by Lilas Taha
‘I don’t have to. Marwan already asked my permission to propose to you.’ He raised a hand and indicated with his fingers. ‘Twice.’
Nadia held the edge of the kitchen table. ‘Why do I have a hard time believing you?’
‘I’ve never lied to you, and I wouldn’t start with something like this.’
‘When did he ask you the first time?’
‘The day I came home from the hospital.’
‘That was more than a month ago.’
He held her gaze. ‘Right.’
‘So in the hospital the night Fatimah delivered, when I asked you about Marwan’s future plans, he had already talked to you?’
He got to his feet, hoping his legs would hold him steady. ‘Yes.’
Keeping her footing, she tilted her head back to look him in the eye. ‘And you kept it from me?’
Seeing the hurt in her big brown eyes, he braced himself for her tears to flow. ‘It wasn’t the right time then. Not for Marwan. I told you about his family obligations.’
‘But you didn’t tell me he was interested.’ She placed her hands on his chest and gave him a push. ‘Why?’
Her shove barely moved his body. A sadistic ache in his chest kept him standing firm, asking for punishment or simply more contact. Exposed, as if a bulldozer rolled off his body and stripped the flesh off his bones, he raced to find a coherent thought in his head. He had kept his word to his friend, hadn’t he? He had let her know about Marwan’s intentions. What was stopping him from telling her about his feelings? Would she still find Waleed’s suggestion outrageous?
Nadia shoved him again, with more force this time, her voice rising. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Desperation drove him to recklessness. He held her wrists and kept them at his chest, trapping her against him and the table. ‘I had my reasons.’
She tried to pull away.
He didn’t let go. ‘Ask me.’
‘When was the second time?’
‘Day before yesterday.’ He brought his head down until he felt her breath on his face. ‘Now ask me about my reasons to hold him off both times.’
‘I know why.’ She arched her back, creating more distance between their faces and thrusting her hips forward in the process. ‘You think I’m too young.’
Cursing under his breath, he released her and she stumbled past the table.
‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘Goddamn it, Nadia. Ask me.’
‘About what? You’re not making sense.’ Confusion mixed with anger in her voice. The expression on her face shifted between bewilderment and fear.
His timing was wrong, as was the place. And he was going about it the wrong way. But he couldn’t stop. Sameera’s words of the special way he looked at Nadia and Huda’s suggestive comments echoed in the back of his mind. Even Waleed’s notion for them to marry didn’t come out of the blue. Waleed must have sensed something. If they saw it, why didn’t she? Like a drowning man grasping at anything on the surface to pull him out, he fumbled ahead. ‘How can you not know? Everyone seems to have picked up on it.’
‘I . . . I suspected Marwan’s interest, that’s why I asked you that day in the hospital.’
He slammed the table with his palm, his composure reduced to dust. ‘I didn’t mean him.’
Nadia threw her hands in the air. ‘Oh, my God! You just said he was an option, didn’t you?’ She pointed at the door behind him. ‘Were you lying? Is that why you didn’t tell them about Marwan?’
‘I didn’t say anything in there because the instant I mention his name, your mother and sister will salivate for the perfect solution he brings.’
‘So?’
‘I want to know how you feel about him first.’ He crossed his arms over his chest, tightening his hold around his ribs, afraid he might crumble to pieces any minute.
‘What do you think?’
‘I’m not a mind reader. You have to tell me.’
Her fingers flew to her collar. ‘Marwan is a good man.’
‘That’s not what I asked.’
‘I . . . admire him. I always have.’ Her voice dropped to almost nothing.
He knew what was coming, and without a shred of sensibility, he asked for the torturous answer. Did one physically feel one’s heart break? Why couldn’t he take a full breath?
Waleed poked in his head from the doorway. ‘How is everything?’
Nadia walked past Omar, nudging his arm with her shoulder on the way. ‘We have a solution. Five more minutes, please.’
Omar didn’t dare turn around and let Waleed witness his undoing. Cold sweat dampened his nape and palms. He went to the sink and splashed his face with water.
