Bitter Almonds (18 page)

‘Maybe we should call for the doctor?' Nadia whispered.

Sounding scared, her voice brought Omar back from his misery. He turned his head to face them and plastered on a smile.

‘I'm fine.' He meant his words, now that he saw Nadia's captivating face, her eyes warm and caring. Yes. He was home. He inhaled a deep breath. Nadia's familiar perfume masked the smell permeating from under his bed. God must be merciful. He focused on Mama Subhia. ‘Why are you crying?'

‘We were so worried.' Mama Subhia sniffled. ‘Are they taking good care of you here,
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? You're so thin.' She frowned at Marwan. ‘I will bring lentil soup next time.' Leaning forward, she half lifted her backside off the chair. ‘Where are you hurt? Show me.'

Nadia placed a hand on her mother's shoulder. ‘Not now, Mama.'

‘Where's Fatimah?' Omar changed the subject.

Nadia and Marwan exchanged a quick look, a signal passing between them. Omar didn't catch its meaning. Secrets? Since when did Marwan and Nadia share secrets? Heat crept up his neck, anger driving it from deep inside his chest. He punctuated his words, ‘How's Fatimah?'

‘She's going to have a baby.' Nadia forced a smile on her face.

‘Yeah?' Omar narrowed his eyes. ‘She coming?'

‘Marwan didn't tell you?' Mama Subhia adjusted her white scarf.

Marwan raised his eyebrows. ‘Didn't think it was my place.'

‘What's going on? Tell me what, for God's sake?'

Nadia touched the back of his hand. ‘Fatimah's pregnancy is complicated. She's on bed rest until the baby is ready, that's all.'

Omar clutched a handful of his bed sheet. Complicated like his mother's pregnancy with him? Did women take after their mothers in matters like these? Would Fatimah give up her life to have her baby?

‘Waleed and his mother take very good care of her.' Nadia leaned closer. ‘I stop there every day, hoping there will be something for me to do. But Fatimah needs nothing.' She squeezed his hand. ‘Really, Fatimah is fine.'

‘Fatimah asked me to give you a hug on her behalf.' Mama Subhia tried to get up again. Both Nadia and Marwan pushed her down this time.

Omar swallowed his fear. ‘How far along is she?'

‘Five months.' Mama Subhia spread her hands a distance above her belly. ‘She's this big. Huda also checks on her every day. Don't worry.'

Omar darted his eyes between mother and daughter. ‘You'll let me know? When her time comes?'

‘You will be home by then.' Lowering her eyes, Mama Subhia became occupied with her handkerchief. ‘Shareef wanted to come with us, but you know. He's at work. I'm sure he will stop by on Friday as usual.'

Omar frowned. Did she think Shareef came to see him every Friday? He opened his mouth to set her straight.

Marwan coughed into his fist.

Nadia squeezed his hand twice.

They were asking him to remain quiet. More secret messages between those two. Where did this familiarity come from? He didn't like it. Didn't like it one bit. He rubbed his thumb over Nadia's hand, giving her a signal that he had caught on. ‘How did you do on your finals? Results out yet?'

She brightened the room with her smile. ‘I passed.'

Omar frowned, an act requiring effort, for Nadia's smile was infectious. ‘I know you passed. I want to know how well you did.'

Nadia tilted sideways and her ponytail brushed his shoulder. ‘Well enough to get Huda on my back about nursing school.'

He tugged her hand to his side, trying to keep the closeness. ‘I don't think being a nurse is the right fit for you.'

‘I have tried to tell her, but she won't listen.'

‘Huda wants the best for you,' Mama Subhia chided.

‘May I ask what your plans are then, Nadia?' Marwan cleared his throat. ‘If not nursing school, what do you have in mind?'

‘I'm not sure yet. Perhaps a degree in literature. I've always enjoyed reading the classics.' Nadia beamed at Omar. ‘The ones translated by the Green Press, remember? You got me addicted to them. I don't know how you managed to buy the entire collection after it went out of print. You can't find it in bookstores.'

Omar sought Marwan, secretly beseeching him to leave Nadia in the dark. What difference would it make if she knew the source?

Marwan didn't get Omar's silent message since his eyes never swayed from Nadia's face. ‘Now I know why Omar asked me to buy all those books from the bookstore next to my house when it closed.'

