landing in a few minutes. The spectacle below dazzled her: thousands of bright lights shining against the darkness of the heavens, as if the eyes of an infinite number of nocturnal creatures were peering curiously up at the sky. The soaring skyscrapers, each one extravagantly taller than the next, seemed to rub up against the firmament. Her mouth half-open in wonderment, Emma was like a country girl seeing the city for the first time.

  Sara was fast asleep beside her, head tilted slightly back against the seat, resting on her hands. The trip had been without incident; everything had gone smoothly. For one last time Emma threw a furtive glance at the marvellous spectacle that was unfolding on the other side of the window.

  Inside the plane, the passengers were quiet. The sound of snoring came from a few rows back, probably from a tired passenger who was sleeping right until the last minute. The clear voice of the flight attendant broke the nearly embarrassing silence that had fallen over the cabin. “Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of the crew, I welcome you to Dubai International Airport,” and then she continued in Arabic, “Ahlan wa sahlan bikum!”

  Emma’s heart missed a beat. The words of welcome reminded her that she had truly left Canada and soon she would be setting foot in another country. What could fate possibly have in store for her?

  “Sara, Sara, my darling, wake up! We’re here.”

  In confusion Sara opened her eyes. She’d lost track of time and no longer knew whether it was day or night. But soon she was wide awake, with a broad smile on her lips. “Mummy, are we in Dubai? Did you see the tower, the one we saw on the computer?” she asked with her innocent look.

  Emma couldn’t suppress a smile. The sight of Sara buoyed her hopes, and she felt the tension easing. She would have to be strong. “It’s night outside, sweetie. I couldn’t make out the tower, but I saw plenty of tall buildings. It’s really impressive, you’ll see.”

  Sara was enchanted. She’d forgotten her fatigue and her eyes were round with curiosity. All the passengers were on their feet now. Emma opened her purse to check her travel documents. She was terrified of losing even one. Her entire life — the past, the present, and the future — hung on those pieces of paper. She sighed, reassured; everything was exactly as she’d left it.

  The line of passengers moved forward slowly. The crying of a baby, awakened by the hustle and bustle or calling for its bottle, added to the commotion as they made their way out of the aircraft. Emma could hear several languages being spoken, the main ones being Arabic and English. Her ear, confused, picked up snatches of conversation in Arabic mixed with English. I’ll get used to it, she reassured herself. The door of the aircraft wasn’t too far away.

  Emma took Sara’s hand and they soon found themselves walking down a corridor. Emma followed the signs leading to Customs and Immigration. The interminable passageway finally opened onto an immense arrival hall, in the middle of which stood a huge silver artificial palm tree surrounded by shops displaying the most prestigious brand names. Atop a pedestal was a silver-grey sports car that caught the passengers’ eyes as it proclaimed its insolent beauty, seeming to say, Come to me, take me. I am yours. This is Dubai, the land of marvels, the place where everything is possible.”

  Emma and Sara squeezed each other’s hands harder still. “Mummy, it’s like a great big carousel!”

  Emma nodded as she tried to locate the direction to Customs. The luxury on display all around her made her ill at ease. The sign pointing in the right direction appeared amid bright ceiling lights that reflected off the polished white marble floor.

  A woman walked by nonchalantly, wearing a long black dress that covered her from head to toe, leaving only her eyes showing. The little girl beside her was clutching the woman’s dress with one hand while she held a Barbie doll in the other. The woman looked in all directions as if she was expecting someone. A man came up to her with a smile on his face and Emma heard him speak to the woman in Arabic. “Our flight is on time. I just checked with an agent.”

  Emma felt a twinge of discomfort. The sight of a woman with a man reminded her that she was alone with her daughter in this strange city. There was no man to guide her, so she would have to be her own guide. She picked up the pace. Both she and Sara needed to rest.

  “Mummy, when do we get outside? I’m thirsty.”

  Emma’s face paled as they approached Customs. “Just be patient a little bit longer. We’ll be at our hotel soon.”

  Now they were standing in front of the wicket. The customs official, a man with a thick moustache and a white scarf covering his hair, motioned her to come forward. Emma could feel her stomach churning. With his dark eyes he looked her over. Emma’s hands were shaking.

  “Your passports, please,” he said, with the thick Arab accent peculiar to the countries of the Gulf.

