Sumaya chuckled and hung up.
Actually, thought Lara, there is nothing but problems. She had far too much to sort out, ranging from Saralandj to Al Barmaka and every complication in between. These included Sumaya, Farah, and the new piece on the chesboard called Apo, whom she mistrusted with a passion.
Finally, a link to home, which was the missing factor in her life. But such enormous risks were involved that it would be crazy to use that link without first figuring out what was behind it. And why was the very guardian of the system, Sumaya herself, who had been so careful to explain to her all the rules, acting as facilitator to what could easily lead to an unforgivable breach of those rules?
She sank into the side armchair in her living room, put her feet up on the ottoman, and drifted into her favorite escape, memories of her father, Saralandj, and Avo. That world had all the answers, if one had the patience to probe. And if some answers were not forthcoming, it only meant that the questions weren’t worth asking in the first place. Her father had taught her that a long time ago. “You don’t have to answer every question that you face in life, Lara,” he had said. “But you do have to choose your questions very carefully. Half the trick is in not dwelling on the stupid questions that have no answers. People can waste a very frustrating lifetime on those. Choose your questions carefully, just as you choose your fights. Don’t lose sight of your ultimate objective. Ask yourself, what are you trying to achieve? That’s what the questions you ask should help you with. If they don’t, they’re not worth asking in the first place.” Right now Lara was just plain confused.
What surprised her was that she was now remembering all this. These were the random conversations she had had with her father while she helped him graft the trees or water the vegetable garden. They did not seem to be important at the time, as they were just passing the time while doing chores. One day her father had told her about the virtues of living within one’s means. “My father taught me this, Lara, and now I hope I can pass it on to you. He used to say that the greatest dignity and greatest freedom came from living within one’s means. Do you understand that? That means you are never beholden or indebted to anyone. You are your own master. Think about it, Lara. One day you’ll understand it better.”
He lived by those words, thought Lara. He actually practiced that all his life.
How she wished she could have a conversation with her father now. Why couldn’t he just appear in her living room, and tell her what to do? She had some good questions for him, the kind he’d agree are worth asking.
It was close to four in the afternoon when Sumaya knocked on her door. She came in bothered, complaining about all the chores that she had to do on any given day, and how incompetent some of the employees in their compound were. She especially had complaints about Manoj, Al Barmaka’s business manager, whose responsibilities in certain areas overlapped with hers, creating a source of tension between the two. Everyone knew that there were no clear job descriptions for household employees in the Gulf region. One did everything the master asked. Period. This was not like a local bank where some British or American consultant had drawn up a detailed human resources manual, outlining the duties, responsibilities and rights of every employee. This was the private jungle, and depending on his whims or, more frequently, on his instincts, Al Barmaka would ask Manoj to do something that was in Sumaya’s realm of responsibilities, or vice versa. That would create tension, which was ultimately useful to Al Barmaka. It was never helpful if all key employees in the palace liked and trusted each other. Competition and mistrust were actually helpful in the long run, even if they led to various dysfunctionalities in the short term.
Sumaya perched on the sofa and accepted the glass of water offered by Lara, fanning herself with the flat of her hand. Akh ya ana, akh ya ana…she kept saying as she fanned. Oh me, oh me…
“Ms. Sumaya, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Can I help with anything?”
“That’s sweet of you, habibty, thank you, but unfortunately this is something I have to handle myself. Just normal everyday problems, but they have to be attended to nonetheless.”
“But what’s the matter?” asked Lara, sounding genuinely concerned.
“Oh, it’s that stupid Manoj. He is impossible. And his way of talking annoys me. I have to admit that part of this is just a personal dislike of the guy. But he is the one who is supposed to arrange all travel plans for everyone, from Sir on down to the gardener, but he likes passing half those details off to me. So now I have to arrange not only for Sir’s return from his trip to the UK, but also two of the maids have to go on home leave, and I have to sort that out too. This is his job, not mine.”
That was a mouthful and Lara had to absorb the significance of it all. First, she was arranging for Al Barmaka’s return, which would be valuable information for her, because she usually was in the dark as far as his comings and goings were concerned. He would disappear for a few days, and sometimes for a whole week, and only when he returned would he tell her about his trip or at least the fact that he had been out of town. Second, she mentioned two maids going on ‘home leave’. What was that all about? Was Sumaya dropping a hint? Was it fine for the maids to go on home leave, but not for the queen on the chessboard?
“Maybe I can get you some chamomile tea, Ms. Sumaya?” asked Lara. “It helps you relax.”
“Okay, habibty, yes, thank you.”
Lara went to the kitchen and plugged in the electric teapot. The water started boiling in just a minute. She put two tea bags of chamomile, a small dish of honey, a teaspoon, and a teacup on a tray and brought them out to Sumaya.
“Here,” she said, “it will be better with some honey. This honey isn’t bad. We used to have our own hives in my village; that honey was very pure, but this comes pretty close.”
If you can drop hints, she thought, so can I. Let’s see where you go with this one.
Sumaya sipped the tea gratefully.
“So what was the story with Farah and Apo?” asked Lara when she was satisfied that Sumaya had calmed down a bit.
