Glass Collector

by Anna Perera

  It’s the kind of party where the old people are smiling and talking nonstop, and the little kids are climbing under the table and pulling the grown-ups’ clothes. The teenagers are bored out of their skulls and would rather be watching TV, talking about football or, better still, crowded round Sami’s computer.

  But it’s slightly better than the engagement party because there’s more food and no crazy pig running wild. Jacob soon brings them each a plastic glass overflowing with melon juice. Aaron drops the paper plate on the floor before reaching for the drink. The second Jacob nods at the door, suggesting they leave, the music blares out louder, battering the room. They step outside into the pure Mokattam night. Aaron gazes at the halo of smog hovering over the distant city lights and wonders if Rachel is asleep or awake.

  Aaron doesn’t see the stacks of garbage as he carefully winds his way to the tenements, head down, eyes half closed and Jacob whistling behind him. The pungent smells drift over him while his mind forms a picture of a hospital bed with Rachel curled up in pain. The tube in her arm, which hangs from a blood bag on a metal stand, is like one of many he’s touched while out with Jacob this morning. He can see the rich red color trickling down it. Tomorrow there’ll be more blood bags and, when he feels the leathery plastic between his fingers, he’ll think of her.

  “What is love anyway?” Aaron asks before he can stop himself.

  But Jacob doesn’t tease him. Instead, whistling while he thinks, his friend suddenly stops and says, “It’s when you feel sick inside and you can’t think straight because you’ve turned into a snake.”

  “A snake?” Aaron’s baffled. “Why a snake?”

  “Snakes get stuck in mud and can’t get out. Like people in love. Yeah.” Jacob’s pleased with his answer. “You’ve had it then.”

  “Stuck in mud? That’s stupid, Jacob.” He decides to change the topic. “What happened to the spray paint?”

  “You don’t think I’ve forgotten, do you?” Jacob looks smug all of a sudden. “Follow me!”

  Drunk on the effects of the still, bright night, food, and melon juice, he darts into the side alley where Daniel lives.

  Jacob longs to make a name for himself as something more than Noha’s son who’s a medical-waster. He’s not good-looking like Aaron or sweet like Abe. The only gift he has is not being seen at night when he sprays messages around the village. He started off small, doing small ankhs and scarabs, but now he sprays words and sometimes whole sentences.

  Dark and gloomy, the concrete hovels resemble entrances to underground caves where visitors have urinated on the rubbish. Quick as a flash, Jacob reaches for a plastic bag that’s closest to Daniel’s tiny home. Behind it is a small can of red paint he hid earlier. He waves it in the air and a cloud of flies swarm to sniff the silver can. Jacob laughs when Aaron starts head-butting them.

  “Ready?”

  Jacob strains to see Aaron’s face as they creep up Daniel’s stairs but it’s too dark. Two seconds later, they peer through the shadows at the thin mattress on the floor, which is covered by a striped sheet with a red, folded blanket at the end and, side by side, two blue embroidered pillows. Someone has sprinkled lotus petals on the pillows and the smell is sickly sweet. There’s a church-sized candle on the floor and a print of the Ten Commandments stuck to the wall. A deathly quiet adds to the atmosphere of disbelief as they imagine Daniel and Shareen lying there together.

  Aaron starts to feel restless. It doesn’t seem right, standing here and thinking what he’s thinking.

  “Hurry up,” he hisses.

  Wondering what message to leave, Jacob hesitates for a second before flipping the lid from the spray can and misting the air with a burst of red paint. He moves quickly, holding the can tight, his skinny body leaping after the letters he paints across the floor. In the silence, the spraying sounds like whispering—until Aaron groans.

  “You can’t write that!”

  “Why not?” Jacob pauses to admire his work. LOVE IS GOOD FOR THE SOUL.

  “Where did you get that from?” Aaron’s never heard such a stupid thing.

  “I overheard Habi talking to his friend last week.”

  Jacob’s anxious to get out of here before the so-called happy couple return. Without another word they sneak into the night. Jacob slips the paint can back into its hiding place until he needs it again.