  Emma handed him her and Sara’s blue Canadian passports. When he noticed Emma’s nationality, his manner became more relaxed. He seemed accommodating, almost courteous. “Do you have your husband’s written permission for your daughter?” he asked, pointing at Sara, a forced smile revealing blackened teeth.

  Emma handed him the document. She didn’t want to mention that the man was no longer her husband. “Above all, don’t tell anyone you’re divorced. Keep it quiet,” Samia Bibi had whispered in her ear during their final meetin
g in Ottawa.

  The man in the glass booth seemed satisfied. He stroked his moustache and handed Emma’s documents back to her. This time his gaze was one of curiosity, even a bit prying. Then, with a flick of the wrist, he waved her through.

  Her two suitcases were waiting patiently on the revolving carousel. She lifted them onto a baggage cart and headed for the exit. Sara, who had watched the whole scene without a peep, felt relieved. She looked up at her mother timidly. “And now are we going to our hotel?”

  Emma was pleased to have passed this first exam successfully. “Yes, we are, sweetie. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  The two passed through the automatic sliding doors, out of the airport and into the hot, dry air outside. Even though it was nighttime, the temperature was high. Palm trees planted at regular intervals dotted the landscape. A faint whiff of dust filtered into Emma’s nose, as if to remind her that they were in the heart of the desert; she coughed softly.

  A taxi pulled up. The driver looked like Ali, the talkative cabbie who had driven them to the Ottawa airport. He smiled and placed the two suitcases in the trunk of his car. “Where to, madam?” he asked.

  Emma had trouble understanding him. Finally she figured out what he was saying. “Ramada Inn, please. Al-Mankhool Street.”

  The driver did not say a word and, with a bored look on his face, drove off. What a contrast with Ali, who hadn’t stopped talking for the entire trip to the airport. Here people kept to themselves, she concluded. Better not trust anyone. So much the better. He won’t ask any questions, Emma mused philosophically.

  It was all Sara could do to keep her eyes open. Emma leaned back against the seat of the taxi. A smile crept over her mouth. The adventure was about to begin.

  38

  Ameur’s brilliant smile revealed his white, straight teeth. He looked for all the world like a well-trained dog that had just rediscovered his master. His charmer’s gaze came to rest on Louise while Lama stood motionless, like a pillar of salt. Louise, in her confusion, had no idea what to do. She wanted to appear indifferent, but her face betrayed a mixture of love, rekindled by this sudden apparition, and contempt for Ameur’s feckless nature.

  “What a wonderful surprise! How are you doing?” Ameur’s melodious voice revealed nothing of what had gone before.

  Louise stammered, looking for words, forcing a smile. She hoped Lama would come to the rescue, but her friend was watching the passing crowd. “I’m okay, thank you. And you?” she managed to articulate after a few seconds.

  “We don’t see you at meetings any more. How come?”

  Lama, who was listening while feigning inattention, was seething with anger. She wanted to ask him, Will your mother allow Louise to go to meetings? but she bit her tongue.

  “I’ve been really busy with my lectures, and now my training course is taking up all my time. The others will have to take up the slack.”

  Ameur knew very well that she hadn’t wanted to see him again after the breakup. He carried on as if everything was perfectly normal. “You’re always welcome. Your presence and your contribution are important for the association. Isn’t that so, Lama?” he said, looking at Louise’s friend.

  Lama chewed on her lip and said nothing. She didn’t want to hurt Ameur in front of Louise, as she suspected her friend still loved him, but she detested his hypocrisy and wanted nothing better than to end the conversation then and there.

  All at once Ameur’s voice turned serious, his forehead wrinkled. Turning to Louise, he said, “We absolutely have to meet before I leave for Hamilton. Call me on my cell. I’ve got to run now; I’ve got a meeting in a couple of minutes.” He said goodbye and rushed off.

  Louise hardly knew what to make of his parting words. “Hamilton? Do you think he’s been accepted to med school?”

  Louise and Lama resumed their stroll, but the relaxed and cheerful atmosphere had dissipated. The two girls paid no attention to the passersby, or to the Sparks Street boutiques that were displaying their merchandise on the sidewalk. The encounter with Ameur had spoiled everything.

  “He’s a brainy guy. Why wouldn’t he enrol in med school down there? Louise, are you really going to call him?” Lama was upset. Louise hadn’t forgotten Ameur, that melting smile of his, that syrupy voice. She’d just witnessed it with her own eyes.

  “I don’t know if I’ll be able to talk to him. I don’t even know what I’d say,” ventured Louise. “What do you think, Lama?”