“Oh, nothing important, really,” said Sumaya, trying to make light of it. “She got all excited because Apo is an old friend, and she thought there might be a connection there for you. That’s all.”
“Ms. Sumaya, I’m going to trust you with some information, but I do not want this to go past the two of us, okay?”
“Of course, habibty, you can tell me anything.”
“My family does not know where I am. They probably still think that I am a model in Greece. That’s what Ayvazian told my mother, and that’s what my mother told me. That’s what we all believed when I left home. I have had no contact with them, or them with me.” Lara’s voice was beginning to shake a bit, and she could not stop her eyes from getting moist. Sumaya seemed genuinely moved; she took Lara’s hands in hers and held them tightly, then gave her a warm hug.
“Leila, habibty, I understand; I understand fully. You don’t have to say anything more. I know these situations, and it is not very different from my own. It is a classic dilemma. You want to keep in touch with home, but how do you keep up the lie?”
“Thank you, Ms. Sumaya,” was all that Lara could say.
“That’s why I was telling you that after awhile you stop wanting to go back. Every day that you live a secret life apart from your family takes you a step further away from them. You are a stranger to them already, and they are strangers to you.”
Lara was not ready to accept that fate. She felt it was time to probe further.
“Ms. Sumaya, when you introduced me to Farah and allowed her to tell me about Apo, what were you expecting me to do? Did you want me to talk to Apo myself?”
“I did not expect you to do anything that you were not comfortable with, Leila. As I said, it never hurts to have options.”
“Options? Options to do what? Will you allow me to contact home, just like Farah contacts her friends?”
“Would you like to contact home?”
> “Yes,” said Lara gently. “I’ve wanted to ever since I left, but they wouldn’t let me. Everyone has either advised against it or downright forbade it. So I assumed you’d oppose it also. But then you let Farah tell me about Apo, so I’m wondering if it is possible to for me to try.”
“Leila, listen,” said Sumaya choosing her words carefully. “This is a private home, so there is no absolute yes or no. It depends on your intentions, on what you plan to tell them, on what type of follow up conversations will then be required once you make your first contact, and all kinds of things. Everything here is very private, and that is better for you as well. Sir does not like it at all when the setup here is discussed outside. And he believes in prevention, rather than having to sort out problems later on. And prevention often means not starting things that seem harmless but which can lead to complications later. Do you understand, Leila?”
“Some of it, yes. The privacy, I understand. But what do you mean by complications and prevention?”
“We had a girl here a few years ago, and I let her call home. Her case was actually simpler than yours. She was from Morocco and her parents knew exactly where she was and what she was doing. In fact, they had made the arrangements for her to come here, so I did not think any harm could come from her calling home. Well, it turned out that when she called she found out that her father had been arrested and was in jail in Morocco, for smuggling or something like that, and her mother was crying her heart out, begging her daughter to do something to help. Now in this place that turned into a major complication. The girl first pleaded with me, and of course I could do nothing. And then, against my strongest advice and warnings, she brought it up with Sir one night, begging him to use his influence to free her father. That was it.”
“What happened?” asked Lara.
“He just left her place without saying anything. The next morning we packed her things and sent her back home to Morocco. She was crying so hard that my heart bled for her. She did not want to leave. This place was perfect for her. She had lost everything. But it was over. Sir absolutely refuses to be involved in any family matters. And he was furious with me for letting her call home. He ordered me never to let anyone do it again. That’s the prevention part. Now do you understand?”
“Yes,” said Lara, wondering if that was her way out. What if someone didn’t want to stay? Would they send her back home, or back to Ayvazian? She was almost sure that the answer was Ayvazian. They’d send her back to whomever they had bought her from. The Moroccan girl was lucky, she thought, as she had been sent here by her own family. And then the irony of that thought hit her so hard that she started crying. Sumaya could not even guess what the real reason for her sudden outburst was; she just assumed that Lara missed home.
“Sorry,” said Lara wiping her tears. “Yes, I do understand about the complications now. I promise you I would never mention anything to Sir about my family. And I will not abuse your kindness, by asking to call often. My family is a simple peasant family; I don’t think anyone is in jail, and my father is dead. The worst thing that I fear is that my mother may be very ill. She did not look good at all when I left home. She had not slept properly for over a month. That’s the worst thing I may find out, and there would be nothing that either I or anybody else could do about that. So no complications, Ms. Sumaya. I promise.”
Sumaya was touched. She genuinely liked Lara and she wished that she did not pose such a threat to the established status quo. She also felt a strong instinct to try and protect her. Sumaya, tough and business-like as she was, still had an old fashioned sense of guild-like loyalty to the girls that she managed. Of course it would be entirely different if one of the girls broke the rules or, even worse, betrayed her. Then she’d show no mercy.
“Okay,” said Sumaya at last, “do you have a number you’d like to call?”
Lara did not. She had to explain to Sumaya her scheme of calling the post office of Aparan, leaving a message for her brother, and then calling back at a pre-specified time. No one in her family had a phone, she explained, and there was no landline at their house. If any of her family members had acquired a phone, she said, she did not have the number. So this was the only way.
