Ghady & Rawan

by Fatima Sharafeddine

  Rawan doesn’t find her mom in the kitchen making lunch, like she usually does at this time of day. She must be outside somewhere. Rawan heads towards her room to dump her things and change her clothes. The phone rings several times before she’s able to pick it up. Her sweater is stuck on her head, and she can’t get it off. She passes the receiver under the sweater and is about to answer, but then stops. She hears a woman’s voice on the other end saying, “I’m worried about you. I’m checking to make sure you’re okay. Have you told your family yet?” Then a voice Rawan knows all too well answers—her dad’s. She hadn’t smelled his cigarette smoke when she first came home. She didn’t even know he was here.

  “No, I don’t dare tell them anything yet. But I’ll do it soon. I don’t know how they’ll react.”

  “I think they’ll accept how things are now. Don’t worry, this too shall pass,” the female voice comforts him.

  Rawan pulls the receiver away from her ear. She doesn’t want to hear any more. She can’t believe what she’s hearing. She’s stuck in her stubborn sweater, with the receiver still in her hand. She doesn’t know what to do. Should she hang up? But then he might hear the click and find out she was eavesdropping the whole time. Rawan feels herself sweating buckets, her heart racing. Her head is spinning. She grasps the receiver, and it almost slips out of her hand because it’s so sweaty. She regains her composure and raises the phone to her ear again, horrified by what she might hear next. Thankfully, all she hears is “toooot.” The female speaker, who had revealed why her father had started acting differently all of a sudden, had hung up. He’s definitely seeing another woman.

  Rawan sets the phone down on the floor. She grabs at the sweater on her head with both hands and pulls with all her might. She feels the woolen threads rip apart, one after the other. She keeps on pulling and pulling until she’s shredded the whole sweater. Now, she can pass it around her waist, not just her head. Rawan holds the sweater and flings it to the ground. She stares at it, her gaze both victorious and spiteful. This beautiful, colorful woolen sweater that she had insisted on buying because she had fallen in love with it, even though it was too tight around her neck. This sweater that always fought her when she tried to put it on or take it off—it won’t bother her anymore after today. It will no longer be an important piece of clothing in her closet. Here it is: torn apart, broken, injured, bleeding colored threads in all directions.

  Only a few moments later, Rawan’s gaze of victory and contempt turns to one of endless sadness. She hugs what is left of this sweater that bore the brunt of her anger, as if it were behind everything that’s happening. She buries her face in it and sobs.

  UNPLEASANT SURPRISE

  ON MONDAY, when Ghady gets to school, he doesn’t know what to expect from Michael. Will Thomas tell him what happened on Friday when Ghady was over at his house? If he does, will that make Michael’s bullying even worse?

  Ghady doesn’t have to wait long for answers. He steps out of class at the afternoon break and is walking alone, looking for a friend, when Larry comes up. Larry holds Ghady’s arm so nobody can see and whispers: “Follow me.”

  Ghady follows. If he refuses, it’s just going to give Michael another chance to mock him for being a coward. He shakes his arm out of Larry’s grip and walks beside him until they get to the gym. Ghady’s surprised: as soon as he gets close to the group, he’s surrounded. Sam, Andy, and Larry circle him so that he can’t escape. Then Michael steps up and puts a joint in Ghady’s mouth, whether he wants it or not. Ghady tries to defend himself, to slip away, but the boys are stronger than him, and they won’t let him leave until he’s smoked with them. Ghady takes a drag from the wet cigarette still in Michael’s grip. Then Ghady pushes past the boys and falls down, the joint slipping from between his lips and landing on the ground. Michael snaps it up.

  “Are you with us or what?” he says. “It’s easy, just like you saw with Thomas. And it feels good. Am I right? So bring twenty euro, and I’ll give you a bunch of these joints.”

  Ghady stands up. Now that he finds himself free of the boys’ hands, he starts to run away from them, their high-pitched laughter striking his ears like bullets.

  That night, when he’s alone in his room, Ghady slides a rap CD into his stereo. He puts on his headphones and pushes the volume all the way up. He sits on his bed. Crying. He’s still in shock from what happened to him two days ago, at Thomas’s, and now today. He’s still trying to take it in.