  It’s late. Rachel’s almond eyes flash through Aaron’s mind. A large cloud covers the murky moon as they make their way through the darkness and Aaron comes to the conclusion that Jacob’s never been in love. This feeling inside—this bewildering, overpowering warmth that rises up whenever he thinks of Rachel—is so normal to him now that he wonders how he ever lived without it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rubies

  Wearing the same threadbare clothes as yesterday, Aaron twists on the wooden board of the cart to find a comfortable spot to sit as they wend their way through the traffic on the main highway. Already this morning, they’ve cleared two hospitals of waste, and the drifting smell of disinfectant and warm plastic mixed with car fumes is getting to him. Then there are the flies that keep buzzing around his face.

  Every day for the last week, Jacob has patiently forced the pony to go another three miles across the city to the hospital where Rachel is. Every day, he’s tied the pony to the thorn tree beside the entrance to the car park so that Aaron can jump off and race inside. Every day, within five minutes, Aaron returns, having been refused permission to get in the lift or climb the stairs to the wards by the woman on the reception desk. Every day, Aaron insists on trying again, even though Jacob’s running out of patience.

  “This is the last time,” Jacob warns as the cart stops beside the thorn tree. “I’m not kidding!”

  “I’ll see her today. I will. Just you wait.”

  Deep inside, Aaron can’t help believing that he really will see Rachel. From the rumors circulating in Mokattam, Rachel is doing well. She’s had the operation on her left leg and two steel plates have been inserted for her bones to grow along, and the doctors have been incredible and haven’t stolen her liver. As long as she doesn’t get ill, especially with a virus like swine flu, she should be home in a month.

  Swine flu! Aaron worries and worries about swine flu. Now he’s growing angry with the families who are hiding pigs in their homes in Mokattam. He’s tempted to report Abe’s mom and the rest of them to the authorities in order to save Rachel from getting the disease when she eventually comes home. These things are on his mind as he pats his hair and straightens his shoulders to walk through the plain doors of the modern hospital.

  A pregnant woman in a navy headscarf briefly looks Aaron up and down when he steps aside for her to enter first. Three children scurry after her and Aaron quickens his pace as the rat-a-tat door shuts behind him. He follows them, pretending to be part of the family as they hurry for the elevator.

  The stairs are at the far side of the foyer so not worth running for. Out of the corner of his eye, Aaron can see the receptionist talking to a man in baggy jeans with long hair who’s nervous about something. As bad as it would be to get caught now, Aaron knows he can get to the elevator before the receptionist has time to come around her desk to stop him. Luckily, she’s busy and for once doesn’t notice Aaron as the elevator door clacks open and then shut.

  Aaron doesn’t know what to do. He’s never been holed up in an elevator before. He’s only seen elevator doors open and close when peeping into hotel foyers. Yesterday, someone said that Rachel was on the tenth floor, but the buttons on the wall here don’t look capable of sending the elevator that far on their own. There’s no steering wheel or engine or anything inside the metal box. When the woman asks him where he’s going, Aaron blurts out, “To see my friend.”

  The woman presses the button for the third floor and the elevator shoots into action. Shocked by the sudden movement, which makes his hair stand on end, and knowing he might as well have the word Zabbaleen stamped across his forehe
ad, Aaron doubts the woman believes he has a friend in this hospital.

  When the elevator reaches the third floor and the woman and children give Aaron a final once-over before getting out, he sighs with relief that the corridor is empty of people. He presses the button for the tenth floor, feeling strangely powerful when the elevator shoots upward. It feels so good, he’s half tempted to go back down and come up again. He’d like to play around here, but the idea of seeing Rachel eclipses the excitement of riding in the lift.

  “Room nineteen, the tenth floor,” Aaron mutters to himself as the elevator rattles to a stop. He eagerly brushes past two men in white coats and braces himself for being caught and thrown out as he creeps down the hallway, searching for the correct room.

  The sound of pattering feet echoes down the wide corridor. The familiar smell of disinfectant is mixed with polish and fly spray. Weirdly, no one seems interested in him as doctors, nurses, and workers pushing trolleys hurry on by and Aaron starts to sweat the closer he gets to Rachel’s room. At last he slows down. He’s nearly there, but what’s he going to say?

