Bitter Almonds

by Lilas Taha

  The heavy weight of disappointment and confusion kept her restless and irritated. Why did things have to be so complicated?

  Omar fastened a striped cloth around his hips and dropped his pants and underwear. He hung his clothes on one of the hooks, slipped his feet into a quipquap and clanged his way with the wooden shoes on slippery tiles. He went around a big fountain at the center of the reception hall and squeezed through a low opening leading to an inner room. He was late, and hoped he hadn’t missed much of the party. It was his first time in a souk Turkish bath, his first time participating in the ceremonial washing of a groom on his wedding day.

  Marwan called out for him as soon as he walked in. He didn’t know how Marwan could see him through the thick steam. Light rays shot down from colored stained glass windows in the domed ceiling. Heat came at him from every direction, radiating off marble walls and floor. Splashing water resonated with every step he took and he resisted the urge to extend his arms ahead to feel his way around men with nothing but wet cloths around their loins. He smelled bay leaves and olive oil in the abundance of soap men lathered over their bodies. They scattered everywhere on the glistening floor around open marble urns, laughing and singing while they bathed.

  Of course, Marwan had to be at the far end of the big circular room. By the time Omar reached him, he was breathless and sweaty. ‘Sorry I’m late.’ He sat next to Marwan, crossing his legs and holding the hems of his cloth together between his exposed knees. He greeted a couple of mutual friends now that he could distinguish faces. Marwan’s face and neck were flushed red from the heat.

  ‘I was worried you weren’t going to make it,’ Marwan said. A man behind him was scrubbing Marwan’s back with enough force to rock his body back and forth.

  Omar wiped moisture off his forehead and upper lip, salty sweat stinging his eyes. ‘And miss all this fun?’

  ‘Your first time?’ The scrubbing man lifted Marwan’s arm and ran his sponge up and down several times.

  If Omar had been able to see better, he could swear the man was about to skin Marwan alive with his forceful hands. How dirty could Marwan be?

  Marwan chuckled and turned his head toward the man, ‘Don’t mind him. He’s Palestinian. They don’t follow this tradition.’ He motioned with his hand to an older man nearby. The older man splashed closer, shook hands with Omar, and squatted behind him. Before Omar could find out who the man was, hot water dumped over his head. He let out a curse, spitting water out.

  ‘Relax.’ Marwan chuckled again. ‘Let him take care of you.’

  ‘I can bathe myself, thank you sir.’ Omar snatched the sponge out of the old man’s hands. ‘I’m not the one getting married tonight.’

  ‘A massage?’ The older man looked insulted, and Omar realized he had just deprived him of a chance to earn his keep. ‘Yes, thank you.’ He squeezed the sponge. ‘When I’m done?’

  The older man nodded. ‘Just call out for me. I’m Abu Musa.’ He slipped away.

  Omar washed, his skin tingling under the hot water and steam. ‘I found a place.’

  ‘Yeah? Where?’ Marwan had his eyes closed, the man washing him burying his fingers in his bubble-covered hair.

  ‘Arnous Square. A decent one-bedroom apartment.’

  ‘They gave you the go ahead at last? It’s been three months since they told you of the move.’

  ‘I don’t know what the holdup was. They had to clear me on all fronts, I guess.’

  ‘I didn’t think you were still in danger after this time.’

  ‘I wasn’t sure they wouldn’t throw me in the same cell with my superior officer. But I’m out of the woods now. I’m set.’ Using a brass bowl, he scooped water out of the urn to his right and poured it over his face and chest. He heard Marwan’s loud sigh and wiped his eyes. ‘What’s troubling you?’

  Marwan motioned to his attending man that he would take over. The man scurried off to another poor fellow. ‘A little nervous.’

  ‘About marriage? If any man were ever ready for this step, it’s you, my friend.’

  Marwan washed his feet, keeping his voice low. ‘About tonight.’

  Omar coughed into his closed fist. Oh, no! He was not the one Marwan should be seeking advice from on this matter. Shouldn’t he consult with a married man? His uncle? One of his older experienced friends? His brother-in-law? Hell, the old man he dismissed earlier could provide better insight than him. ‘You’ll do fine.’