  He pictures everything that happened: Was it for real? Thomas played this game to tighten their grip on him even more. He betrayed Ghady’s trust.

  So the boys are smoking dope at school—what should he do? Should he tell his parents so they’ll report it to the school principal? No. What if Michael finds out? He will definitely get his revenge. Should he tell Rawan that things have gotten worse since what happened at Thomas’s? No. Definitely not. That will just give her a bad idea of his school and of him. Although maybe things are already over between them, since she hasn’t answered his last message. The idea of losing his friendship with Rawan scares him. Should he tell Zeina? No. He doesn’t want her to come with her friends and defend him.

  Ghady stops the music and picks up his oud. He adjusts the strings and starts to play the songs he’s been learning the last two weeks. He plays fiercely. He plays until his fingers buzz from the pressure of the strings, since he’s forgotten to use a pick. He gets tired. Stops playing.

  But sleep doesn’t come easily that night. Ghady tosses and turns on his mattress. He kicks the covers and throws them on the floor, only to pick them up again to cover himself from head to toe. He does this a couple of times before he finally drifts off.

  In the morning, as soon as he opens his eyes, Ghady remembers what happened yesterday. The idea of going back to school scares him. Michael and his group might grab him again. He shakes his head and says to himself: But I shouldn’t be scared, even if there are a lot of them. I have friends, too.

  CONFUSION AND WORRY

  THAT DAY, RAWAN doesn’t leave her room. She stays there until nighttime, her closed eyes able to catch only an hour or two of sleep. She doesn’t dare venture out and bump into her dad. She doesn’t want to hug or kiss him like she usually does. She doesn’t know how to face him, how to look at him, or what to say. Should she yell in his face and share all the anger that is burning inside her? Should she tell him that the way she feels about him changed in a matter of seconds—after he had been the best father she could’ve ever asked for, after she couldn’t even express exactly how much she loved him? Or should she beg him to reconsider any decision that might destroy and scatter her family?

  Rawan also doesn’t want to see her mom. When her mom comes into the room telling Rawan it’s time to eat, Rawan gives her a sideways glance, making it clear that she is busy reading her book. She says that she ate at school, feels tired, and just wants to lie down and sleep.

  Rawan doesn’t dare look into her mom’s eyes. She’s afraid her mom will read her thoughts. Her mom is amazing at that. She has this uncanny ability to pull information out of her, even when Rawan is trying to hide it. Rawan feels for her and is afraid of how shocked her mother will be. She won’t tell her anything now. She’ll wait to see what happens. But she asks herself, Is it possible Mama already knows?

  Rawan sits at her desk and decides to write to Ghady, her friend who she needs now more than ever. He’s the only one of her friends who knows what her family dynamics are really like. He’ll understand why she feels the way she does, and he’ll try to help her out. But should she tell him everything? She hesitates, then opens her email. She finds a message from him waiting and starts to read it, hoping it will cheer her up a little. But to her dismay, his email ties her stomach in more knots.

  Monday, December 8, 2008

  My dear friend,

  Close to my heart, but far away, and sometimes stupid, Ghady . . . It seems we’re both having problems at the same time. I’m surprised by wha
t you wrote about weed in your email. For a second, I thought you were kidding. I honestly can’t believe you would even think about trying it. I know you pretty well, which is why I’m surprised. Even though your new adventures make me worry, I’m happy because at least you told me what happened, and I feel better about the whole thing because you admit it was wrong and said you won’t do it again. Please Ghady, stay away from Thomas so he can’t pressure you again. Otherwise, I might end up annoyed with you forever, my sometimes-stupid friend.

  On my end, I’m anxious and tired because, for a while now, I can feel that there’s a rift between my parents. It’s started to change the atmosphere in the house, and it’s affecting me personally, too. I’ll give you the details later.

  I’m waiting for your reply. Tell me what’s up with you.

  Rawan

  WHAT NOW?