  A young man shuffles past on crutches, leaving a whiff of strong aftershave behind. Gazing at the number 19 as if it’s the start of a terrifying ordeal, Aaron feels his knees almost give way. When a burst of crying from a baby in a nearby room closes in on him, the smell, noise, and feel of damp linoleum under his feet turn the number 19 into a giddy blur. Kicking against the instinct to run, Aaron barges through the door like a wild animal and, hand on the perfume bottle in his pocket, and swings round to face Rachel, who is asleep in bed.

  In the heavenly afternoon light, her coppery hair gleams and the blue sheet and creamy pillow are like a wide sky with a perfect cloud. The cage that has been placed under the sheet to protect Rachel’s leg makes her look like a floating angel. She’s so lovely it almost hurts him to look. Aaron stamps the picture in his mind and seals it tight.

  But what’s the crumpled piece of paper clasped in her hand?

  He peers at a crinkled, serrated edge of glossy white paper that looks as if it’s been cut from a magazine. It’s a picture of something. He’s tempted to twist it from her but doesn’t want to wake her up, she’s sleeping so deeply. If the clacking noise from the corridor would only stop, he could listen to the gentle pattern of her breathing. With nothing in the room but a glass of water on the bedside table to distract him from her peaceful face, Aaron stares and stares until a band of smog outside the window smothers the sun and the light in the room changes from creamy white to a dusty yellow.

  By the time Aaron creeps from the room forty minutes have passed.

  Jacob isn’t happy. Sitting under the thorn tree, watching cars come and go with sick kids and women clutching their swollen bellies, is testing his patience. Hospitals scare him. He pulls a white packet of out-of-date pills from his shirt pocket and swallows three.

  Lolling around in the still heat doesn’t feel so bad, though he’s coming to the rapid conclusion that Aaron’s the most selfish person he’s ever met. In fact, there are lots of reasons why Aaron’s getting on his nerves. First, he eats too much. Even Noha’s been complaining about the amount of rice he puts away each day. Then, Aaron ignores Wadida, his sister, who clearly likes him. Fatima with the Filthy Mouth says he’s got the devil in him. “Just look in his eyes.”

  Since she said that, Jacob’s been watching Aaron closely. Shareen told him that Aaron prefers to be on his own because he doesn’t trust anyone, and who knows why he keeps asking for a lift to the perfume shop. Since Aaron’s come to live with him, Jacob’s been feeling more and more hemmed in.

  When at last Aaron appears from the hospital, Jacob’s had enough. “Where have you been?”

  “I was watching over Rachel,” Aaron says, and smiles.

  Jacob isn’t keen on that self-satisfied smile.

  “She getting better?”

  “I dunno.”

  Aaron climbs up and that’s it. He doesn’t say another word. There’s a strange look on his face as he stares at the traffic—lost in his own world. His silence not only leaves Jacob dangling but widens the gap between them. That’s it. Jacob’s had enough. Ferrying Aaron back and forth is finished. The sooner he moves out of his home the better.

  Over the last few days, when the cart enters Mokattam through the stone arch that leads to the tunnel of shops and stalls, Shareen has darted out of the shadows of the laundry and forced Jacob to stop. Today’s no different.

  “Hiya,” she yells, glad to see them.

  “What is it now?” Jacob sighs.

  Each time he’s been ready for her to mention the message he left on the floor on her wedding night. But every day she makes a different excuse for preventing them from going home.

  Shuffling to the side of the cart, Shareen glares at Aaron, desperate for his attention. There’s a hint of jealousy on her face when she asks, “How’s Rachel doing?”

  “What?” Aaron eyes Jacob with suspicion. He hasn’t told anyone they’ve been going to the hospital, so it must be down to him that Shareen knows.

  Curling the sleeve of her navy galabeya between her fingers, Shareen sniffs. “Don’t pretend.” A whiff of used bandages from the cart and the drowning smell of decaying garbage force her to cover her nose for a second. From the glimpse of her short fingernails and red knuckles, Aaron guesses she’s been scrubbing clothes or sorting garbage. Something her father never made her do. Clearly her days of learning to weave and make cards are over now that she’s Daniel’s wife.

