Bitter Almonds (31 page)

One chair? Where did he seat his friends when they visited? He must not have visitors. Was he lonely here? She had her entire family around her, yet without Omar by her side, she felt alone. If she brought herself to say that tomorrow, would he understand?

Her legs trembled and she drew a steadying breath. What had she done? She was in Omar's room, about to sleep in his bed. Leaving campus and getting on the bus earlier, she hadn't thought this far ahead. She had never seen him act this way, abrupt and reserved. All she wanted was to hear him tell her everything would be fine.

The hanging calendar on the wall caught her attention and she pushed away from the door. One weekend was marked with the word
home.
On the sixth of the month, a number was written in red ink. She flipped through previous months. Numbers were scribbled on the sixth of each month indicating an increasing count. What was significant about the sixth?

She hung the calendar back, and opened his closet. Running her hand over his hanging shirts, few and immaculate, she caught a whiff
of cologne, a mix of lemon and cedar wood. She hadn't smelled that on him before. When did he start using this cologne? And who ironed his shirts?

Stepping back, she dropped on the bed. She should be ashamed of herself for prying into his things. She headed into the bathroom and washed, resisting the urge to go through his personal items in the medicine cabinet. Ready for bed, she draped her dress over the chair, slipped on Omar's shirt, and hurried under the blanket.

The scent of cedar wood, and a hint of something other than lemon, earthy and sharp, grew dense under the sheets. She buried her face in the pillow and inhaled deeply, inviting a quiver to run through down to her toes. Sleep. She needed sleep to deaden her heightened senses. She would have to face him in the morning, explain herself. Turning off the side lamp, she flipped onto her back and willed her muscles to relax.

Several breaths later, a thought jolted her. Marwan had brought his entourage of men to ask for her hand on the sixth. She fumbled to turn on the light, and reached for the calendar again. The red numbers counted the days since her engagement.

The sun hid behind dark clouds, as if it, too, dreaded the encounter with Omar. Nadia went about the business of getting ready, made the bed and cleaned the bathroom. Having nothing to do while she waited, she went through his books. In addition to a decent literature collection, there were several textbooks checked out from the university library. Their titles centered around topics of law. Buried under that stack, a worn-out book beckoned her. She pulled it out and the binding became loose. Several papers fell onto her lap. Appalled, she hastened to put the book together. Her eyes landed on Omar's picture among the scattered papers. A civil card identified him by a different name.

Approaching footsteps sounded outside. She hurried to tuck the papers back and return the book to its place. Omar's distinctive rapid knock followed. Smoothing the front of her dress, she opened the door.

He had his back to her, his hands clasped.

‘Omar?'

He made a slight turn, giving his profile and keeping his eyes to the ground. ‘I hope I'm not too early.'

‘I've been ready since sunrise.'

‘I tried to call Um George to let you know I was on my way. No one answered.'

‘I heard her leave around four. You want to come in?'

He shook his head. ‘If you're ready, we better leave. It's almost seven.'

‘Are we leaving on the bus right away?'

He completed the turn and faced her, no smile on his face. ‘We'll discuss things over breakfast first.'

Omar ushered her into a taxi and took his seat in the front. Talking weather with the driver, he didn't give her a chance to say anything. They arrived at a restaurant bustling with people. As soon as they entered, an old man ran over to greet Omar, drawing his lips wide with a smile. The man opened a pathway to a table near an indoor waterfall, separating the crowds with his body.

‘Look at those people waiting. You must come here often to get this special treatment.'

‘It's the uniform. Never been here. One of my friends recommended this place. Hope you're hungry.'

Her stomach in knots, she doubted she could keep anything down. Despite her better judgment, she nodded. Perhaps he would stop scowling when he started eating.

Food arrived at the table. Three kinds of hummus casseroles, multiple plates full of cheese pastries, marinated olives, eggs fried with the Armenian spiced meat
sojuk
, fresh mint leaves and onions soaked in ice water. Omar handed her a loaf of pita bread, steaming from the brick oven, and waited for her to start. She delved in, inviting him to do the
same. He kept the conversation revolving around the food and seemed to be avoiding the matter at heart. Perplexed, she went along, nerves settling as the bites landed in her stomach. She started to enjoy the meal and searched for other topics to talk about.