  GHADY STEPS ONTO THE playground and his heart freezes. Even though he’s trying to be tough, he feels scared. He doesn’t look right or left. He keeps his eyes fixed on the ground, moving between the other students until he gets to his classroom. As soon as he steps inside, his eyes meet Thomas’s, who points to his pocket and tips his head, as if asking if he has brought the twenty euros. Ghady is so disappointed in his alleged friend! He ignores him and sits down in his place beside Daniel. And when the class starts, Ghady tries to focus on the math lesson, even though he can’t hear anything. All he can think about is this day being over.

  And that isn’t happening. At the afternoon break, Thomas comes up to him: “What’s with you, Ghady? You’re not a total coward, are you? Michael’s not so bad. He just wants you to share . . . you know what. Right?”

  “Share the pot? And that I buy from him? That I smoke up like you and sell to the younger kids?”

  “Now you understand me.” Thomas smiles widely, as if he means well. “It’s not hard, and seriously, it’s no big deal. Plus, we score some money in this really easy way.”

  “Were you doing this same stuff in your country before you came here?” Ghady asks nervously. “Did you get expelled for it?”

  “Don’t be rude,” Thomas says, even more nervously. “I’ve been really patient with you. Come with me and don’t be a snitch.”

  Before Ghady can figure out what’s happening, he’s surrounded by Michael and his group of ninth-grade boys. He looks around, hoping to see the playground supervisor. There he is. Close by. Ghady hopes he can still escape this mess.

  “Seems like you only understand force,” Michael whispers in his ear, plucking at the top of Ghady’s sleeve. “If you don’t bring the cash tomorrow, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

  The boys scatter fast, before the supervisor notices. Ghady stays where he is, thinking, Why me?

  Why is Michael picking on him? Because he’s a racist and hates him? And Thomas? Why is he taking advantage of their friendship? And what if this gets out? He does have more than twenty euros—maybe fifty, since he’s been saving up for a cell phone. If he goes along with them, then he’ll be free, and they will stop bugging him. Plus, people say marijuana is less harmful than nicotine or smoking a shisha pipe. Ohhh . . . . He’s about to cry from how scared and angry he is.

  “Is there a problem?”

  It’s the voice of the playground supervisor, walking up to him. Ghady shakes free of his thoughts, which he’ll save for some other time.

  “No, no,” he hurriedly answers, imagining the supervisor can read his mind. Then he walks over to the clusters of students. Daniel sees him and heads in his direction. Ghady gets ahold of himself and suppresses his tears.

  “What’s up? What did Michael want?”

  Ghady doesn’t say anything. He really doesn’t want to drag Daniel into this. He touches his friend’s shoulder, his lips tight and the muscles in his face tense. Together, they walk to the cafeteria.

  That night, Ghady decides to tell his sister what’s going on.

  NOTHING MATTERS

  THE NEXT MORNING, Rawan crawls out of bed, tired. She looks at her face in the mirror. Her eyes are puffy, ringed by dark circles. Some new pimples have popped up on her forehead. She doesn’t care about washing her face with her special soap like she usually would. She touches her skin and thinks, Let the pimples camp out and fill my entire face. Nothing matters anymore. I won’t even brush my hair today. I’ll leave it bushy, sticking out in all directions, scattered like my thoughts. What’s going to happen? Who’s going to care?

  At school, Rawan’s friends pick up on this change. In Chemistry, the teacher reprimands her for not finishing the homework exercises. Rawan responds with a disregard that shocks everyone in her class. “I don’t even like Chemistry. I mean, what’s the point of learning it? I’m not going to be a doctor or a pharmacist or a chemistry teacher when I’m older.”

  “I want to see you at the end of class, Rawan,” the teacher says curtly.

  In the schoolyard, after her meeting with the teacher, Raed asks her, out of concern, “What happened? What did she say to you?”

  “She gave me a verbal warning,” Rawan says with a strange, sarcastic grin. “She said she’ll call my parents if I act out like that again.” She falls silent for a moment, then adds, “As if what I’ve got going on at home isn’t enough!”

  “Did something else happen, Rawan? We all feel like there’s something dragging you down. Chérie, tell me, maybe we can help,” Karen suggests. “The problem is too big,” Rawan declares, her voice wavering between frustration and despair. “I don’t think anyone can help me.”