A deep blush colored the roots of Nadia's pulled-back hair. ‘I must thank you, then.'

‘I have the rest of the collection. Two or three volumes, I believe. I could bring them over, if you like.'

‘Yes, please.'

Omar pressed his head back into the pillow, inviting a painful squeeze to his chest. Nadia knowing the source of the books made a hell of a difference to enamored Marwan. His friend's glowing smile needed shutters. Omar let out a loud cough to cover his frustration. ‘I haven't paid for those remaining volumes yet.'

‘Consider them a graduation gift?' Marwan asked, still beaming.

Mama Subhia waved her handkerchief at him. ‘Thank you, but we cannot accept. I will cover their cost.'

Nadia straightened. ‘Let's not bother Omar with this now.' She placed her other hand on his forearm. ‘You concentrate on getting better.'

Omar was better. Much better with Nadia giving him her full attention again. A degree of contentment settled over him. He glanced at Marwan. Time to address a pressing matter. ‘Will you give us a couple of minutes?'

‘Sure.' Marwan left the room.

‘How are you managing? I never got a chance to ask Shareef. You behind on the rent?'

‘Marwan brings your salary to me every month,' Mama Subhia answered.

Omar blinked.

‘Covers everything.' She lowered her voice. For whose benefit, Omar had no idea. Nadia stood next to her. ‘I put some money aside for you. To get you started when you come home.'

He glanced at his nightstand. In the drawer, a letter from the Ministry of Defense stated his salary was held in their treasury until he claimed it. No way would they release his salary to Marwan. Marwan must have given Mama Subhia his own money, fabricating this story to save her pride.

Throwing his head back, he released a long breath. The debt he owed Marwan dangled from his neck like an iron chain. How could he ever repay him?

For the rest of the month, the family visited almost every day. Shareef showed up a couple of times, stiff and distant, performing a duty, nothing more. Sometimes, Huda stopped by toward the end of visiting hours and left with everyone, Marwan the designated driver.

Seeing the fondness developing between Marwan and Nadia ate at Omar's heart. Nothing escaped his eyes. Not the stolen glances, the agreeing smiles when either one of them spoke, Marwan's nervous twitches whenever Nadia looked straight at him, nor the comfort with which Nadia moved around Marwan, abandoning a level of reserve, which was Omar's privilege, and his alone. The contentment he felt whenever Nadia visited vanished, leaving uneasiness to flourish.

One clear afternoon, Omar paced around his room, able to stay upright without having to hunch his shoulders, tolerating the occasional sharp pang in his ribs. An irritation he needed to get used to, the doctor had explained.

His roommate discharged, Omar had the room to himself. He welcomed the solitude and privacy. Most of the beds in his wing vacant, he sometimes shuffled down the hallway, pushing himself to the limit, his body broken and his spirits defeated, needing to stay on the move yet going nowhere.

He stared out the window, his hands clasped behind his back. He thought of his bleak reality. The army hadn't discharged him, but what did they expect from him in the condition he was in? To push papers? To shine stars and eagles for the jerks who had brought him to this point? This was not how the war should have ended. He should now be standing in his home, his real home. His father's home in Palestine.

Like a trapped and injured lion, he needed to lash out at someone. Something had to be done. Someone had to answer for this catastrophe. Nasser's attempt to shoulder full responsibility was not enough. The Egyptian people wouldn't let him resign. Four days after the ceasefire, Omar lay mangled, soaking in his own blood. Marwan told him people had poured into the streets, shouting their support for Nasser, calling for him to retract his resignation. What was wrong with people? Who would be held accountable for the lost lives, the trampled dreams, the squashed hopes? Who could he blame for his misery?

Behind him, he heard Marwan walk into the room and plop down on the vacant bed. ‘Salam. You hear the news?'

Omar didn't turn around. ‘You alone?'

‘Yeah. Running errands. I will bring everyone over later. Need anything?'

‘Don't. Tell them you're busy today. Not in the mood for visitors.'

‘Nadia will be disappointed.'

Omar turned to face his friend. ‘I'm sure she can handle a day without seeing me.' He waited to see if his words hit a nerve. Omar was no fool. Marwan was the one disappointed about missing the chance to see Nadia today, not the other way around.

Marwan coughed and broke eye contact.

