Bitter Almonds (22 page)

‘Where are your little sisters?'

‘Shareef took them to Sameera's family. I called him last night and told him to keep them there.'

Had Omar known they were going to spend the night alone in the house, he would have dragged himself out of there. Clueless Nadia
didn't think about what the neighbors might say, but he did. There was no room for suspicion in matters like these. ‘You should have told me.'

‘When? While you were unconscious or after you threw me out of your room?'

‘Thank you for your help last night. I know I didn't sound grateful, but I am.'

Nadia twisted in her seat and glared at him. ‘You were angry, Omar. And . . . and rude.'

Blood rushed to his neck. Taking deep breaths, he tried to keep his face from turning red. By the strange look in Nadia's eyes, he doubted he succeeded. He moved to sit by her side, pretending to check his shoelaces. ‘Sorry about that. I wasn't ang—'

‘I don't understand men. You never act as expected.'

‘You girls are not that much better.'

‘Women.'

Lifting his head, he paused.

Nadia inflated her chest and straightened her back. ‘You mean us
women.
'

Sitting back in his chair, a long breath emptied out of his lungs. ‘Right. You women confuse us too.' He did a double take. ‘Wait a minute. Who else acted unexpectedly with you?'

Nadia's cheeks reddened. She cast her eyes down to her lap and remained silent.

Alarm bells sounded in his ears. ‘Talk to me, Nadia.'

She shook her head. ‘This isn't the time.'

‘What else can we do?' Masking his dread, he nudged her shoulder with his. ‘It will keep my mind off Fatimah.'

Waleed plopped next to him. ‘God. I don't think I can handle one more piece of information.'

Omar put a hand on Waleed's shoulder. ‘Fatimah has the best doctor in town taking care of her. Try to relax.'

The chain-smoker ambled over, stood in front of Omar. ‘What's your rank?'

Omar rose and extended his hand. ‘Sec . . . First Lieutenant Omar Bakry.'

The man squinted, his beady eyes turned to slits. He let Omar's hand hang in the air. ‘You say it with pride?'

Waleed sprang to his feet. ‘Now wait a minute here.'

Omar stayed Waleed with one hand. He stepped closer to the man, the stink of nicotine stopping him from advancing further. ‘How did you know I'm in the army?'

The man lit a cigarette and blew smoke in Omar's face. ‘You are the Englishman.'

Omar flinched. ‘No one has called me that since I was a boy. Do I know you?'

The smoker shook his head. ‘No. But I know you.'

‘If you did, you would know better than to call me by that name.'

The man returned to his chair, leaving a cloud of smoke behind.

Omar advanced. ‘Who are you? What do you want?'

‘It doesn't matter what I want.' He sucked hard on his cigarette, its burning tip glowing in front of his beady eyes. ‘We will meet again,
Englishman
.'

Omar balled his fists, his muscles ready for a fight.

Waleed held him by the arms. ‘Let him be. This is not the place.'

‘You hungry? I need to eat.' Nadia tugged on Omar's hand. ‘Come with me to the cafeteria.'

Omar dragged his eyes away from the man taunting him to Nadia's frightened face. Making a scene here would be stupid. He looked back at the chain-smoker.

A strange smile spread over the man's lips. He raised a hand to his forehead and saluted.

Omar gritted his teeth. Something was different about that salute, more like a signal. Who the hell was this man?

Nadia tugged again. ‘Please.'

Sighing, he let Nadia drag him along.

When they were out of earshot, Nadia asked, ‘What's wrong with that man?'

‘Like everyone else, he's disappointed with the war. Looking for someone to blame.' To change the subject, he slowed his steps. ‘Are you going to tell me what's bothering you? Or shall I start making assumptions and worry about Fatimah and you too?'

‘It's nothing.' Nadia picked up her pace, passing him. ‘I'm confused, that's all.'

He caught up, held her elbow and turned her to face him. ‘About what?'

‘About who,' she whispered, her eyes cast down.

His hand dropped to his side. ‘Who's confusing you?'

‘Marwan.' She flashed a hesitant look. ‘He is . . . different.'

‘Different how?'

‘Distant. He's avoiding . . . us.' She fiddled with her collar. ‘He used to visit with us all the time. Now he comes to see you, leaves without a word.'

