Bitter Almonds (3 page)

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Nadia poking at Omar's shoulder in an obvious attempt to get his attention. Omar, however, fixed his eyes on his plate and ignored her. She leaned closer and whispered something in his ear. Omar arched his eyebrows. The two of them seemed to be in a world of their own. The bond between them had always been strong in a strange way, and somewhat amusing to watch.

Huda, who had been spooning food into little Farah's mouth, suddenly snapped. ‘Stop that. Leave him alone, Nadia.' Huda's way of conversing was to issue orders.

‘I wanted to know if he brought me the latest issue of The Five Adventurers Series like he promised.' Nadia sounded scared. ‘I finished my homework.'

‘You're not a child anymore, so stop acting like one,' Huda continued in the same commanding tone. ‘Let Omar eat in peace. Don't bother him.'

Omar lifted his eyes. ‘She's not bothering me.' He turned toward Nadia. ‘I'll go over your homework after supper. If you did it right, I may have something in my jacket pocket for you.'

Nadia's face brightened with a huge smile. ‘The Missing Necklace Secret issue?'

Omar nodded.

‘Bribery? Is that how you've been getting her to study?' Huda's sharp tone could have cut through the bread in Omar's hands. ‘Filling her head with nonsense from those silly translated books?'

Omar lashed out. ‘At least she's trying.'

The spoon in Huda's hand dropped on her plate. ‘What's that supposed to mean?'

Omar looked her in the eye. ‘Just because you lacked the ability to stay in school doesn't mean Nadia has to follow in your footsteps.'

‘And you have taken it upon yourself to teach her?' Huda curved her lips in a sideway smirk. ‘I wonder where you got that smart brain of yours.' She motioned with her hand toward Fatimah. ‘Your sister barely made passing grades.'

Omar's face reddened. ‘The key word is
passing
. You know, the opposite of you failing?'

‘Shut up!' Spit droplets shot out with Huda's words.

Fatimah sucked in a sharp breath, drawing her brother's attention.

Omar pushed his plate forward, mumbling under his breath, ‘Here we go again.'

‘How dare you speak to me like that?' Huda continued her verbal assault. ‘You forget your place, Omar. I am the eldest here and I will not have you—'

Mustafa smacked his palm down on the table. ‘That's enough!'

Water splashed from glasses. Huda bit her lower lip to keep quiet.

‘Omar is doing a fine job keeping Nadia on track,' Mustafa chided. ‘I would like to finish this meal in peace. Huda, I expect you to act your age. Apologize to Omar. Let's get this nonsense over with.'

‘It's fine, Uncle Mustafa,' Fatimah said. ‘Omar knows Huda doesn't mean it. No need for apology or anything like that.' She shifted her eyes to Omar. ‘I'm sure he didn't mean to upset Huda, right Omar?'

Omar nodded once.

‘Here.' Fatimah scooped a couple of spoons of rice onto Huda's plate. ‘You hardly ate anything because of Farah. You worked all day, you must be exhausted. Did you deliver a boy or a girl?'

Mustafa admired Fatimah's ability to control the boy with her soothing tone and diffuse the situation with razor-edge Huda. No one dared
talk back to Huda except for Omar. Her sour personality intimidated her siblings and kept them at bay. She had never taken to Omar in particular. Old enough to remember the circumstances of his birth, Mustafa suspected Huda saw Omar as an intruder into her family. She got along fine with Fatimah because her easy-going nature never posed a threat to Huda's authoritative character. But Omar stood in Huda's face every chance he got, shielding the others from her criticizing tongue as best he could. Even Shareef cowered behind Omar. Mustafa didn't want to admit it, but he privately acknowledged that his blood son lacked Omar's backbone.

He shifted his gaze to Shareef, quietly observing the altercation. Both elbows on the table, Shareef kept his head down, his eyes darting between Omar and Huda, a worried look on his face. If only God could switch Huda's personality with Shareef's. Then Mustafa might handle the disease eating his lungs a bit easier, knowing the family would be under his son's charge once he was gone. Mustafa shook his head. What was he thinking? Too early to ponder the grim matter of his demise. He was still able to work and provide for his children.