  All her friends stay silent for a while, watching their downcast friend. Trying to change the atmosphere, Noor says, “Come on now, we miss the fun and funny Rawan, where is she? Being sad won’t change a thing. I know! Why don’t you focus on your campaign? People won’t vote for someone who’s down in the dumps. You’d better watch it, because if you keep on acting like this, you’re going to boost my chances of winning. Giving up so soon, huh? Don’t you want to take me on? I’m trying to be humble—we all know I’m going to win anyway, but I just don’t want it to be this easy.” She smiles. “Where’s the fun if there’s no competition?”

  “Honestly, the class elections don’t matter to me anymore. Nothing matters. Not even drawing.”

  At this, Raed interjects, “Not even delicious food? Let me tell you about the kishk my mom made yesterday, and on top of that there were potato cubes and qawarma . . . Mmm.”

  Maya cuts him off. “Who can say no to qawarma? Welcome back to Chef Raed’s show that always makes our tongues tingle. If only one day you’d invite us over to taste all these dishes that you keep telling us about, instead of forcing us to imagine them. We also want to eat, Raed. Stop teasing us, please!” All the friends laugh, but this doesn’t succeed in bringing a smile, even just a small one, to Rawan’s face. She remains silent and distracted.

  WORST-CASE SCENARIO

  “I HAVE TO TELL YOU something important,” Ghady starts. “But please, Zeina, I don’t want you to get involved, and I don’t want you to tell Mom or your friends. And please don’t go telling the principal.”

  “At your service, Sir. But now you’re scaring me. What is it?”

  “You know Michael in ninth grade? The one who doesn’t go anywhere without his gang: Sam and Larry and Andy?”

  “Did you get hurt? Did they attack you?”

  “Not exactly . . . . They smoke pot at school, and . . .”

  “Sure. It’s common knowledge in my class, and Michael’s really scared of the older boys. But how come you know about it?”

  “That’s the problem. They wanted me to join them, and—”

  “And then what? Of course you didn’t agree to it . . . Did you?”

  “Don’t worry, Zeina. If I’d joined them, I wouldn’t be coming to tell you about it. But they’re serious about this, and they keep on pressuring me. Honestly, I’m scared of them.”

  “You have to go tell the administration right away, Ghady. These guys are dangerous.”

>   “You know that if I go to the administration, they’ll accuse me of being with them. Then I’ll get in trouble, too—and I don’t deserve it. Or maybe they’ll believe me and punish Michael’s gang . . . and that would be worse. Because then he’ll hate me even more, and he’ll have even more reasons to bully me.”

  “Stop it, Ghady. You’re always like this, imagining the worst so you can avoid confrontation. Michael is definitely going to be expelled when they find out about this. You’ll just have to be brave, and then you can feel good about it for the rest of your life.”

  “Forget it, Zeina. I wish I hadn’t told you.”

  “And what do you suggest? Just take their abuse? Stick your hands in your pockets and do nothing?”

  “I don’t know. But you can’t go to the principal. Promise me!”

  “Fine. But on the condition that you go, and that you stay away from those weasels.”

  “I promise . . . But seriously, I’m scared of them. There’s a lot of them, and they’re all stronger than me.”

  “Don’t be dumb. Don’t you see how tall and muscular you are? You shouldn’t be scared of anyone.”

  “You don’t know these guys.”

  “I know them well enough. And don’t forget what Mom always says about strength. It comes from within. If they see that you’re scared, then they’re going to use that. Walk confidently and don’t pay them any attention.”

  “I know what Mom says. As far as she’s concerned, all I have to do is look them straight in the eye and say in a firm voice that they’re bothering me. Poor Mom. She has no clue what things are like at school. She doesn’t know that sometimes the playground is more like a jungle than a place to play. And she definitely doesn’t know that the supervisors are so busy watching for stupid things—like someone throwing a ball and hitting a window, or dropping a piece of paper on the ground—that they don’t notice the real problems, like smoking or beating up on the younger kids.”