The Girl from Baghdad (13 page)

We arrived in Baghdad the next morning. Even though I was worn out from the trip, I called Dani immediately and she came by to pick me up so we could go to the club that afternoon.

I had to wait until the end of the day to see Uday again. He sprung from the path that led to the tennis courts, with his racquet in hand and a towel around his neck. He must have just finished a game. Uday looked cuter than usual. As soon as he saw me, he raised his hand to say hello and came to join us.

‘I thought you had disappeared,' he said, his dark eyes gleaming in the hot sunlight. He leaned towards me in a polite but intimate way.

‘I had to leave unexpectedly for a family matter,' I answered.

‘I thought you might have found another boyfriend. I would have been very upset.' He smiled at me gently.

Why ‘another'? Not knowing what to say, I continued to gaze at him.

‘Well, now that you're back, we'll see each other later,' he said optimistically.

‘Unfortunately, I can't tonight. I have to go back home.'

‘That's a real shame. I would have invited you to the concert. Next time, then. Don't disappear again, okay?' He flashed me a smile before heading for the locker room.

I sat stupefied, watching him walk off.

Dani grabbed me by the arm, ‘Struck dumb, huh? Come on, Michelle, wake up! It's time to go. The driver is already waiting for us.'

The telephone rang very late that same night. I ran to answer it. For some bizarre reason I immediately thought it could be Uday. Maybe he had got hold of my number?

But it was my grandmother from Dobříč. She sounded extremely anxious. Her voice was hoarse and fraught, as
if she had been crying. She only said, ‘Give me your mother.'

I saw my mum throw herself on the ground, holding the receiver tight to her body. She kept repeating, ‘It's not possible. It's not possible. Did somebody know? Did you talk to somebody about it?' She began sobbing uncontrollably. I went to her as soon as she hung up.

‘What happened?' I asked alarmed.

‘Nothing, Michelle, go back to bed,' she replied, trying to regain control.

‘Mum, you're crying. What is it?'

My father appeared from the other room. She gestured for me to leave them alone. I pretended I was going to my bedroom but stayed to listen behind the door.

‘Who was that?' Dad demanded.

They continued the rest of the conversation in English. My parents often did this whenever they didn't want us kids to understand. Dad had become increasingly distant around that time of my childhood, and I always feared that I'd done something to offend him. And so, every time my parents had these hushed arguments, I felt that I was the reason for their distress. Looking back at the turn of events that followed, these quarrels were far more serious and foreboding than I imagined. Piecing what little I could comprehend in English and vividly remember from their fights, I now
have a greater understanding of what was really being said between my mother and my father.

Mum told him she had taken her most precious jewels to Dobříč; Dad became very angry. Mum, speaking between sobs, told him to be quiet so as not to wake us.

‘It's all your fault! You and that big-mouth mother of yours!' he scolded. He lowered his voice but spat the words at her contemptuously.

‘So you think it's not a tragedy for me too?' she replied.

‘You don't understand! I needed that money! You were supposed to bring it back here!'

‘It was both of our fortunes. Don't you think I feel as bad as you do?' Her voice was still raw from crying.

I peered out from behind the door and saw her sitting on the couch. Her eyes were red and her hands were trembling.

My father was standing over Mum, while she kept her eyes down. He muttered something incomprehensible. Then he hissed at her in Arabic, ‘You are incompetent.' He left, slamming the door on the other side of the room.

I waited a moment before going to her.

She quickly dried her eyes and smiled as soon as she saw me. ‘What are you still doing up?'

‘What were you and Baba talking about? Is he mad at me?' He had been remote lately and I was again afraid I had done something to annoy him.

‘Why no, dear, what are you saying? You don't have anything to do with it.'

‘Then what happened?'

‘Nothing, just a little incident.'

I pressed for a more plausible explanation.

‘Babička said that last night two strangers came to her house with a pistol. They made her give them all of our money and jewels,' Mum confided.

‘Did they hurt her?' I asked, concerned. It seemed so unreal to me.

‘No, but they took everything. Everything.'

‘So that's why Baba got mad. Now what are we going to do?'

Mum smiled at my innocence. ‘Don't worry, we're not completely without money. Even if it was a lot, it was from a special savings fund we had put away a while ago.'

‘To do what?' I asked.

‘We wanted to buy a house in Europe because we're really worried about this war.'

‘But we've already got a house – this one. I don't want to go away from here,' I wailed. The idea of leaving Baghdad was unthinkable.

‘Well, don't worry. Now this has happened we won't be going anywhere.' She stared at the ground, defeated.

The atmosphere around the house was tense for a few days. My father came home late from work, wearing a
sullen expression on his face. On the weekend, as always, we went to Bibi's house.