Sumaya pondered the situation. This really was quite unusual. No phones. This was unheard of anywhere in the Middle East, no matter how poor or backward. Calling the post office of the largest town next to the village sounded complicated and seemed like it would leave a trail. But she was determined to let Lara give it a try.
“We’ll use my cell phone,” she said. “The landlines can all be monitored more easily. Now Leila, you understand that I will hold you to your promise of no complications, right? I hope you also understand the personal risk that I am taking in allowing this.”
“I understand, Ms. Sumaya. And I really appreciate this. I will keep my promise.”
Sumaya called the international operator, reached Armenia and handed the phone to Lara. It was not difficult to get connected to the post office in Aparan. The person answering the phone knew of Lara and the Galians, even though Lara did not know him. To be on the safe side, he said they should allow at least an hour for him to send someone up to the village and have someone from her family come down to the post office.
Sumaya asked Lara to go to her place and wait for an hour before they tried again. She left Lara in her living room with some magazines and went into her bedroom office to make a couple of phone calls. She returned after a while, looking more relaxed.
“Finally,” she said, “it’s all set. Sir’s jet will pick him up the day after tomorrow from Heathrow. He’ll be home by evening. And the maids’ home leave is arranged. Sometimes the only way to be sure that something is arranged properly is to do it yourself.”
She sat next to Lara on the sofa.
“Is it time to call back?” she asked.
“We can wait ten more minutes, if you don’t mind,” said Lara. “I’m really sorry I am imposing on your time like this. I know how busy you are.”
“No problem, habibty. I want you to get this out of your system.”
The maid brought tea and pastries, served them both and left.
Sumaya picked up her cell phone and called again, this time directly to the number of the post office in Aparan, then handed the phone to Lara. Lara introduced herself again.
“Oh yes,” said the voice, “one minute.”
“Alo?”
“Lara jan, du es? Dear Lara, it is you?”
“Ha, yes em, yes, it’s me,” said Lara, somewhat surprised by the female voice on the phone. She had expected Avo. But this was neither Avo nor her mother. At first she did not recognize the voice.
“Lara jan, vonts es? Jan, tsavd tanem, shat em karotel. How are you? I’ve missed you so much.”
“Martha?” said Lara.
“Ha jan, Marthan a. Yes, it’s Martha.”
“Martha jan, I’ve missed you all so much too. I cannot even begin to tell you. How is everything? How is everyone? I can’t talk long.”
“We’re fine,” said Martha, but Lara could already tell that she had started crying. “All is very well now, thanks to you, Lara jan. Thanks to you. I got married, and we’ve paid all the debts. And everyone is fine, except Mama.”
“You got married?” asked Lara, preferring to speak about the good news first. “Congratulations, Kurig jan. That is great news! How is Ruben?”
“He’s great, really great. He’s been a great help to us.”
“Now tell me about Mama. What is the problem?”
“She’s very ill, Lara. Very ill. The doctors have given us no hope. We don’t know how much longer she has, to tell the truth.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“She has cancer. It just got worse after you left. We’ve tried everything. They all say it’s hopeless.”
“And where is Avo? Why didn’t he come with you?”
Lara had dreaded asking that question the moment she heard Martha’s voice on the phone.
So he is angry at me. My dreams were right, she thought. Why wouldn’t he come to speak to me otherwise?
“Oh, Avo is not here right now. He left for Vayots Dzor for a few days.”
Vayots Dzor? She knew that’s where Ayvazian was from. That’s where her father had gone never to return alive. Lara felt her heart sink to her stomach. This couldn’t possibly be good. Even though she had not yet made the connection between her father’s death and Ayvazian, something about Avo being in Vayots Dzor sent shivers down her spine. She took a deep breath to calm herself, then asked, “What is Avo doing in Vayots Dzor?”
“Oh, you won’t remember this, but there is this old friend of Papa’s by the name of Gagik. He came here recently with a guy from overseas, some Armenian from Switzerland. Anyway, that guy had been here before, and he was asking a lot of questions about Papa, you and Mama. He is a very nice man, Lara. Anyway, he invited Avo to visit him in Vayots Dzor. Apparently he has a fancy dacha there. He should be back in a few days.”
“He was asking questions about us?”
“Yes,” said Martha, very much aware that there were people in the post office who were openly listening to the conversation. She did not want to tell Lara that the man was also asking questions about Ayvazian. That would be an entirely unnecessary disclosure, which could lead to more questions in the village. The villagers knew better than to bring those names up in phone conversations. Martha had no idea about Laurian’s obsession with Ayvazian, nor any idea of how he had wronged her sister, and yet instinct told her not to say his name aloud in public.
“What kind of questions? What does he know about me?”
“He only knows what we told him,” said Martha carefully, lowering her voice. “Nothing important. He is a very good man. As I said, Avo is spending a few days with him. And he now has a cell phone. Maybe you can call him directly. Do you want the number?”
“Of course!” Lara almost yelled, scrambling to find a pen in her purse. Sumaya, without understanding a word of the conversation, had already sensed what was going on and quickly produced a piece of paper and a pen for her.
A Place Far Away Page 25