‘I need to get home soon,’ Waleed said. ‘Fatimah is waiting for me.’
He heard Waleed walk away and buried his face in a towel.
‘Who else did you mean, Omar?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘If it has to be this way, then I can’t think of a better man than Marwan. Does he know about our . . . problem?’
Throwing the towel aside, he watched the twirling water in the sink, his hopes going down the drain with it. ‘No.’
Then it struck him. Did Marwan know? Through his sister, maybe? Was that why he had become persistent, asking for an answer soon, making it seem urgent? Was that his friend’s way of giving him a solution without flinging the accusation in his face? Bile rose to his throat. He swallowed many times and faced Nadia. ‘He couldn’t have known. No way Huda told Rihab, right?’
‘But now that Shareef is out of the house, Marwan is bound to know. Besides, it’s not fair to keep him in the dark like that.’
‘Sameera’s family will not let her open her mouth. And Shareef is not stupid enough to tell anyone why he left.’
‘Was kicked out, you mean. There’s no telling what Shareef may say or do anymore.’
‘I’ll explain things to Marwan. It’s better he hears it from me, anyway.’
The tears he was bracing for flowed down her cheeks. He glanced at the door, making sure no one was there, then cradled Nadia’s face in his palms. ‘Do you trust me?’
‘You know I do,’ she whispered.
He waited for her to pull away, but she didn’t. ‘I’ll bring Shareef home and have him accept Marwan’s official proposal. Is that what you want?’
‘Just an engagement. I don’t want to get married now.’ Her cheeks reddened in his hands. ‘Do you think Marwan would agree to that?’
‘I’m sure he would.’ He dropped his hands to his sides. Rubbing his fingers together, he savored the feel of her smooth skin.
‘How will you get Shareef to come back after what he did?’
‘I have my ways. Don’t worry. Your job is to convince Mama Subhia to accept him back. At least until we finalize things.’
‘And if Mama doesn’t agree? Marwan can ask you instead?’
‘It’s not my place, Nadia. Shareef is your brother.’
Her lower lip trembled. ‘But you will keep him from ruining things?’
‘I’m not going to be there.’
‘Why not?’
‘I can’t.’
She grabbed his arms with both her hands. ‘What do you mean? I need you with me.’
Releasing a ragged breath, he pried her hands off him and gave her his back. This girl, woman, creature had no idea what she was doing to him. Be there? Watch Shareef give her hand to Marwan? Was she clueless and cruel?
‘I have to leave at the end of the week. I’ve been assigned a special errand with the army.’ He headed to the door, hoping running away from her might make it easier to lie. ‘I’ll arrange things before I go. Don’t worry, Shareef will do fine. He will have no choice.’
Tucking his new identity documents into his suit jacket, Omar walked out of the house late afternoon. He bore his new persona well, and used it to go through the motions of arranging Nadia’s engagement. Omar Bakry no longer walked the streets. It wasn’t him who entered
Sameera’s family home demanding to talk to Shareef in private, scraping whatever was left of his pride off the ground. It wasn’t him who made an offer Shareef couldn’t refuse, bribing him with a fat teaching contract in oil-rich Kuwait as soon as he graduated. And it wasn’t him who pulled a favor from one of his street friends, now working at the Ministry of Education, to secure that contract. No, it wasn’t him at all.
It was the mysterious fake leader, who had no ties to Nadia or her family.
He didn’t have to say anything to Marwan’s uncle. He sat in the old man’s antique living room and nodded his head when asked if Marwan had told the truth of his commitment to Nadia. No one asked him to produce witnesses, or to swear on his honor, or to place his hand on the Qur’an. It must be nice to be trusted like that, to be treated like the man he once was.
Going along with tradition, he set the engagement date for Thursday afternoon. Two days. In two days, Nadia would be tied to Marwan Barady.
Good thing he wasn’t Omar Bakry anymore.