‘How is it that you have text books from the university library?'

‘I enrolled in open classes.'

‘Can you do that from here? What about attending lectures?'

‘Open classes don't require attendance. A friend of mine sends me his notes and I take the exams at the end of the year.' He put down his spoon, seeming hesitant to say more.

She nudged him. ‘So you're going for a law degree?'

‘It'll be good to have after I'm discharged from service. I don't plan on staying with the army. Not many opportunities for someone like me to move up the ranks.'

‘Someone like you? What do you mean?'

‘Not a member in the ruling Ba'ath party.
And
I'm a Palestinian.'

‘Will they let you leave?'

Pushing his plate away, he wiped his mouth with his napkin. ‘I can resign any time I want. I wasn't drafted. Accepting my resignation depends on the political climate, of course. Too early to think about that. I want to get a degree first.'

‘I always thought you should be a teacher, remember?'

A mysterious expression swept his face, easing his intimidating scowl. ‘I remember.'

She popped an olive in her mouth to stop from asking about the strange document she had found in his room. Better not spoil his lightened mood. She needed him to stay calm.

A waiter cleared the table and brought Turkish coffee service.

Omar fell silent. He moved breadcrumbs around with his index finger.

‘Aren't you going to ask me what I'm doing here, Omar?'

‘I figured you would tell me when you're ready.'

Now that she had opened the subject, she didn't know how to proceed. She took a sip of coffee. Then another.

‘Nadia?' His voice vibrated through her bones.

‘If it makes any difference, you should know I accomplished what I came here for.'

He stared at her for several seconds. ‘Would that be pushing your fiancé over the edge?'

She held his stare. There was no going back now. Relief cascaded over her with each breath. He understood. Omar understood everything. He knew her well. ‘I had to do it.'

‘You want Marwan to break the engagement, I get it. But why in God's name did you have to be this . . . this—'

‘Stupid? Reckless?'

‘This cruel, damn it! Marwan deserves better than this.
I
deserve better than this.'

‘Yes, I know.' She tore her eyes away, tears threatening to embarrass them in this crowded place. ‘Marwan would never go back on his word to you. He would not hurt you like that. I was stuck. No matter what I said or did, he found a way to accept it. And I couldn't damage his reputation by refusing to marry him. His livelihood depends on his good name.' She placed both arms on the table, bringing her face closer. ‘What would people think when they saw me reject him after two years of engagement? I couldn't do that. Not after he went against his family and silenced everyone for my sake.' She shook her head. ‘It has to come from him.'

‘So you used me to plunge a dagger into his heart?'

‘Marwan will not think ill of you.'

‘He's a man, like any other.' A vein next to Omar's right temple pulsed with his words. ‘I have news for you. I'm a man, too. I guarantee you Marwan's mind went exactly where it should in this situation.'

Her lower lip trembled, and she bit it down. ‘No. He . . . trusts you. I suspect it's too much for him to go against his old-fashioned nature,
now that he knows I could be this careless.' She nodded once. ‘In his heart, he will let me go.'

Omar leaned toward her. ‘Why didn't you tell me you wanted out? I could have found a way without risking your reputation.'

‘No one knows about me spending the night here except Marwan, Huda and Mama. Isn't that right?'

He tapped his chest, snapping his back to the chair. ‘
I
know. How do you think I could . . . recover from this mess you created? You didn't think it through, Nadia. You didn't think it through at all.'

She no longer could hold back the tears, and they flowed with her words. ‘Maybe I didn't. I was suffocating. I don't have anyone else to turn to but you.'

He handed her a napkin. ‘Please, don't.'

She dabbed at her wet face and scanned the crowds, checking to see if she had attracted anyone's attention. Thank God for good food. People were more interested in what was on their plates than what was going on around them. She buried her face in the napkin and tried to get a grip, listening to Omar take deep breaths, attempting to calm himself.

