No Time To Blink

by Dina Silver

  “I need you to send me a ticket,” I finally said after we’d quickly caught each other up. “I don’t have much time to chat, but can you call a travel agent and have them arrange for me to come home next month?”

  “Is everything OK?” she asked.

  “Everything is fine, but I need your help with this.”

  “Sure, what date?”

  “Maybe November 8 or any day that week, and then ask if she will mail the ticket to this address.” I gave her Brigitte’s apartment number.

  “Maybe she can arrange for you to pick it up there at a local office in Beirut?” Laura suggested.

  “Just have her send it. It will be much easier for me, and if I have to change the date, I will. Please pay for it, and I will pay you back.”

  “How exciting,” Laura said.

  “It is, but don’t tell anyone. I mean it. I want to surprise my family.” My heart was beating out of my chest. “I miss you all so much. You have no idea.”

  “I miss you, too, and can’t wait to meet Ann Marie. I can’t believe you have a daughter and I’ve never met her.”

  After hanging up, I grabbed a bunch of items off the shelves, paid for them, and returned to the car. Walid was so consumed with my sweet little girl that he never bothered to question why I’d chosen that market over any other.

  The next week I began to rearrange the apartment. Items that Gabriel had locked up in a storage locker in the basement were brought to light. Mostly tchotchke-type things such as his fishing poles and some old framed photographs of him when he was a child.

  “I want Ann Marie to see these things as she gets older and learn where she came from,” I said to him when he came home, pleased with the changes I’d made, hoping he’d recognize the obvious absence of my own family photos. Our transfer to Beirut happened so quickly that I never had time to collect all the things I wanted from my home in Greenwich. Things like photo albums and quilts and all my seasonal clothes that were still packed in trucks in our basement when I first left for Chicago.

  I began to misplace things like my winter coat and my favorite leather boots, and the wristwatch Laura had given me one year for my birthday, all on purpose and arbitrary, of course. Gabriel was willing to replace what I needed, and only once did I mention the personal belongings I’d left behind in the States.

  “One of these years, I should have Laura fly them out to me, but they’ll all be terribly out of fashion by then.”

  He laughed at my frivolous concerns.

  Silly fool.

  Whether he thought women like the new me actually existed or whether he presumed I was finally the girl he intended to marry didn’t matter. I would see Brigitte, smiling proudly from her doorway, arms crossed, when she’d catch me kissing Gabriel goodbye each morning as he left for work.

  The afternoon of Thursday, October 28, I saw Brigitte coming up the front walk from the butcher as I was drying some of Ann Marie’s blankets on the terrace. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

  She examined me closely, frowning, with a plane ticket in her hand. “What is this?”

  “It’s exactly what you think it is.” I went to reach for it, and she snapped it away from me. I dropped my arms to my sides. “You’re going to keep it for yourself?” I asked.

  “How could you put me in danger like this?”

  “You always get the mail.”

  “What if I hadn’t today? There are plenty of days that Sammy picks it up.” Her hand was shaking. “Have you lived your entire life with no consequences?”

  I almost lashed out at her, but I held my tongue. Before I’d met Gabriel, my life had been void of passion. Not opportunity and blessings, but true passion. Loving and marrying him forced me to abandon a writing career, abandon my home, my family, and now my self-worth. No, I had not lived my entire life without consequences.

  But once again, I strained to bite my tongue. “I would have put you at more risk by telling you and then asking you to keep a secret for me.”

  “I’m not happy about this at all, Catherine.”

  “That I want to see my mother, or that I sent the ticket to your mailbox?”

  Her expression softened. Ultimately, she felt sorry for me, and I knew that. “Of course, I want you to see your mother and father. I just wish you would not have involved me in a lie.”

  I extended my hand. “You know what Gabriel will do if he finds out.”

  We stared at each other, and then she handed me the ticket. She knew what he’d do.

  “Thank you, and now there is nothing more to be said. This conversation never happened.”

