The next morning, Adele sat at the kitchen table while her mother hurriedly moved from the stove to the phone, wiping her hands on her white apron before lifting the receiver. Mona, Katrina, and Youssef had left the house shortly after they had all awoke to continue the search for Rima, which had gone on most of the evening. Sleepy-eyed, Adele had watched her older sisters quietly dress before joining their father in the awaiting car. Adele was to stay behind in case Rima or Mitchell called. She wondered if Mitchell and Rima had indeed run off together. Did they elope in Niagara Falls? She had heard of a chapel there that performed quick weddings for cheap. She imagined Rima standing next to her blond boyfriend, the rushing falls a romantic backdrop as they exchanged their vows. Her imagination turned to the phone as it rang loudly. She was about to pick it up when Samira pushed her back in her seat and headed for the phone instead.
“Hello,” Samira answered. “Who’s this? Rima?”
Adele sat up, pressing her elbows on the table. “Where are you, Rima?” Samira asked in an anguished voice. She switched into Arabic. “What are you doing at Norah’s grandparents’ house?” Adele listened intently, cupping her face in her hands. Norah was Rima’s best friend. Rima had known her since kindergarten. The Azar sisters had visited her grandparents’ farmhouse on several occasions, sometimes sleeping over if Youssef was feeling generous. Adele closed her eyes, could see the steeple-like roof and the red shutters while she imagined Rima talking on the phone in the living room where Haida masks hung above the fireplace. But Adele suddenly awoke from her reveries to hear soft whimpers from her mother’s throat. “Please don’t cry,” Adele whispered across the room. Samira’s eyes met hers then looked at the cradle of the phone again. “Why did you leave?” Samira asked.
Adele guessed there was no answer on the other end because silence echoed in the kitchen. Finally, her mother said, “You know your father won’t allow you to date him. He wants you to marry a Lebanese man, not an enklese. There’s nothing wrong with Ziad. Why don’t you want to date him? He’s a good man and he can support you. He’s a lawyer. What does this other boy do for a living? He’s just a student. How can he take care of you? Come home. We can talk about this some more at home. Maybe your father will change his mind about Mitchell. We’ll talk at home about this. Your father’s out looking for you now with Katrina and Mona but they’ll be back soon. Come home, habibti,” Samira pleaded. “No, he won’t be angry. He’s just worried about you, that is all. He wants you back home.”
Adele wondered if Rima would obey their mother. But then she heard her mother say in broken English, “You good girl, Rima. You do right thing. We talk with your Babba, okay? Bye, bye, habibti.”
Adele sighed, then watched her mother open the oven door, bend down and sprinkle the simmering food with allspice, the orange-brownish spice melting into chicken skin and shaven potatoes.
That afternoon, Adele sat in the backseat of her father’s green Chevy. She watched her father lean forward and stare out the window of the car while Katrina stood on the front porch of Norah’s grandparents’ farmhouse. Within a few minutes, Rima emerged from the house with the suitcase she had hurriedly packed the other day in her hands. Katrina and Rima walked slowly down the stone pathway to Youssef’s car. Adele couldn’t take her eyes away from Rima’s eyes. They were swollen and red. Only when her father opened the door, did she stop staring and look at Youssef as he slid out of the car and walked to the back where he opened the trunk.
“Hello, Babba,” Rima said, smiling weakly. Adele looked at Mona beside her but Mona didn’t meet her gaze, only dug her heels into the floor of the car.
Youssef didn’t reply. He grabbed the suitcase out of Rima’s hands and lifted it into the trunk. Slamming the trunk shut, he walked back to the driver’s side, formed his lips into a tiny smile before waving goodbye to Norah’s grandparents. He then slid into the car once more. Rima slipped into the passenger’s side while Katrina squeezed into the backseat with Adele and Mona. They drove home in silence.
“What were you thinking disobeying my orders to stop seeing that enklese boy? Why were you acting like a crazy girl? Running away!” Youssef screamed, tapping his finger against his temple. He stood by the counter in the kitchen, near the fridge while his daughters sat at the table and his wife stood in front of the stove. The smell of spiced chicken and potatoes in the oven floated in the air. “Were you even thinking? Running away for God’s sake! How stupid can you be? You know how people talk. What if someone saw you with the suitcase?”
“Maybe they’d think she was going on vacation,” Adele said, laughing. Youssef turned around and glared at her.
“You keep your big mouth shut!”
“Jeez, I was only joking,” Adele whispered, leaning close to Mona.
Mona shoved her aside. “What’s wrong with you?” she hissed while their father barked.