Omar resumed his walk, covering his relief by pretending to look for the cafeteria sign. ‘Marwan has a lot on his mind. Huge responsibilities, managing the family business on his own. His uncle bowed out after his son died. Left everything to drop on Marwan's shoulders.'

Nadia fell into step with him. ‘Huda and Mama went with Rihab to pay their respects to his cousin's wife. Poor woman. Widowed at a young age.'

‘Many like her. You didn't go with them?'

‘I couldn't on account of the little girls.' She turned to face him, walking a couple of steps backward. ‘What about Marwan's other cousins? How come he has to bear the full burden by himself?'

‘They're his cousins from his mother's side. No ties to his father's trade. They have their own businesses to run.'

They reached the cafeteria, bustling with the morning crowd. Thankful for the interruption, he put the issue of Marwan to rest in Nadia's mind. He ordered melted halloumi cheese sandwiches.

‘Five sandwiches?' Nadia raised her eyebrows. ‘You that hungry?'

‘For the two men. They probably didn't have anything to eat, either.'

‘You're going to feed that obnoxious man?'

Omar twisted his mouth sideways and nodded. ‘Him too.'

While they waited for the sandwiches to be ready, Nadia surprised him with a question. ‘You think Shareef told Marwan off?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘The other night, as Marwan was leaving, I could swear he had something to say to me, but he held back. It's no secret, Shareef doesn't like Marwan.' Her fingers walked over the collar of her dress again: no button to check, but the habitual move exposed her nervousness. ‘Did Marwan say anything to you?'

‘About what?'

‘About . . . about his future plans?' Her voice sank in her chest.

Omar grabbed the bag of hot sandwiches off the counter and took his time paying. This was it. Nadia sought confirmation from him about Marwan's intentions. What was he to say? Marwan wanted to propose? Marwan had proposed, and he had put him on hold. What would she think of that? What would she think of him?

‘Marwan is taking care of two families now, his uncle's and his dead cousin's. Not to mention his sisters at home. I doubt he'll be making plans for himself any time soon.'

Something shattered in Nadia's wide brown eyes. A hopeful luster dimmed.

What had he done to his Nadia? What selfish heart did he love her with? Exhaling, he shifted the bag of sandwiches to his other hand. He spoke the truth, didn't he? Marwan's family obligations became more complicated by the day. How could he throw clueless Nadia into the
mix? There. That was a noble reason justifying his decision to keep Marwan at bay. Damned if he felt better about it, though.

‘You should think about your future, Nadia. Time is running out. Apply to the university if you aren't interested in nursing school.'

‘You should stand by your friend. He was there for you.'

As if he had received a slap in the face, Omar flinched. ‘I know all too well what Marwan did for me.' He squared his shoulders. ‘I'm doing the best I can with what's in front of me right now.'

Nadia's face dropped. ‘I didn't mean to suggest that you have forsaken—'

‘I know what you meant.' He cut her off. ‘Let's get back. I hope there's news.'

Limping at a faster pace, he tried not to get angry. What right did he have to feel insulted by her words? She was right. He should help Marwan, though the stubborn man didn't complain to him about his circumstances. What could he do for him? He couldn't interfere in his family affairs, or help with his business. He could pay him his money back as planned. That was about all he could do.

Omar glanced at tight-lipped Nadia by his side, her head bowed, her steps in synch with his. He could give Marwan a sliver of hope. Let his heart settle, put his mind at ease, bring back that luster in Nadia's eyes. Like a merchant's balancing scale, Omar could lessen his friend's burden and amass his own at the same time.

Fussing and crying, his head held in a tight grip, the plump ram was half-dragged, half-urged up the stairs. Waleed held him by the horns. The butcher pushed his hind, using both hands. The butcher's boy enticed the ram forward by waving a bunch of grass in his face.

Neighbors and friends gathered on the steps along the way, cheering them on, repeating the same phrase over and over,
Masha'a Allah,
praising God for increasing his blessings on the young family.

Unable to help with the physical labor, Omar watched from the top step. He had been working all morning, getting Fatimah's kitchen ready for the ceremonial ritual. He had lined the floor with plastic sheets, set the biggest pots he could find on the counters and dangled a chain with a hook from a beam in the ceiling. He had managed the details with Marwan by his side, guiding him.