Taking a long gulp of water, he studied his children's faces. The water settled in his stomach like a chunk of cement. Reality dictated he should look upon strong-willed Omar—not Shareef—to take the responsibility of caring for the girls, as hard it might be for Huda to accept.

He resumed trying to swallow his substance-lacking meal. Everyone's nerves had been put to the test over the past few days. The dissolution of the unity between Syria and Egypt had hit hard. The United Arab Republic had lasted barely three years, but that was long enough for an ambitious boy like Omar to feel the disappointment and taste the bitterness of deep loss.

Omar had reasons enough to lose patience with Huda. She had dropped out of school and made it her business to demean everyone who hadn't, and she was quick to blame him for whatever mischief Shareef fell into. But the real reason lay in her obvious resentment of
his presence. Huda had made sure Omar knew the reason behind her elation at the prospect of liberating Palestine, as the charismatic president Nasser had promised in his fervent speeches. It meant Omar would connect with his roots and get out of their lives. She never came out and said it, but the boy was smart and had a sensitive nature. He knew how she felt, all right. It didn't matter anymore. Nasser's promises had disintegrated with the undone unity, along with everyone's dreams of returning to their homeland.

Mustafa wiped his plate clean with a piece of pita bread. No matter what he and Subhia did, they could not soften their eldest daughter's heart toward this orphan. Deep down inside, he couldn't blame her. He didn't need to be an expert to know the atrocities Huda had witnessed on the road the night they fled home must have ruined her young soul.

Women and children cramped on wagon beds, cars or trucks, old people balanced on the backs of horses and donkeys, families scurried on foot. Stories of the massacre in Deir Yassin and neighboring villages had rolled like a boulder down a mountain, horrific details told by the few survivors adding to its momentum. There was no way he could have protected Huda from seeing the carnage of that hideous crime. He had taken the road through the neighboring village of Ein Karim, searching for his brother and his family, praying to God they had fled to safety.

Mustafa's hand paused mid-way to his mouth. He had not been able to stop, not even to bury the children. So many bodies had been thrown in the streets like garbage, dogs biting on them. Returning the pita bite in his hand back to his plate, he glanced at Huda. It seemed like the stench of death had clung to her nose since that day, stamping her face with an expression of disgust. What kind of nightmares did she suffer? She was eight at the time. Maybe she irrationally blamed Omar for delaying their departure and subjecting them to that horror. Who knew what went on in her head? If she softened her attitude a little,
she might attract a fellow who would help her heal and start her own family, perhaps bringing her a measure of happiness. She was nearly twenty-one and time was running out on her.

‘
Alhamdulillah
. Can I get up?' Omar asked, interrupting Mustafa's thoughts.

‘You go ahead,
habibi
,' Subhia answered.

Omar left the table, taking his plate to the kitchen.

Nadia followed like a shadow. ‘Will you check my homework now?'

 

5

Four years later, 1965

On the rooftop late at night, seventeen-year-old Omar stood contemplating the city below. Fatimah referred to this solitary time-out as brooding. He increasingly sought the brief isolation, needing to separate himself from the busy noises downstairs. Sharing a room with everyone and keeping his sanity was a challenge. He used to be able to shut them out and lose himself in a book, but he had become more restless. Sometimes, he had to sneak out before Shareef took notice and followed him.

Fatimah helped create distractions, asking him to walk her home from Um Waleed's place and then telling everyone she had forgotten something and he had to return to get it, letting him take off on his own for a while.

Filling his lungs with cool air, Omar gazed upon the city lights in the distance. He sat on the railing, dangled his feet and swung his long legs back and forth. He checked his watch and decided he had at least ten minutes in this bliss before he had to return home.

Home. He sounded the word in his head. He had never known any other place, yet calling this home stopped short from warming his heart. Something was wrong with him, for sure. This was his family, no matter who had given birth to him. But something was missing. A lot of things were missing. A plan for his future, for a start. It was time he thought about what to do when he got his high school diploma.

He drew up a list titled ‘Priorities' in his head. At number one, finding a job to relieve the burden weighing on Uncle Mustafa's shoulders. The man shrank in size with each passing day.