Days melted into nights. Nadia went without sleep, unable to embrace the life that was about to descend on her. Her eighteenth birthday would come in ten days, but she had grown years older in her mind. Sameera’s vicious lie had the power to spin Earth faster on its axis, bringing on a new world—mean and harsh. Soon, she would be Marwan’s fiancé—a dream she had yearned for before the world she knew stopped existing. How could she take that step when she didn’t recognize the woman she had grown into?
Mama and Huda arranged for the big event, and despite the fact that it should be a men-only affair, they invited women neighbors to help them in the kitchen, claiming Mama wasn’t well enough. They sent out her younger sisters to spread the word around the neighborhood. Waleed and Omar took over inviting the men on behalf of Shareef, who returned home like a triumphant king, leaving Sameera with her family. At least he spared the rest of them the unbearable confrontation with the snake. Mama insisted on that in order to accept him back into the house.
Omar spent his nights at Fatimah’s and when he came home, he was either changing clothes to leave again or shoving papers into Shareef’s hands. Nadia didn’t know if he put Marwan in the picture like he promised, and when she caught him in the kitchen one morning, the look on his face scared her enough not to ask.
She tried to stay out of everyone’s way, as if the whole affair didn’t concern her. Something was wrong with her composition, for certain. When she told her close friends her news, their elation and excitement didn’t rub off on her. When Fatimah fitted her for her engagement dress, she saw someone else in the mirror. Someone disjointed and broken, like a puppet pulled up by hidden strings. What was missing in this play?
Mama called her out to the balcony Wednesday evening. Dragging her feet, she slumped on the chair.
‘Listen to me, Nadia. I don’t want you to spoil everything we have worked so hard on. Now tell me, what’s wrong?’
‘Are you seriously asking me this question?’
‘I thought you liked Marwan?’
‘That’s not the problem, Mama.’
‘What is it, then? You’ve been acting like it’s going to be the end of the world for you tomorrow. You came up with this solution, remember?’
She rose to lean on the railing, facing the open skies. ‘I don’t know what Marwan is thinking. Omar promised me he would tell him.’
‘Tell him what?’
‘Oh, Mama. You know what I’m talking about.’
Mama joined her at the railing and placed an arm around her shoulders. ‘He must have, habibti. Omar wouldn’t hide something like that from his friend.’
‘How can we be sure?’
‘Ask Omar when he gets home.’
‘Ask me what?’
Nadia did a swift turn. Omar filled the doorway, his face the same as that morning, dark and foreboding.
‘Didn’t mean to interrupt, but I heard my name? I thought you called me.’
‘I’m glad you’re here.’ Mama pulled him to a chair. ‘Sit. Talk some sense into her, will you?’
He handed Mama the bag in his hand. ‘Roasted almonds.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘Uncle Mustafa would have approved of Marwan, don’t you think?’
Mama clutched the bag of almonds to her chest. ‘I’m sure of it.’ She wiped under her eyes with the tips of her fingers and headed inside. ‘I’ll make you something to eat.’
Omar leveled his gaze on Nadia. ‘What’s going on?’
Nadia took back her chair. ‘What did Marwan say when you told him about . . . the problem?’
He straddled the other chair. ‘He didn’t say a word. Traditional men like him don’t talk about such matters. He wouldn’t even let me finish my words. He’s making a statement with his actions, though.’
She bowed her head. ‘What does that mean?’
‘He’s bringing close to a hundred men from the Barady family and their acquaintances tomorrow to ask for your hand. You know how impressive that is?’
She ran the back of her hand under her chin, brushing away unexpected tears. Why couldn’t she hold it together anymore? And why wasn’t she impressed? What was missing?
‘You’re crying? You should be happy. Families brag about the number of men accompanying a prospective groom, don’t you know that?’
She shook her head. She didn’t know and she didn’t care.
‘It shows the groom’s good standing in the community and how much he values the woman he seeks. Shareef will have plenty to gloat about among his friends.’
Lifting her head, she wiped away more tears. Why wasn’t she happy, indeed? She searched Omar’s close face for something that eluded her. Like the time she hid her valuable watch in a safe place then forgot where, she was plagued by the effort to remember. Restless now, she stared into Omar’s bright blue eyes and found the hidden spot, but the item itself was lost to her. What was missing, Nadia? What was missing?