‘Everything will be all right, Nadia. I want you to be happy.'

The tenderness that poured out with his voice filled her with warmth. She had waited for him to say those words. She placed the napkin on the table and faced him with a hesitant smile.

He rose from his chair. ‘Come, we'll continue our talk on the way to the bus station.'

She remained seated. ‘Will you not ask me?'

‘About what?' He counted bills out of his wallet.

‘Ask me when I realized Marwan was not the right man for me.'

His hand froze. ‘When?'

‘The day you left.'

He plopped back onto his chair.

‘On the sixth of the month, almost two years ago,' she continued.

He breathed out her name. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

‘I know you think of me as a sister, but I have to tell you I don't think—'

He shot his hand to grab hers on the table. ‘Stop. Just stop.' His jaw muscles pumped tense and clear. Withdrawing his hand, he finished paying the bill and rose to his feet again. ‘I'll find a taxi. Meet me outside.'

As soon as he cleared the restaurant doors, Omar gulped for air and waited for his heart to stop slamming against his ribs. Nadia was about to say what he always wanted to hear. When he had thought of this moment, he had imagined it to be different, more intimate, untainted by guilt. He had to stop her. What else could he have done? Nadia grew up, for sure, played women's games. And he, the novice, didn't know all the rules.

Someone grabbed his arm. ‘Knew I'd find you here when you asked me about this place.'

He pulled his arm away. ‘Commander? What's going on, sir?'

‘A disaster.' Hand to his back, his commander tried to urge him forward. ‘A goddamn disaster.'

He dug in his heels, looking over his shoulder for Nadia to come out. ‘You signed my papers for an emergency leave.'

‘You don't want to be off base right now, Lieutenant.' The commander brought his face close, and whispered, ‘Minister of defense is up to something. Hafez Al Assad's military faction is taking over and it doesn't help we are not members of the ruling party.' He held his tongue until a passer-by cleared their area. ‘Looks like a coup.'

Omar froze. ‘Where does that leave us?'

‘Fucked. And unless you get your ass back on base right now, you will be fucked even more. Your timing is going to come out suspicious.'

‘I'm on leave, sir. It's all on paper.'

‘They are arresting everyone on top and working their way down. I tore up your leave papers as soon as I heard. You have to assume your command before it's noted. You don't want them to think you were warned.'

Omar checked his watch. ‘You have wheels, sir?'

His commander pointed to a jeep parked at the curb. ‘We can be on base in five minutes. I scared to death the soldier at the gate. He will not talk.'

‘I'm ready, Omar.' Nadia touched his shoulder.

He sprang around, grabbed her elbow and half-dragged her to the jeep. ‘We have to make a stop at the central bus station first.'

Climbing into the driver's seat, the commander raised his eyebrows at Nadia. ‘I told the general you were battling a severe case of diarrhea. So act sick.'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘What's happening?' Nadia's voice quivered.

‘I don't have time to explain.' He dug money out of his wallet. ‘Bus leaves in half an hour. As soon as you get to Damascus, take a taxi. You should be home by noon prayer.'

She held on to his arm. ‘You're not coming with me?'

‘I can't. Something major has happened. I have to go back to base.'

She tightened her grip. Tears shimmered in her big eyes, screaming disappointment and fear. Her delicate shoulders trembled, the vein in her neck pulsing mad.

He fought the urge to hold her, to reassure her and calm her down. ‘I'll come as soon as I can.' He pried her fingers off his arm and pushed the bills into her hand. ‘I'll call Marwan to spell things out.'

The jeep screeched to a stop in front of the station. About to leave, Nadia touched his hand and stopped him.

‘No need to come down. I know what to do.' She stepped out and slammed the door. ‘Go. Don't waste time on me.'

His commander floored the gas pedal, jerking him back onto the seat. Needing to lash out before his chest exploded, he slammed his fist into the side door, letting out a stream of curses.