‘You sure this is going to hold?' Marwan pulled on the hook with all his strength. ‘My uncle used a tree in our courtyard.'

‘It will hold.' Omar positioned a huge brass pot beneath the hook.

‘Rational people get a medium-sized lamb. What your brother-in-law did was foolish. This ram is as heavy as the both of us combined.'

Omar laughed. ‘Um Waleed went with him to the shepherd's. She picked it out herself.'

At the mention of her name, Um Waleed walked into the kitchen. ‘Everything ready? Where are the papers to wrap the portions with? I don't want to use newspapers. People deserve better than ink-smudged meat.'

‘The butcher's boy has a roll.' Omar walked her back to Fatimah's room. ‘Don't worry, everything is taken care of.'

Her back to the door, Fatimah sat in a chair facing the window. Huda stood by her side. Mama Subhia sat on the edge of the bed, Sameera to her left.

Huda raised her hand to stop him at the door. ‘She's nursing.'

‘I need the list.' Omar lowered his voice. ‘Waleed thought you added more families.'

Fatimah handed a piece of paper to Huda. Um Waleed snatched it out of her hand and gave it to Omar. Before she let go, she said, ‘Start with the neighbors gathering on the stairs.'

‘Of course.'

‘Bigger portions go to the needy families on this list.'

‘I know.' He tugged on the paper.

Um Waleed didn't let go. ‘Keep the liver for us. Fatimah will need it to get her strength back.'

‘Got it.' He tugged again, irritated by the woman. Did she own a single piece of clothing that wasn't gray?

‘See if the butcher wants to keep the lambskin. If not we can send it to the tanner, make it into a rug.'

‘We are paying the butcher for his work.' He tugged hard, fearing he might rip the damn list, but he freed it from Um Waleed's hand. ‘No need to give him the sheepskin.' Omar tucked the paper in his pocket and returned to the kitchen. He found Shareef had arrived and threw him a quick greeting.

The butcher laid the ram on his side. The ram's legs thrashed. Waleed held his head down while Marwan struggled with his back legs.

‘Why don't you tie them together?' Omar wished the animal would settle down.

‘No need.' The butcher ran his right hand from the ram's neck to his belly, smoothing the fleece. With a calm voice, he recited verses from the Qur'an and continued with the hand massage. Several minutes passed. The animal stopped resisting and his legs relaxed. The butcher motioned for Marwan and Waleed to remove their hands. They did. The ram remained still.

Repeating the lulling motions, the butcher asked in a hushed voice, ‘Name?'

His actions seemed to hypnotize the men around him, and no one answered. He looked at Waleed. ‘What's the child's name?'

‘Fawzi.'

‘His full name, man.' The butcher's voice remained calm, but a sense of urgency could be detected in his tone.

‘Fawzi Waleed Fawzi Al Najad.'

Replacing his right hand with his left to continue massaging the ram's neck, the butcher extended his right hand behind his back. His boy, no more than twelve, placed a big knife in the butcher's open palm.

‘This magnificent lamb is to honor Fawzi, the son of Waleed, the son of Fawzi Al Najad.' Tightening his grip on the leather handle, the
butcher kept the knife hidden from the ram's eyes. He folded the ram's ears over his eyes and took a deep breath.

‘
Bismillah Al Rahman Al Raheem
,' he said in a steady voice, in the name of God, most merciful, most gracious. With one swift move, the knife sliced clean through the ram's neck, ending his life. Cradling the lifeless body, the butcher lifted the head. His boy inserted a pot under the deep cut to capture the gushing blood.

The men moved in silence, subdued by the heavy act of taking a life. They helped string the animal from his back legs on the hook. Blood drained into the pot. The butcher's knife went to work, skinning, gutting and cutting with obvious skill.

Waleed and Shareef took charge of distribution to the neighbors and of cleaning the kitchen after the butcher finished his chore. Omar and Marwan loaded Marwan's car with wrapped packages and followed the list, making sure to do the rounds as fast as they could while the meat was fresh. In his haste, Marwan drove out of character, his jerky movements leaving Omar nauseated.