“What you do not only affects you but your entire family, Rima. You should know this by now. You’re Lebanese! Everyone talks. You disgraced us with your thoughtless behaviour. Your Aunt Nabiha knows the whole story and you know how she talks.”
“Then why did you tell her?” Adele said innocently.
Youssef slammed his fists on the oak counter. Adele jumped. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”
“Yes, Babba.” She bit her lower lip.
Mona hit her on the arm. “Shut up, Monkey!”
“Okay,” Adele mumbled. “You don’t have to yell at me too.”
Youssef started in on Rima again. “You’re taking my good name and dragging it through the mud.”
“I’m sorry, Babba,” Rima cried, sitting at the kitchen table.
“You have to stop dating this boy. You should date Ziad because he’ll marry you. The enklese boy is only after one thing. Ziad won’t take advantage of you,” Youssef insisted. “If you don’t show any interest in Ziad, people will talk. They’ll know that you love another man and they’ll call you a sharmouta.”
“No they won’t,” Adele spoke up again.
Youssef turned from Rima and glowered at Adele. He drew his lips together. “Shut your fucking mouth, Monkey. Mind your own business. You know why they call you Monkey? It’s because you look like one!”
“And you’re an ape. A stupid ape!” Adele shot back.
Youssef stomped across the kitchen, stopped in front of her and raised his arm. Samira said nothing, glancing at Adele then quietly taking the chicken out of the oven and letting the pan cool on the stovetop.
Adele startled then said, “Hit me, Babba. I swear if you do, I’m calling the cops.”
Instead, Youssef slapped his hand against his thigh. He grunted then faced Rima and continued his tirade. “You have to break-up with that enklese boy and marry Ziad,” he said. And as he spoke, he looked from daughter to daughter and somehow he realized he was outnumbered. Adele could sense this too, by the way her father hesitated, then added, “Ziad can give you a good life. What’s more important than that, Rima?”
“Love, Babba,” Adele answered again. “Love is more important.” Rima glanced up from the floor across at Adele and faintly smiled. “She loves Mitchell,” Adele added.
Youssef looked at Adele, his voice rising in anger once more. “How many times do I have to tell you to shut up?”
Adele wanted to stick her tongue out at her father but she didn’t. She just glared back at him.
“Babba, Adele is right,” Rima finally said. “I don’t love Ziad. I love Mitchell.”
Adele lifted up her legs and sat cross-legged on the kitchen chair. Mona and Katrina looked at her, their faces strained with worry. Youssef also looked at Adele, the way her large eyes scrunched and glared at him. “I don’t know how I ever produced such a defiant child. You’re always fighting with me. How the hell did I have a child like you?” Then he turned to look at Rima. “You’ll start dating Ziad again and forget about this Mitchell guy.
You’ll see. Everything will be all right. But I’ll never forget this, Rima. This running away. You’ve disgraced your Mama and me. Hopefully, Ziad will still want you after fooling around with that enklese. You made yourself out to be a whore.”
Rima began to cry. Youssef walked out of the kitchen with Samira following him. Adele placed her left hand on top of Rima’s right one. “Babba’s a bastard.”
Rima nodded, sniffling at the same time.
“You’re not a whore,” Adele insisted. “Don’t listen to him. He called me an ugly monkey and that’s not true,” she said, flipping back her curly hair and smiling. “I’m too beautiful to be a monkey.” Rima laughed out loud. Adele smiled, too, happy to hear her sister’s laughter.
Then Rima stared across at Mona and Katrina, their faces pale. “You guys look like you’ve seen a corpse.”
“Well, we thought you’d be one,” Mona said.
And, rather than cry, Rima laughed. Her sisters joined her and they laughed until tears ran down their faces.
Four weeks later, Adele sat in the living room and watched Ziad slip a large diamond ring on Rima’s finger. Her entire family, along with Ziad’s uncle and aunt, were gathered in the Azar house to witness this engagement. Ziad was thirty years old but looked younger than his years with his thick black hair. He wore an open-collared dress shirt and a large crucifix on a gold chain. Following her sisters’ lead, Adele leaned in close and gave him a kiss on each cheek. His dark skin was clean-shaven with the exception of a thick moustache above his full lips. And his eyelashes were just as long as Adele’s and her sisters’. His deep-set eyes sat under a bush of black brows that were positioned close together and over a large, hooked nose. Adele hated the feel of his moustache on her face and afterwards, she rubbed her cheeks to erase the itchiness from the coarse hairs. He then grabbed her thin wrist and pulled her to his lap. His breath smelled like tobacco. “Hey, Adele, you can be one of the bridesmaids,” he smirked. He pointed at her flat chest. “But we’ll have to get oranges to go into your bra, so you’ll match your sisters.” She hated him that instant. Pulling away, she straightened her shirt and sat beside her mother, who got up and walked into the kitchen. “I’m only kidding, Monkey.”