  “Well?”

  Determined not to let them pass without getting an answer, Shareen plants herself in front of them and, when Jacob tries to steer round her, she buries her nose in the pony’s neck, nuzzling him as if her life depends on it. Her over-the-top affection forces a woman with tangled gray hair to stop picking up cigarette butts and stand and watch. It’s hard to stay back when Shareen’s making such a fuss of the skinny pony.

  With a sack of oranges on his shoulder, Habi stumbles past, eyeing her strange behavior, then pauses to smile at Jacob.

  Jacob ignores him, even though he’s a close friend of his mother.

  “How’s Rachel doing?” Shareen barks at Aaron again.

  Aaron nods. “Tell you at the wall later.”

  Shocked, Habi drops the sack of oranges and widens his eyes. Jacob catches the surprise on his face and nudges Aaron. “You idiot!” he says under his breath. “She’s married. You can’t just arrange to meet her like that.”

  Startled by the hiss of anger in Jacob’s words, Aaron frowns. He’s been acting weird lately but has never called him an idiot before. The pony lifts a knee and walks on as Jacob snaps the reins.

  “I’m not staying married,” Shareen yells at the top of her voice as Habi shakes his head.

  “That girl’s nothing but trouble,” Jacob finishes.

  With each clip-clop of the pony, the calm of Mokattam soon replaces the madness of Cairo. When at last they pull up to unload the cart outside the tenement, Aaron bites his thumb to try and remove a splinter under his nail. His hands are covered in scratches but only the splinter bothers him as they tip syringes, bandages, empty blood bags, tubes, beakers, unmarked bottles, plastic gloves, and torn gowns onto the path for sorting. It feels as if the gods are rolling the sun into his eyes as Aaron catches sight of something bright and sparkling in the blurry heap beneath his feet.

  Jacob folds and slaps the last plastic bag flat. He’s about to fetch his mother and sisters to sort the waste when Aaron startles him by picking something delicate out of the hospital debris.

  “Hey! Hey!” Aaron cries, holding a pink stone necklace to the sky. It shimmers in the sunlight.

  “Rubies?” Awestruck, Jacob touches the glittering stones and thin gold chain. “Where did you find it?”

  Aaron eyes the mound of medical waste at his feet and visions of the hospitals they’ve cleared shoot through his mind. They both stare hard at a broken clipboard, empty soap dispenser, soiled banda
ges and tissues, trying to work out where and how this expensive necklace was lost.

  “Give it to the priest,” Jacob says.

  “No way,” Aaron shouts. “Are you crazy?”

  “You are if you think you can keep it. Everyone knows you’re a thief!”

  Jacob’s words are like a knife to Aaron’s stomach. “I don’t take anything from the Zabbaleen.”

  “It could be worth a lot of money. You should give it back,” Jacob says.

  “You’re mad. What about the perfumes? You didn’t say anything then.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t listen. That’s why,” Jacob sighs. Aaron slips the necklace in his pocket. It hits the glass perfume bottle with a tinkling that he dares Jacob to notice. Heart racing, he’s furious that Jacob’s staring at him in that superior way. He found the necklace. He’ll decide what to do with it, not Jacob.

  Confusion adds to Aaron’s trembling as he wanders to the doorway of the tenement, desperate for food, but Jacob runs at him and slams him against the wall. Aaron gasps, doubling up with shock that Jacob is prepared to hurt him to get what he wants. Struggling and twisting to prevent him from plucking the necklace from his pocket, he slaps Jacob’s elbow from his neck. There’s something laughable in the grunts they make, pushing and kneeing each other like five- year-olds, until Aaron accepts Jacob’s desperation is real and lifts the sparkling rubies from his pocket and hands them to him.

  From the look of surprise on his face, Jacob reacts as if he’s been given a fist of maggots. Sweat rolls into his thick eyebrows as he gently takes the necklace and races up the concrete stairs to tell his mother and sisters.