Bitter Almonds (7 page)

‘It's important for people to see the couple with a member of Fatimah's family in public to indicate the official status of Waleed,' Mama explained. ‘Should there be another young man thinking of approaching Fatimah, he would know to hold back and wait.'

 

10

Omar was in no mood to learn more about cultural traditions. His mind was racing and he wanted to confront Huda about her involvement in the theatrical performance of Mama Subhia. However, seeing Fatimah's face glow with happiness caused him to reconsider. He wouldn't do anything to dampen her mood.

‘Girls' business,' Nadia whispered in his ear as soon as the front door closed after the guests left. He didn't have to ask her. Nadia knew what was on his mind when their eyes met across the room. He bit his tongue to keep quiet, avoiding Huda by escaping to the roof.

To distract himself and relieve the angry energy pulsing inside, Omar paced the open space, dirty tiles under his feet and dark skies above his head. The physical examination at the military academy would take place next month. His friends who had signed up before him told him the exam was extensive and grueling. But he was in good shape. He would pass. He had to. Soon, he would have a place to stay, some income, modest though it may be, and a career once he graduated in two years. Not bad for a Palestinian refugee orphan boy. Not bad at all.

Fatimah would accept reality, once he gathered the courage to tell her. And he would. As soon as he passed the exam, his papers stamped. Since his food and lodging would be covered in the academy, he would be able to send Fatimah most of his cadet allowance. It was best to give his sister another source of income in case things didn't go well with Waleed and she had to stop working. But if what he saw on Fatimah's
face tonight was any indication, Waleed had already entered her heart.

Uncle Mustafa would worry Shareef might also join the academy, following him as usual. If he did, Shareef would no doubt fail the physical exam and go to the university as planned. Now that he had some leverage with Waleed, he should ask him to help Shareef find a part-time job, perhaps at his uncle's press. If things worked out right, Uncle Mustafa would have his son under his roof and additional income.

Mama Subhia would encourage him with his plans, being the most practical in the family, understanding his reasons for taking that step. Huda would pack his bag the instant she heard the news. The little ones would hardly miss him, Farah confiscating his bed to separate from Salma. And Nadia?

What about Nadia?

Omar slowed his pace. He approached the railing and sat in his usual spot. What of sweet precious Nadia? His friends told him cadets got a break for one day every three months. Could she handle not having him around for that long? Could she manage school without his help? Nadia had come a long way: smart, observant, kind and . . . beautiful. If he hadn't been distracted by his anger earlier, he would have told her she looked nice tonight. Very, very nice. Freed of its usual braids, her dark hair reached the small of her back. Her tea and milk skin glowed, contrasted by her fitted yellow blouse.

What the hell? Where was his mind going?

He massaged his neck. School. He was thinking of Nadia's schooling. Shareef would be of no help, his attitude toward his sister one of tolerance, nothing more. Maybe he would step in and take charge in his absence? Become more attentive and helpful? Not likely. Shareef never showed interest in Nadia's schoolwork unless it involved Sameera.

How could he warn Nadia about Sameera? Nadia's innocence prevented her from seeing her friend's true colors. He should tell her not to spend too much time with the loose girl. He wouldn't have to explain why.
Nadia wouldn't argue, trusting him. She always did. He damned himself for not letting her know she looked beautiful before he left the house. A clueless girl like Nadia should be reminded of her beauty, getting used to hearing it at home so she wouldn't be swept away by the first rake who said it. What was the chance of that happening?

His hands balled into fists. He relaxed his fingers and ran them through his hair. Shareef must pay attention, damn it. The way he carried on with Sameera. He had four sisters. Didn't he know whatever he did to someone else's sister would come back and bite him? A good number of fights in the neighborhood revolved around that concept. Always a spectator, never getting his hands dirty, Shareef hadn't learned that lesson. Every guy in the neighborhood knew Omar had no official standing as Nadia's brother, but they respected him, keeping a watchful eye on her. When a fool from another neighborhood had dared to follow Nadia on her way home from school, neighborhood boys had alerted him—not Shareef—to silence the vulgar boy. After that fight, the rest of the riffraff kept their distance. Once he was gone, who would watch out for Nadia?