  She blinked and placed a hand over her heart. “He will never forgive you if you plan to deceive him.”

  “He has already trapped me here and forbidden me from seeing my family. I can’t think of much worse than that. It’s me who’s been deceived.”

  She patted her chest. “He does love you, you know.”

  I lowered my gaze and nodded. I loved him, too, despite everything, but it wasn’t enough.

  “How will you leave with no passport?”

  “I’m working on that.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  CATHERINE

  Beirut, 1971

  Back in the apartment with the ticket in my hand like a small grenade, I stood thinking of where to hide it. Under the mattress seemed too predictable. Anywhere in the kitchen too risky. Same with any of the dresser drawers. There was hardly a place that Gabriel would not accidentally rummage through. Suddenly, it occurred to me.

  I walked into Ann Marie’s room. It was a small space, painted a pale but cheerful shade of yellow with a crib, changing table, and matching chest of drawers. The three-piece set was a gift from Gabriel’s sister, Serine, and her husband, Michael. In the closet were her clothes and linens and boxes of diapers. I reached inside one of the boxes, pulled out a diaper, and sat on the floor cross-legged. The ticket was almost the exact length of the tiny diaper and folded up perfectly inside it. He hadn’t changed one diaper in six months, so there was little concern he’d start anytime soon. Especially with the new me being so accommodating and all.

  Once I was through, I rang up my friend, Professor Randall Cunningham at AUB.

  “How nice to hear from you, CC. Everything good with your daughter?”

  “Yes, thank you. I’d like to bring her by campus one day.”

  “That would be great. Nothing brightens up a place like a baby.”

  The only time Walid was unavailable to me was Fridays from 11:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. “Would Friday be good?”

  “I can’t see why not. What time are you thinking?”

  “One o’clock? That way I can stop in during lunch and not bother anyone.” I didn’t want to be too pushy, but the fact was that I couldn’t have cared less if he made time to see Ann Marie or not, and he was likely just being kind; no one is ever terribly excited to see someone’s baby. “Also, do you know if the embassy annex is open on Fridays?” I paused. “I seem to have misplaced my passport.”

  “As far as I know, they are open every day. Shall I check and call you back?”

  “No, thank you. I will be there anyway. It’s no trouble for me to stop in.”

  After hanging up the phone, I went to check on the money I’d been hiding in my lingerie drawer. All was well.

  When Gabriel arrived home that evening, there were lamb chops, tabbouleh, and cabbage rolls with lemon. Even I was impressed. Gabriel came home happy and embraced me before kissing Ann Marie, who was in her bouncy seat atop the dining room table. After dinner, I changed the baby’s diaper and sang her to sleep in her crib.

  Once the kitchen was clean, I poured Gabriel a vodka and a glass of white wine for myself and joined him on the terrace, where he was reading the evening paper. It was a beautiful night, and almost all our neighbors were out on their respective balconies, shouting to each other in conversation.

  “I finally got ahold of Professor Cunningham today. It’s been weeks
since he called asking to see the baby.”

  “How is he doing?”

  “Good, good. I’m going to bring her by there tomorrow to see him and his staff. Remember that wonderful woman who works the front desk?” Distractions. “I think her name was Evelyn or something. Maybe the only woman in Beirut with a southern accent.”

  Gabriel peered over the top of the paper. “Tomorrow is Friday. Walid won’t be able to take you.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Oh, that’s right.” I conjured up a tiny yawn. “I used to walk there all the time, as you remember. It will be nice. I’ll take Ann Marie in the carriage. It’s only about a mile and a half.”

  He shrugged and went back to his paper, leaving me victorious.

  Ann Marie and I spent about thirty minutes with Randall and his staff and then said our goodbyes. The US Embassy in Beirut had a small secondary office on campus to serve the needs of the many foreign students, and I hurried over there as soon as we left the professor.