  ‘She’s a widow, Omar. And I am . . . not . . . you know.’

  ‘It’s better this way. You won’t be at a complete loss like most of us.’

  Marwan scanned the crowd. ‘I think you and I are the only ones left. I heard things from these fellows I don’t care to repeat.’

  ‘Listen, your wife waited more than two years for you. A young, wealthy woman like her could have chosen any of the men who sought her.’ He put his hand on Marwan’s shoulder. ‘She wanted you. Concentrate on that, and everything else will follow its natural course.’ He dropped his hand. A persistent thought that kept him awake many nights toyed with his nerves. He had waited all his life for Nadia. What would their union be like if it ever came to life? He dumped cold water on his head.

  Marwan rose and extended his hand. ‘It’s not fair to keep her waiting any longer.’

  Grasping his hand, he let Marwan pull him to his feet. His cloth, soaking wet, threatened to leave him. He pinched it at his waist and tried to pull his hand out of Marwan’s grip.

  Before releasing it, Marwan gave him a quick tug. ‘It’s time you step up. I have it on good authority, Nadia turned down a damn good man for you.’

  Stunned, Omar stared at Marwan. Before he could articulate a response, Marwan’s friends surrounded them, as if seeing Marwan on his feet was their signal he was done bathing. They sang traditional chants about the groom’s approaching night, causing Marwan’s cheeks to flame a deeper red. They wrapped him in dry towels from head to toe and passed around stacks of dry towels for everyone in the circle.

  Omar made sure to cover his chest to avoid a colder draft when a small wooden door opened. Caught by the cheerful crowd, he followed everyone to a bright, spacious hall, his mind, stomach and soul all in one big knot. Nadia wanted him. Not in a brotherly way, not due to her innocent emotional closeness to him, and not because she needed him to get rid of her fiancé. Marwan had to spell it out. She wanted him. And he, the obtuse idiot, had let his anger at her actions get in the way. He had given her a hard time before he started to explain his intentions that day in Fatimah’s house, and when he had been interrupted, he’d lost his nerve. He had kept her waiting.

  Sucking a dry breath, he entered the resting hall, brightened by huge stained glass windows. A big round fountain stood at the center of the marble floor. A continuous raised seat jutted off the wall around the room, covered with colorful rugs and cushions. Everyone found a seat and Omar ended up at the end of the row near the door. It was better this way. He couldn’t wait for the ceremony to be over so he could slip away, his core seeking Nadia.

  He tried to relax, his body adjusting to the gradual temperature change. Trays with short hot tea glasses were passed around with dessert: crunchy baklava stuffed with pine nuts and pistachios, drizzled with sweet syrup.

  The men joked while they ate, and from the look on Marwan’s face, he seemed to unwind and get used to their jests. He lost some of his clownish coloring, but a serious buzz hung over his bowed head. His hair still wet, his lips glistening with sugary syrup, Marwan radiated with vehement appreciation for the step he was about to take.

  Omar closed his eyes. When would it be his turn?

  The call for evening prayer resonated from minarets outside the bath walls and got everyone to their feet. The joyful atmosphere shifted to a serious one. Men headed to the dressing hall, a less spacious room with semi-private stalls side by side. Omar left an extra tip for Abu Musa for missing his massage before he left like a sheep following its herd. Everyone dressed and escorted M
arwan to his house, cheering him on and declaring to the entire neighborhood that a groom was being prepped.

  At the house, Marwan’s relatives made a show of dressing the groom in his finest outer layers, splashing him with cologne and making sure he looked his best. The explicit jokes Omar heard in the Turkish bath disappeared, replaced by serious advice and comments about Marwan’s duties as a family man.

  The procession moved back to the street and headed toward the bride’s house. Music and women’s voices singing traditional songs spilled out to the street. Before Marwan was allowed in and the men dispersed, Omar reached him through the crowd and shook his hand, wishing him well.

  Marwan managed a smile. ‘May your turn come soon, my friend.’