  Louise’s question bore down more heavily on Lama than the heat of the day. She did not respond immediately. Instead she watched the watercraft gliding by on the silvery surface of the Rideau Canal. On both banks bicycles rushed by, as if to prove how much faster they were than the tourist-filled boats.

  “Frankly, I don’t know. You have to make your mind up, Louise. I’ve never had anyone to love, so I’m not the right person to give you an answer.”

  Louise blushed. In the confusion and the heat, the word, the gesture from Lama she’d hoped for was slow in coming. She’d never imagined that a chance meeting with Ameur could have such an impact. Now she was caught in the claws of her own feelings. Her love for Ameur was alive — she’d just experienced the proof.

  The bus was coming, so she rummaged through her purse for her pass. “I’ll be phoning,” she called out as she boarded the bus.

  Lama stood there, feet pinned to the ground. She threw a last glance at the Rideau Canal; it shone in the midday sun like a silvery knife slicing through the city. That water makes me want to dive in, she thought. She checked her watch and hurried off. The lunch hour was almost over.

  39

  Emma buttoned her tailored beige jacket. She had a meeting at the office in one hour, and she did not want to be late. She smiled at herself in the mirror. Her appearance — simple but professional — pleased her. Two months had passed since she’d arrived in Dubai, and things could not have been better. She enjoyed her work and Mr. Bibi treated her well. He’d briefed her on her job, on relations with her co-workers, promotions — in a word, on everything she needed to know to play an effective role in the company.

  Her salary was excellent. She’d located a small furnished apartment not far from the office, bought a small car, and enrolled Sara in a day camp where she could swim, play tennis, and even ice skate. Early every morning Emma left the apartment, drove her daughter to camp, and then headed for the office. In the afternoon she finished work at around four o’clock, picked up Sara, and the two of them returned home, tired but happy to be together.

  As a rule Emma would go out with Sara in the evening for a shopping trip or for a stroll in one of the city’s malls. Both of them loved their new life. It felt as if they were on holiday, where every day brought a new discovery. There was only one drawback — the weather. No sooner did they step outdoors to get into the car than a wave of dry, burning heat would sweep over them, leaving them gasping for breath, enveloping their bodies as if they were dead trees on a sun-scorched field. Fortunately the punishment lasted only a few minutes, and then everything returned to normal. The air-conditioned buildings welcomed them with open arms, cooling them and helping them forget that only a few moments earlier they had tasted the flames of Hell.

  Emma chatted with her mother regularly, and at length.

  “Mum, you’ve got to come and visit me here in Dubai. No more excuses. It’s nothing like the Canadian cold!”

  Her mother felt much better now that Emma had found a well-paying job that matched her skills. “Better if you come to Tunis. I really miss you. How much I’d love to hug you, to touch you,” said the older woman, who’d never flown in her life and was not intending to do so now, now that she was well into her sixties.

  “God willing, when I can put some money aside and my boss gives me a vacation, that’s the first thing I’ll do,” Emma murmured, dreaming of that day.

  She gave herself one
last glance in the mirror, smoothed her skirt to remove an unwelcome crease, slung her purse over her shoulder, and closed the door. Sara had already left for camp while Emma stayed home with Mr. Bibi’s permission to prepare for an important meeting.

  It was a meeting with representatives of a Canadian software company that hoped to sign a contract with the al-Arish Group. Mr. Bibi had asked Emma to study the project and insisted that she attend. Her Canadian experience would make it easier for her to evaluate the company. Emma was determined to do her best. She did not want to miss the chance to demonstrate her qualifications and her abilities to Mr. Bibi, his associate, and their colleagues.

  The highway that led to the office was a little less congested by then. Her car, a midget among giants, wound its way between four-wheel-drive vehicles with tinted glass windows that looked more like tanks. More than once she narrowly avoided being crushed by a monster car bearing down on her at full speed. The streets, the interchanges, and the overpasses met, converged, and branched off in all directions. Sixteen-lane motorways sliced through heavily built-up areas where skyscrapers marched off into the distance.

  Emma was relieved to find space in the company parking lot. She parked her car and almost ran towards the entrance. The marble floor glowed and the glass doors gleamed in the sunlight. The Indian receptionist greeted her with a polite hello. Emma took the elevator to the sixteenth floor. “Come see me before the meeting. We’ll go together,” Mr. Bibi had said to her the previous day as she was about to leave. Now she headed straight for her boss’s office.