  I clumsily pushed the carriage through the door, causing a chime to ring as it opened. “I need a new passport,” I said to the man behind the counter. He wore a mustard-colored, short-sleeve button-down shirt with a paisley tie, and his hair was parted way to the left side of his head and slicked down with an impressive amount of grease.

  “Was yours stolen?” He spoke with a French accent.

  “Yes,” I answered without thinking.

  “Then I will need a copy of the police report.” He shuffled some papers he’d been writing on.

  “I’m sorry, no, it wasn’t stolen. I lost it.”

  He finally looked up from what he was doing and faced me, so I smiled at him as I rolled the carriage back and forth to keep the baby quiet. He craned his neck and glanced over at her for a moment.

  He raised a brow. “You sure?”

  “Yes, I misplaced it, and I have a ticket to go home and see my family in just over a week. It will be their first time meeting the baby.” Charm, distract.

  Uninterested, he reached for a form and handed it to me. “You will need to fill this out and bring a copy of your birth certificate along with forty dollars. If you come on a day when our secretary is working and she can get the camera to function properly, we can take your picture here.” He placed the piece of paper on the countertop in front of me.

  “I don’t have a copy of my birth certificate,” I said, crestfallen. “The original is back home in the States.”

  “I’m sorry, but we can’t reissue a new one without it. Can someone send you a copy?”

  “Not in time. Please, there must be something you can do. I used to work with Professor Randall Cunningham in the English department. He can vouch for me.”

  “You could vouch for yourself, if that were the case.”

  “You can call my family in Connecticut and have them verify any information.”

  He motioned to a large poster on the wall with the headline Lost or Stolen Passports. “I do not make the rules, Madame. Come back with a copy of your birth certificate, and I will be happy to get you a new passport.”

  Just then, I heard the door chime behind me.

  “Miss Catherine!” Walid was out of breath. “I’m glad I found you here.”

  I gasped and thanked the Frenchman. “What are you doing here, Walid?”

  A clever more cynical man would’ve questioned me, but Walid was just happy to find us. “Gabriel was worried about you having to walk both ways, and so he asked if I could pick you and Miss Ann Marie up at the professor’s office. At first, I went to the wrong building, and when I found the right building, you had already left. Thankfully, they knew where I could find you.”

  I wanted to kill myself for telling them where I was headed. And Gabriel was worried about me, my ass.

  Walid followed me out of the embassy office and outside into the courtyard. “I need a big favor from you,” I said.

  He was thrilled to accommodate.

  “I’m doing something special for Gabriel, and I had to order it from the embassy office, so please, whatever you do, don’t tell him where you found me, or it will ruin the surprise.”

  He did not hesitate. “I will not say a word. How exciting.”

  “Yes,” I said and gave him a hug. “Thank you.”

  Walid put the carriage in the trunk, and I thanked him profusely for rescuing us from the walk home. “Maybe you can take us out to that market again in the next day or so? I know it’s out of the way, but the lamb was superb.”

  He nodded from the front seat.

  Back in the apartment, I fed Ann Marie her bottle and put her down for a nap. The day had not gone as planned, and I was sure Gabriel would be able to read the disappointment all over my face. I needed to get another call in to Laura to have her order a copy of my birth certificate and ask the travel agent to change the date of the ticket. Something I could possibly do on my own in Beirut, but at the risk of another surprise attack by Walid. The new me was not about to weep about it. The bump in the road home only made me more determined.

  When Gabriel came home that evening, I didn’t have anything planned for dinner, so I suggested the three of us take a walk to a local café and enjoy a meal under the stars. He agreed.

  He ordered us a bottle of wine. “I was glad Walid was able to find you today.”

  My throat tightened. “Me too.”

  “How was everyone at the university?”

  My mind was in overdrive trying to interpret his tone. “Good. It was nice to be back there. It’s such a beautiful campus.” I smiled, wary.

  “I’m so glad to see you happy here.” Gabriel reached for my hand. “Walid is always telling me what a lucky man I am and how much you are always thinking of me. He said you’ve asked him to drive out of the way for the best lamb at another market.” He studied my face. “You’re not hiding anything from me, are you?”