Heaving a long sigh, he closed his eyes. Two years. A long time to be away from the family. Too long to be away from precious Nadia. She would be eighteen when he graduated. Who would tell her she was beautiful then?

His eyes flew open. What in God's name was wrong with him? Why was he thinking of Nadia in that twisted way? They weren't related by blood. Nadia was not his sister or half-sister. But like Fatimah, he grew up thinking of her as such. What was happening to him? Why now all of a sudden? What kind of pervert was he? He jumped to his feet and headed downstairs. God help him, he had a sick mind. He deserved to be thrown under a tank or something, the way his thoughts strayed. He had better pass that exam.

A month passed. Omar spent his days training in the streets. He improvised techniques with the help of his friend, Marwan. Most nights, he
stayed wide awake, burying his head under his pillow, trying to ignore the fact that Nadia shared Fatimah's bed on the other side of the makeshift curtain divider. Every sigh, turn, or rustle of sheets tapped his senses, causing him to recite President Nasser's many speeches to himself. Speeches he had committed to memory. When that failed to distract him, he recited every verse of the Qur'an he knew by heart, the doors of hell squeaking open to swallow him.

One Friday afternoon, as soon as the men returned from communal prayer at the mosque, Omar told everyone he had been accepted at the military academy, passing the qualifying exam. Nothing went as he had imagined. Fatimah had a fit. He had never seen her behave that way before, yelling and screaming at him, accusing him of not considering her feelings, of throwing away a future she had worked so hard to plan.

Uncle Mustafa chided Fatimah for dismissing Omar's strong patriotic drive. He patted Omar's back, sat him down, and asked details about when he had to report, what kind of training he would be enrolled in, and what he would need to get started. Shareef claimed his father wouldn't permit him to join, so he wouldn't even try. Mama Subhia looked disappointed. She shook her head and withdrew into her room. The little girls cried and asked why he had to leave. They begged him to stay. Huda, the single person behaving as predicted, shot a sinister smile and walked out.

Nadia came up to him and slid her arm in his. ‘Let's talk.'

Omar withdrew his arm the minute they left the apartment. She proceeded ahead, leading the way to the roof, but he suggested they take a walk instead. Once they hit the street, he directed her to the open square where he had once taken Fatimah. They walked in silence, passing closed shops and empty streets.

Nadia broke the silence. ‘How long have you been planning this?'

‘A while. Everything happened fast, though.'

‘How long, Omar?' she insisted.

‘About a month.'

‘Since Waleed's first visit?'

‘A few days before.'

Nadia stopped, tilted her head sideways. ‘Is this why you've been acting so strange lately? Spending a lot of time at the mosque and keeping to yourself when you're home?'

Omar remained quiet. What could he say? He was disgusted with himself. It seemed the harder he tried not to think of Nadia, the more his sick mind took him there. A mental image of Nadia's shapely body tortured him, mixing shame to its allure and painful repulsion at the same time. Like a thief hearing sirens in the distance, his heart skipped a beat every time he heard her voice or saw her heading his way. He had done his best to avoid her over the past month, and he had sunk deeper into misery. He couldn't even confide in Marwan, his one true friend. What possible words could he use to describe his fixation? He couldn't wait for the torturous academy exam, welcomed it. His noble reason for joining the military turned into a perverted drive taking hold of him. He couldn't escape it, prayed hard to be rid of it. Really hard.

‘I would have kept your secret.' Nadia touched with her delicate fingers the patch of skin that showed from her open collar.

Omar followed her fingers with his eyes. He would go to hell, no question about it.

‘Besides, how come they accepted your application without Father's approval? Shareef said he couldn't do it by himself.'

Taking a deep breath, he touched her elbow and nudged her to resume walking. ‘I'm not like Shareef.'

‘If anything, you're younger.'

‘Shareef is an only son. He is excused from military service unless his father signs him off.'