Disgusted for being angry with the wrong person, Omar felt sorry for Marwan. He had been a loyal friend, a compassionate and responsible man. And he was falling in love with Nadia. Seeing them together almost every day, the dreadful fact screamed at him. How could he fault Marwan for falling for his Nadia? How could he not?

Omar turned his back, hiding his face from exposing his conflicting emotions. ‘What news?'

‘Nasser held Marshal Amer responsible for the fiasco. It's confirmed Amer killed himself before he was to be court-martialled.'

‘Was the Marshal responsible?'

‘Nasser put his confidence in Marshal Amer. But it seems he wasn't up to the task of chief commander of the army. He was incompetent, deceptive in his briefs to Nasser about the Egyptian army's readiness. Soldiers were not adequately equipped. Most tanks in Sinai ran out of fuel, for heaven's sake.' Marwan exhaled. ‘Nasser was let down by his closest friend and relative. Can't imagine how he feels.'

Omar put his hands on the windowsill, leaned his body forward until his forehead touched the glass. ‘We fought to the bone on our end.'

Marwan approached, laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘No one doubts that.'

‘We were making progress and then suddenly the orders came to withdraw. I still don't know why.'

‘With the Egyptian army almost out of commission in Sinai, and with our feeble aerial cover, Syrian troops were exposed.'

Omar straightened. ‘Bullshit. We were pushing forward. Securing ground in the Golan Heights. But the minister of defense issued withdrawal orders.' He slammed a closed fist on the windowsill. ‘What the hell for?'

‘No one dares to ask this question to Hafez Al Assad.'

Omar swung around. ‘The Egyptians already ran their investigations and held their generals accountable. Even their president assumed accountability.' Omar thumbed his chest. ‘When are we going to prosecute the person who screwed up on the Syrian front?'

‘The whole situation is dubious. I wouldn't dig deeper if I were you. There are eyes and ears everywhere.' Marwan held him by the shoulders. ‘It's time to think ahead now. Plan for your future.'

‘Right,' Omar exhaled, snapping out of his melancholy. He shrugged Marwan's hands off, walked to the nightstand, and dug out the letter from his drawer. ‘Read this.'

Marwan ran his eyes over the letter. ‘They awarded you another star?' He saluted Omar. ‘Congratulations, First Lieutenant Bakry.'

‘Keep reading,' Omar demanded, his tone dry.

Marwan placed the letter on the nightstand. ‘Yeah, about that.' He sounded embarrassed. ‘I was going to tell you when the time was right.'

Omar scowled. ‘You've been giving my family money every month, the equivalent of my salary.'

‘A little less, I'm afraid.' Marwan pointed at the letter. ‘I didn't know you got a raise.'

Marwan's attempt to make light of the issue irked him. This was serious business. Suffering under the weight of a debt like that suffocated him, kept him awake at nights. ‘As soon as I get out of here, I'll collect my paycheck from the defense treasury and pay you back.'

‘You already have.' Marwan stepped forward, his tone serious. ‘It's the least I could do, left here like an old man while you risked your life.'

Omar stared at his friend, working hard at keeping moisture out of his eyes. ‘I appreciate your generosity, Marwan. And your sentiment. But I cannot let this be.'

Marwan shook his head. ‘You don't owe me anything.'

‘We disagree.'

Marwan exhaled in frustration. ‘Can we talk about this later then? Six months from now? Get better. Go home. Take care of your family. Then we will revisit the money issue. Does that sound good?'

‘I'll pay you in installments over four months.'

Marwan nodded. ‘Fine.'

 

24

Giving up her bedroom, Mama granted Nadia free rein to prepare the room for Omar. With the little she had to work with, Nadia used her artistic talent to transform the dull old ambiance into a lively warm one.

With Huda's help, they moved Mama's bed and dresser into the girls' room, squeezing the bulky pieces into the cramped space. Transferring Omar's bed over, Nadia positioned it at an angle facing the two windows to take advantage of the natural light filling the room most of the day. She stacked Omar's books on the wide windowsill, turning the otherwise useless space into a bookcase.

Nadia was in her element. She bustled about, cleaning, rearranging furniture and adding a splash of color here and there by hanging her younger sisters' drawings on the bare walls. Aiming to involve Fatimah in the activities while she was bed-bound, Nadia asked her to sew soft green drapes to replace the heavy beige curtains.