  I shook my head. “Like what?” I blinked. “A secret lamb recipe?”

  He kept his eyes on me and pulled the plane ticket out of his pocket. I thought my heart was going to stop beating at once. I glanced behind him, trying to judge how far we were from the front entrance, and how quickly I could grab the stroller and make my escape. But I could barely breathe, let alone strategize. I thought I might faint if I stood.

  And then he reached for something else. My passport.

  I tried to let out a nervous laugh, play it off as a silly mistake, but my chest became warm, and I began to perspire as I tried to come to grips with what I was seeing.

  “I have something for you.” He held them up and smiled. Upon closer examination, it was not the ticket from the diaper box.

  “I don’t need Walid to tell me how fortunate I am and how wonderful you have been. I’ve been thinking about how much your parents would love to meet their granddaughter and how you never had a real chance to say goodbye to everyone before Christmas last year. Serine is eager to meet her niece as well.”

  If I could have checked my pulse, I would have.

  He continued. “I know you have more belongings you’d like to bring here, but most important are you and Ann Marie. And family.”

  My eyes were the only things I dared to move. He slid the ticket and the passport in front of me.

  “Here you go. I want you to have a Merry Christmas this year.”

  I burst into tears. Every ounce of stress and fear and deception and regret came pouring out of me and onto my cheeks. I quickly reached for a napkin and wiped my face.

  “My darling, I didn’t think you would get so emotional,” he said.

  “Thank you, Gabriel. Thank you so much.” I had to compose myself. “Wow!” I released a laugh and leaned across the table for a kiss.

  Just then, the waiter brought the wine, and I lifted the ticket to read the details. Ann Marie and I would leave Beirut on December 22 and return to Beirut on January 3. Gabriel dismissed the waiter, poured the wine for us himself, and lifted his glass. “To a great trip.”

  We tapped our glas
ses. “Thank you,” I said again. “Will you be coming with us?”

  He shook his head no.

  Chapter Twenty

  ANN MARIE

  Chicago, 2008

  “I knew something was wrong with you. Please tell me what’s going on.”

  “I’m having a hard time getting my words out,” Mom says, now back downstairs and sitting at the kitchen table with my cousin Rory and me. “I feel like it takes me forever to say what I’m thinking or answer a question.” She pauses. “Bring me a piece of paper and a pen.”

  I open the junk drawer next to the fridge and come back with a lined yellow notepad and a ballpoint pen.

  “Watch this.” My mom takes the pen and begins to write a list of names. Mine, Rory’s, her own, and my three boys, and then a few short phrases like hello and how are you. Her handwriting looks immediately skewed, with each word swinging upward at the end.

  She looks up from the paper.

  “I’m taking you to the doctor,” I say without hesitation.

  “We’ll talk about it when you and Jen get back from your trip.”

  I shake my head. “I already told her we’re not going.”

  She shudders. “When did you tell her that?”

  “The minute you stepped out of that Town Car.”

  I’m expecting at least a short debate with her about how I should still go on my vacation, that she came all this way and made it this far, and don’t be silly, I deserve a break. But instead, she just nods, and her eyes well up.

  “I’m taking you to the ER to see a doctor, and whatever he or she says, no matter what, you’re not leaving my side.” I lean over and hug her. “I’m going to take care of you.”

  Her lips curl inward, and she nods again. Rory agrees to wait for the boys when they come home from school.

  An attendee at the emergency room greets us. “Can I help you?”

  “I think my mom had a stroke,” I say.

  She types something into the computer. “Can you give me her symptoms?” she asks me, even though Mom is standing next to me, looking more than capable of commanding a boardroom of people—dressed in full makeup, hair perfect, and not a pearl out of place. I turn and look at her. My mom is only fifty-seven years old, and she’s too young for me to be using the word stroke when describing her. She’s certainly too old for me to be speaking on her behalf, but I do anyway.