Kasside received my mother very coldly, greeting her with a forced smile and looking her up and down with sharp eyes. Bibi sat staring glacially at Mum as she kissed her hands. Perhaps my father had told them what had happened? Ahlam sat near Mum at the table. Although she insisted Mum eat something, my mother sat mute and still, staring down at her plate. No-one tried to talk to her. They all seemed embarrassed.

As time passed, it was finally apparent things had calmed down. Dad continued to work long hours. He rarely dined with us but always came to kiss my sisters and me goodnight before going to bed. After a few weeks, the money incident seemed to retreat into the background, and life was restored to relative peace as before. But things were different. The tenderness my parents had always shared had dissipated.

I spent a lot of afternoons at the club – a happy oasis where time stood still.

Uday was still very nice to me. He never missed the chance to exchange a few words, or to offer me a drink whenever we met. He would stare at me with an intense look that was difficult to resist, just like his gallantry.
He was different from his friends; young playboys who prowled for girls. Dani said she had never seen Uday be so attentive with any other girl.

Uday seemed important already, even though he was of young age. One day I heard him rather arrogantly give orders to one of his bodyguards, as if he was showing off. But with me, he was almost excessively kind. His regal bearing and reputation made me feel like a queen. I avoided the other girls' glares when he would stop to talk to me. Then, jokingly, I threw the rumours of him being a playboy in his face. My impertinence seemed to amuse rather than outrage him.

Uday invited me to a concert the club was having, and Dad had given me permission without even knowing why I was keen to go. After spending the day at the pool, Dani and I got ready for dinner. I put on a red dress with puffed sleeves and a belt decorated with a white embroidered geometric theme. The same motif ran all around the hem of my dress, which fell just above the knee. I was nervous. Uday had been polite in inviting me but, then, I wasn't so sure I wanted to put myself on display in front of everyone by being seated at his side.

I bored Dani during dinner with my dilemma. The more she tried to convince me to go, the more hesitant I became. We ran into Uday as we were leaving the restaurant. He was more forward than usual.

‘So …' he began, ‘I'll wait for you at my table, Michelle, with my friends.' He had a languished look on his face that made my heart flutter. Certain I would show up, he left, smiling. ‘Later!'

I couldn't tell him no, but the idea of being in the spotlight – with him – was making me anxious. I decided to remain distant. I chose a spot where I could see Uday without being seen.

From my perch, I noticed Uday searching for me amongst the crowd. He scanned the entrance and the other tables throughout the concert. I saw him sit down on an empty seat and strum his fingers to the rhythm of the music as he kept looking around. After an hour, he got up and walked away, disappearing from my sight.

‘Michelle! Where did you go?' Uday's voice surprised me from behind. ‘I waited for you a long time!'

‘I didn't know you were there. You scared me.'

‘Why didn't you come to my table?' he asked angrily. Then, seeing my embarrassment, he continued, ‘I understand, you probably didn't feel like it. Don't worry about it. Do you want to take a walk? This music is good but a little deafening.' He offered me his arm. I placed my hand in the bend of his elbow and we moved away from the arena.

We walked in silence for a while. Far away from the lights, the moon shone with a bright white beam. I could hear the music in the distance, along with the sound of
running water in the brook curving through the centre of the lawn. The scent of jasmine filled the air and mixed with Uday's cologne as he walked by my side. We sat down on a bench near the water. All was serene.

‘The moon seems really close tonight,' he said looking up at the luminous disc in the sky, ‘and you are really very pretty, Michelle,
ya habìbtì
, my love …'

I blushed and lowered my eyes, focusing on my quivering hands. To mask my discomfort, I said the first thing that came into my head. ‘My nickname is Raghdde.'

‘Clearness of moonlight, just like tonight.' Uday reached out for my hand, which was frozen in anticipation. He brushed his hand against my fingers, then moved it slowly to my wrist, up along my arm until it reached my shoulder. He played with a lock of my hair. He moved his eyes from his hand on my shoulder to my mouth. We remained this close for a long time. I didn't move. His touch bewitched me. Placing his hand on the nape of my neck, he pulled me even closer to him. I felt his soft lips against mine. I could taste a sweetness, complemented by the masculine scent of his aftershave. He squeezed me tighter and I lost myself in his arms. It was a perfect, gentle, sensual kiss. For a second, I asked myself if I was dreaming. He stroked his fingers through my hair and smiled. It was magical, and for the briefest of moments, I imagined that the club was our kingdom and I was his queen.

Bibi sat proudly on her favourite chair, waiting for us to greet her.

Before entering the big room, we always removed our shoes. Dad helped Linda while Klara had already slipped inside, kicking off her shoes.

Mum followed us with a happy air about her that we hadn't seen in a while. Just as she bowed to take Grandma's hand, Bibi suddenly seized her cane, pointing wildly.