‘I don't understand.'

‘The military will not take the only boy in a family. It's the law. But an orphan is a ward of the custodian court. All I needed to join was a
signed paper from a judge. It was easy. The government encourages us orphans to join.'

Nadia stopped again. She laid a hand on his chest the way she always did to get his attention. ‘You have a family. We are your family.'

Omar stepped back. ‘I'm not your brother,' he blurted out.

‘Stop this silliness. You know we all consider you one of us.'

Heat crept up his neck, his heart thumping fast, his ears ringing. He shook his head. ‘Legally, I'm not.'

‘So what? Some judge allows you to throw yourself away like that and you think no one's going to care?'

‘Throw myself away? Joining the army is a duty for me, a step toward liberating Palestine.' He tried to control flaring anger and toned down his voice. ‘And army officials don't care as long as I'm legally signed. I'm just a number in their files.'

Nadia stepped closer. The heel of her shoe caught between pavement bricks and she lost her balance, falling onto him. ‘
I
care.'

Omar steadied her, wrapping his arms around her waist. And then he released her, as if he held pieces of glowing coal, almost shoving her in the process. He took big strides to pass her, hiding his flaming face. ‘It's final. There's no going back,' he called out over his shoulder.

She caught up with him, a hand raised to her head, checking the ribbon holding her braid. ‘When do you have to go?'

‘They give us fifteen days to get things in order.'

‘What are you going to do after you're done?'

‘I'll be an officer. A good position to be in.' He pointed at her feet. ‘Be careful. You're going to trip again.'

‘You're destined to be a teacher, not a soldier.'

‘An officer,' he corrected.

She waved him off. ‘I don't see a difference.'

‘An officer commands a unit and trains soldiers.' He glanced her way. ‘Some dreams were meant to stay just that. Nothing more.'

They reached the square. Nadia plopped on the bench, huffing in clear frustration. She crossed her legs, then crossed her arms with a jerk. ‘I don't like it.'

Omar remained on his feet. ‘You don't like me making a future for myself?'

‘I know I'm being selfish. You won't be living with us anymore. Fatimah will marry and move out too. I'll be alone.'

Were those tears shimmering in her eyes? Omar sat by her side, rested his elbows on his knees and fixed his gaze straight ahead. ‘You have your sisters and Shareef. He isn't going anywhere.'

‘Huda hates me. Farah and Salma are too young to understand me. And Shareef . . . he's not like you.'

‘You have your parents. You won't be alone. Besides, I'll visit every three months. I want you to get good grades.'

‘Who will help me with my homework?'

He leaned back, finding the perfect moment to say what was on his mind. ‘Anyone but Sameera.' He put as much authority in his voice as possible.

She brushed the bangs from her eyes. ‘Is she all you think about now?' Nadia leaned closer, her long braid spilling over her shoulder. ‘You know Shareef is taken by her, if you go he will make her forget about you.'

Omar examined his hands. ‘I'm not interested in Sameera anymore.'

‘Because of Shareef? Don't be a fool. She can't stop talking about you.'

‘You shouldn't spend too much time with her.'

‘Why?'

Taking a long breath, his eyes searched Nadia's face, close, smooth and trusting. ‘She's not good company.'

Nadia drew back and raised her eyebrows. She stared at him, chewing her lower lip.

He tore his eyes away. He should have Fatimah explain things. Didn't girls talk with each other about these matters?

‘Omar?'

He did not meet her eyes.

‘I warned you about her brothers.'

‘I didn't do anything.'

‘Then explain how you found out she's not good company.'

‘It's not important how I found out. Will you trust me?'

‘Of course I trust you.' She left the bench. ‘It's Shareef you need to worry about. Not me.'

‘Shareef can take care of himself.' He joined her and nudged her elbow to head back.

She slid her arm in his. ‘I don't blame you guys. Sameera is beautiful.'

Pulling her arm closer to his side, he allowed himself one brief moment of satisfaction. Then he untangled their arms and patted her hand before he released it. ‘Not as beautiful as you.'