‘I don’t want to marry before I get my diploma. Did you tell Marwan that?’
Omar sat back. ‘I did. You’ll have to discuss those details further with him.’
A sense of urgency overwhelmed her, and she gripped Omar’s knee. ‘But does he understand that?’
Omar shot to his feet, letting his chair crash against the railing. ‘What more do you want from me?’
Mama came back onto the balcony, carrying a tray of food and tea service. ‘Stop worrying, habibti. Everything is going according to plan.’
He straightened the chair and offered it to Mama.
She spread hummus on pita bread. ‘Do you have to leave tomorrow?’
‘Afraid so. I need to catch the three o’clock bus.’
‘And you can’t tell us where this assignment is?’
‘North, is all I can say.’
Mama handed him the sandwich. ‘When will we see you again?’
‘I hope to get reinstated here in three months.’
Nadia held the teapot and filled glasses to the rim, her eyes blurry. Tiny tea leaves swirled around with the sugar spoon.
Omar. Omar was missing.
29
Preparations were well underway for the important event on Thursday. Women from the neighborhood crowded the kitchen. Mama Subhia and the girls removed furniture to make room for the influx of men. Omar helped as much as he could, unable to find a legitimate excuse to stay away from the house. At two in the afternoon, he slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and said his goodbyes, kissing Mama Subhia on the forehead.
Nadia followed him to the stairwell. ‘I wish you didn’t have to go.’
He paused on the top step and pulled out a small box wrapped in newspapers from his pocket. ‘I have something for you.’
‘What is this?’
‘To go with your dress. Sorry I won’t be there.’
‘You don’t have to give me gifts.’ Her voice shook.
He took her hand and closed her fingers around the wrapped box. ‘I want you to have this. Happy birthday . . .
and congratulations on your engagement.’
Nadia tore at the newspapers, lifted the cover off the small box and pulled out a chain holding a silver pendant. ‘Wings? You’re giving me wings?’
‘Angel wings.’ Backing away, he went down a couple of steps on the stairs. ‘And you’ve always had them.’ He pointed at the dangling pendant in her trembling hand. ‘That’s to remind you how lucky Marwan is.’
He turned and scurried down the steps, refusing to see more tears spill down Nadia’s cheeks. The steps under his feet blurred. He ran a hand down his face and wiped his eyes. Damn!
Shareef met him at the bottom of the stairs. Omar thrust a firm hand to Shareef’s throat. ‘You screw this up for Nadia, and you will wish you were never born.’
Shareef’s eyes bulged and he gasped for air.
Omar let him go and left the building. He zigzagged his way through narrow alleys. Hitting the main streets, he picked up his pace, jogging past people on their way home from work, eager to start the weekend. He approached the bus depot and sprinted, ignoring the fact there wasn’t a certain time for him to report anywhere, believing the lie he used to stay away. He ran to the station then bolted through it, and kept on running past the bus stop and along the roadside leading out of the city center. Crunching pebbles under his feet, he ran until his lungs burned, pushing his healing body too far. Spasms took hold of his abdominal muscles, and he doubled over on the side, hitting the dirt.
He lay on his back and waited for the trees to stop twirling. The world spun like the wheel of a water mill. A bird soared in the sky, spreading its wings wide. He followed it with his eyes as long as he could.
Curious men approached. Rising to his feet, he hugged his duffle bag and went back to the ticket booth, ignoring their stares. He would travel to Jordan, join the Palestinian militia, and stay away as long as he could.
In the strange disciplined savagery of the militia training camp in the Jordanian desert, Omar worked through his frustrations. He grew his beard to look older and fit his new identity. He found his place with the mix of men, young and old. Angry men, eager to take back what was theirs. With his training skills, he gained respect from everyone in the regiment assigned to his command, and he formed a fighting force that was the envy of other factions in Al Karameh camp.