  35

  Omar didn’t know how he made it to his new apartment, walking through the streets in a daze. Rejuvenated and pumped by Marwan’s ceremony, he experienced a severe let down stepping into the unfurnished space, and suffered a restless night alone in his sleeping bag. He had finalized the rental arrangements as soon as he was ordered to take up his new position at the military court, but hadn’t told anyone in the family of this place yet. Had he told his sister or Mama Subhia, they would have scrambled to help him furnish the apartment and he didn’t want their influence in the decorations. Nadia alone had that right.

  The following afternoon, he looked out the window of his living room, snacking on a handful of roasted almonds. He could make out the main campus buildings a couple of streets away. Nadia could walk to her classes from here with ease. She could come home to rest during her breaks, have lunch or take a nap. Her friends and colleagues could visit her, study for exams, or work on papers. And he would get to watch her relax, flutter around happy and content like she used to.

  He bit into a bitter almond and winced. About to spit it out, he closed his eyes and continued chewing instead. Uncle Mustafa’s pale face appeared behind his eyelids. Bracing himself, he swallowed the bitterness and sent a mental salute to the old man.

  He checked his watch. Nadia’s last class was about to end and she would soon come out to take the bus home. He must hurry. Walking to campus, he concentrated on the early signs of spring to calm his nerves. Rose buds had started to awaken, hinting at splendid blooms and promising abundance of beauty to come. Perhaps he could be part of the seasonal cycle. Spotting Nadia clear the front gates with a group of students, he picked up his pace.

  A gust of wind ruffled the hem of her skirt, and she pressed it down with a book in her hand. She advanced toward him as soon as she saw him, her eyes wide with worry. ‘What’s wrong? Is Mama sick?’

  ‘Everything is fine. I told her I wanted to walk you home today.’ He scowled at a couple of young men approaching from behind Nadia.

  The young men flanked her, standing erect and flexing their arms by their sides. ‘Can we help you?’

  Omar deepened his frown. ‘No.’

  Nadia clamped her other hand on her skirt, struggling to keep it from lifting. Flustered, she broke into a shy smile. ‘These are my friends, Riyad and Kareem.’

  The tallest of the two stuck his hand out to Omar. ‘And you are?’

  Omar took his hand with a little more force than a handshake required. ‘Nadia’s fiancé.’

  Nadia inhaled out loud, then bit her lower lip, glaring at him.

  Riyad or Kareem, whichever the tallest man’s name was, gave an idiotic smile. ‘Sorry. We thought you might be bothering our Nadia.’

  Omar clenched his jaw. Our Nadia? Who the hell was this guy? He took one step forward to get in his face.

  Nadia hooked her arm in Omar’s. ‘Thanks, Kareem. We don’t want to be late.’ She tugged at Omar’s arm until he gave in. He let her drag him away, maintaining eye contact with the two men as long as he could.

  Once they rounded a corner, Nadia withdrew her hand and hurried onward. ‘I can’t believe you just did that.’

  This was not a good start to the conversation he had in mind. He fell into step with her. ‘Would you rather I said I was your brother?’

  ‘Of course not. I don’t see why you had to say anything at all.’

  ‘The guys were measuring me. I’m not a fool.’

  ‘They are my friends. And they were looking out for me.’ Her voice rose. ‘You think you’re the first handsome man to approach me on the street?’

  It was his turn to get angry, but he did a double take. She thought him handsome? Now that was a good start. He clung to that. ‘Slow down, please. I want to talk to you about something important. Let’s go to the Toledo café.’

  Nadia came to an abrupt stop. ‘Are you serious? The lovely café on Abu Rummaneh Street?’

  ‘About a fifteen minute walk from here.’ He eyed her stubborn skirt. ‘Or we could take a taxi.’

  ‘I’m starving. Let’s go to the falafel stand at the park entrance. It’s a beautiful afternoon.’

  Omar nodded. Falafel stand? Not the refined place he wanted but he would go along. No point irritating her further.