He should ask Fatimah to help him approach Mr Waleed through his mother. The history teacher could put in a good word for him at any of the local newspapers. Knowing people in the business, he might be willing to open a door for him. Maybe they could give him a job in typesetting, or distribution. It didn't matter. It would be better than working at the wool plant. He could ask Marwan Barady for a job at his store. His best friend wouldn't hesitate, but seeking a favor from him should be his last resort. Everyone knew work relations ruined good friendships.

A cat jumped on the railing, startling him. He ran his hand on her back and pushed her closer to his side. The feline obliged. Stretching along his thigh, she rested her head on his knee. His fingers played with her warm ears.

University would have to wait. He pushed the word down to the bottom of his mental list along with dreams of working with President Nasser's team of analysts. Fanciful ambitions had no room in his world. Securing Fatimah's future took precedence. She would turn twenty-three this year. She couldn't possibly continue to work as a seamstress forever. And there was no way he would let her end up like Huda, stuck in time with no prospect of improvement. Not if he could help it.

‘If only Huda would get out of her way,' he spoke to the cat. ‘She's overshadowing her, you know? Keeping Fatimah one step behind. And Huda isn't going anywhere.'

The cat purred, stretching her legs further and hooking her front claws in the fabric of his pants.

‘Do you think I can get Mr Waleed interested in Huda?' Omar asked aloud. ‘He's a bachelor. They're close in age.' He shook his head. ‘No, I like the man too much to inflict Huda on him.' He lifted the lazy animal with both hands to his lap. ‘Let's talk about something else, shall we? Nadia's sexy friend, Sameera, for example.' He looked around,
checking he was alone, and brought the fur ball's head closer to his face. ‘What? I know she's fifteen, but have you seen her body? And that smile. Pearls for teeth, my friend.'

The cat extended her tongue to execute a circular sweep of her face. ‘You should stop by the living room window tomorrow afternoon, say around three, to see her. I promised Nadia I'd help the two of them prepare for their English exam.'

‘There you are.' Nadia's excited voice came from behind.

Omar almost dropped the cat. ‘I didn't hear you come up here.' He turned his flaming face away.

She lowered herself to the railing beside him. ‘Who were you talking to?'

He placed the cat in Nadia's lap. ‘This one is a good listener.'

Nadia inhaled with joy. She babbled nonsense to the cat in a high-pitched voice. She had a smile on her face that was almost permanent, her cheerful mood infectious. Puzzled by the strange sounds she was making, he couldn't help comparing her to Huda's depressing nature. ‘What are you doing?'

‘Speaking cat.'

‘I hope I didn't sound like that.' He swallowed, worried she might have heard what he had said about her friend earlier.

Nadia shrugged. ‘I didn't catch everything you said.' She let the cat jump back to his lap. ‘Something about Sameera and the English test?'

Omar cleared his throat. ‘Yeah. I was thinking about your class tomorrow. Sameera really needs to pass that test, right?'

Nadia turned sideways to face him and winked. ‘I know you like her.'

Seeing parts of Nadia's body hang over the edge made him nervous, and he no longer worried about her catching on to his embarrassment. He wrapped his fingers around her arm and pushed the cat aside.

‘Be careful, Omar,' she said, her voice dove-like. ‘Sameera has three brothers.'

He swung his legs to solid ground and pulled Nadia to her feet. ‘So they sent you after me. It's time to go back down.' They walked side by side toward the entrance to the stairway. ‘Don't worry. I'm not going to do anything to set Sameera's brothers on me.' He flexed his arms. ‘Besides, I can take them all in a fight.'

Nadia placed her hand on his chest. ‘Don't be stupid. You're not a superhero.'

Something gripped Omar's stomach. He saw in Nadia's brown eyes genuine concern and affection. Home. This
was
home. ‘I think it's time you graduate to reading the classics. No more adventure series for you.' He tried to keep the emotion sparked by the strange realization from spilling over in his voice.

Checking himself in the mirror one last time, Omar tucked his blue-and-white-striped shirt in his pants, ran a hand over his hair and left the bathroom. He headed to the dining table, which also served as a study area.