  He pushed through the crowd gathered around the falafel stand to place the order, keeping his eyes on Nadia, who waited at a distance. Gathering the hem of her skirt to one side, she examined flowers and followed a couple of butterflies before they flew high, the expression on her face delightful and carefree. He had made the right decision, seeing her unwind, returning to the old Nadia he knew. Carrying the hot sandwiches, he walked her through the park and kept the conversation centered around her studies until he found an empty bench. He motioned for her to take a seat.

  Her face sparkling with the excitement of discussing her classes and professors, she bit into her sandwich unreservedly, closing her eyes while she savored the juicy bite.

  He ran his fingers over the wrapping of his sandwich. ‘How come you don’t wear your wing necklace anymore?’ He cleared his throat. Where did that come from? Why couldn’t he jump into what he really wanted to say?

  ‘It reminds me of my engagement to Marwan. He’s a married man now.’

  ‘Right.’ Omar pointed in the distance. ‘I rented an apartment in that building over there.’

  ‘So close?’ A drop of tahini danced on her upper lip.

  ‘I told you I would find something near campus.’

  She licked her fingers. ‘Furnished?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘When do you move?’

  ‘Moved already. I report to military court day after tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s great news.’ A tremor seeped into her voice. ‘Will you attend classes now that you’re here? Is that why you decided to be close to campus?’

  He shook his head, knowing he was staring at her mouth, unable to take his eyes away from the dancing sesame sauce. ‘I did it to make it easy for you.’

  She stopped chewing. Her cheek bulged with her bite, stretching her moist lips further. She swallowed. ‘I’m not sure I understand.’

  He handed her a napkin. ‘Shareef arrives tomorrow.’

  Her face drained of healthy color fast. ‘I won’t stay home if he is there. But I cannot stay at your place, either. I can’t believe you expect me to do that.’

  Confused by her reasoning, he coughed behind his closed fist. ‘Of course not. What I’m trying to say is—’

  ‘How did you get Shareef to show his face?’

  ‘I told him Mama Subhia is sick, and he must come see her. It was the one way to get him here.’

  Setting the remainder of her sandwich by her book on the bench between them, she wiped her mouth. ‘You had to lie to get him to remember his mother.’

  ‘He must take his place in the family.’

  She frowned. ‘We’re doing just fine without him.’

  Omar touched his chest. ‘I need him here. Do you know why?’

  ‘Mama will be pleased. You promised her to bring him home.’

  He put his unwrapped sandwich next to hers. ‘Shareef is your brother, your one blood male relative, and I have to address him in a matter only he can un
dertake.’ He took her hand in his. ‘If you agree.’

  ‘I don’t want anything to do with him after what he did to us.’ Her hand trembled between his fingers. ‘I will not accept his apology if you think you can get him to do that. And you shouldn’t depend on Shareef’s ability to take charge—’

  Omar clasped his other hand over hers. ‘Will you be my wife?’

  She snatched her hand, rose to her feet, and gave him her back.

  He waited a couple of breaths, watching her fight with her skirt, her head bowed. He went to stand behind her. Her hair tied high in a bun, the fine hairs on her nape flitted over smooth skin. Partially hidden under the hairline, a chocolate birthmark the size of a pencil eraser captivated him. He had never noticed it before. What other mysteries did she have?

  Trying to keep his voice steady, he dropped it to a whisper, ‘I don’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t in love with you. You must know that.’

  She remained silent, facing a tree.

  ‘If you agree to marry me, I don’t want to wait until you graduate. You could finish your studies from your new home. That’s why I chose it so close to your campus.’

  Her head snapped up, but she didn’t utter a sound.

  ‘There’s no other woman for me but you, Nadia.’ He touched her shoulder, dropped his hand when she flinched. ‘I don’t know how else to explain it.’

  She made a soft sound, a faint moan. If only she would let him see the expression in her eyes. Why was she being difficult?

  He released a shaky breath. ‘You don’t have to answer me now. I’m telling you of my intention to ask Shareef for your hand, now that I finally paid off all my debts and can provide a decent life for you.’ He stepped back. ‘You can give your answer later if you like. After you have had time to think.’

  She swung around, and he was struck to see tears running. ‘Don’t you know?’ Her lips trembled.

  His breath caught in his chest. ‘What?’

  ‘I was born to be yours, Omar.’