“Don’t call me that,” Adele said, moving away from Ziad. “That’s a family nickname.”
“And Ziad is now family,” Youssef said, grinning widely.
Adele wondered why Rima was letting this man into their family. What about Mitchell? But Ziad had charmed Rima with flowers and jewellery, all the things she loved. She learned the story of his life. How he came to Canada ten years ago, went to university to obtain a Canadian law degree, and built his law practice with nothing but the brain in his head and a small loan from his uncle. He found a good clientele through the large Lebanese community. If you needed a lawyer, he was the man to go to. Rima had even overlooked her initial disgust about his unsightly hairiness. Now his ape-like hand rested possessively on Rima’s arm, making sure she didn’t get away. It suddenly occurred to Adele that Rima was indeed marrying a man exactly like their father, only younger. Adele kept quiet, pretending that she hadn’t noticed Ziad’s resemblance to her father by focusing on the maple trees outside the living room window.
Samira returned to the living room and served the others red wine then she gave Adele a glass of juice. Adele tried to smile as everyone raised their glasses and made a toast to Ziad and Rima, but she couldn’t. She ground her teeth as she concentrated on the large diamond ring adorning her sister’s short finger. She pulled her eyes away from the ring and settled them once again on the maple trees outside.
CHAPTER 6
ADELE RAN DOWN THE STAIRS TO GET HER BIKE. She was now fourteen. Once in the grocery store, she rolled the bike past Katrina, who was reading a magazine. “Where are you off to?” Katrina asked, looking up.
“Just a bike ride,” Adele replied, looking across at her sister. Katrina’s pale face was bright in the nectar glow of the morning sun. Unlike her sisters, Katrina had unusually white skin; she didn’t look Lebanese. She was just as pretty as Mona and Rima but there was one difference: she was modest. Katrina suddenly stared at Adele and exclaimed, “Don’t stay out all day like you usually do. Remember we have the hafli for Rima and Ziad tonight.”
“How can I forget?” Adele answered, making a face at the mention of her future brother-in-law’s name. “It’s not even ten o’clock yet and everyone’s in the kitchen making noise. I just need to get away for a little while.”
“Okay. Tonight’s important, Adele. It’s the party before the big day.”
She smiled sarcastically. “I’m so excited. Rima is marrying a wonderful man.” She stuck her finger in her mouth and pretended to gag.
Katrina frowned and warned, “Be nice.”
“I’m always nice. It’s Ziad you should be warning because he’s the one who’s always opening his big mouth, not me,” Adele insisted. “But I promise to be nicer to Ziad even though he’s a chauvinist. You hear the way he speaks.” She coughed before she started to imitate Ziad with his thick Arabic accent. “When I marry your sister Rima, I expect her to bring me a glass of water if I want one. Even if I’m standing by the fridge, and can lean over and pull out the pitcher of water, pour a glass for myself, I expect Rima to do this for me. You see, she’s my wife. This is what a wife does for her husband. She must honour me. And obey me like the wedding vows say. And being the pig that I am, I can slap her ass while she’s reaching into the fridge,” Adele said, lifting her hands from the handlebars of her bike, slapping them together.
Katrina covered her mouth to stifle her laughter.
Adele continued. “Rima is very lucky to marry a man like me. I can’t cook. I don’t know how to clean. I don’t know how to find my way to the laundry room. You see, the only difference between her and my mother is that she has the honour of having sex with me and carrying my children, which will be boys because unlike your father, I make baby boys. After all, I’m a macho man and the man wears the pants in the house, even if they’re dirty from not knowing how to turn on the washing machine!”
Katrina began to laugh again. “Stop it, Adele. Babba might hear you.”
“Yeah, and I really care what Babba thinks. You should know me better.”
“That’s why I’m warning you, Adele. Get out of here,” she said, playfully. “Go for your ride. See you later, Monkey.”
As soon as the bike was out of the store, Adele hopped on it and pedalled down the streets of her neighbourhood, feeling the coolness of the morning before the humidity of this July day would fill her lungs.
With the wind in her hair, Adele cruised along streets lined with houses built over a century ago. The sun rose behind a cluster of grey clouds. The only noise Adele could hear was the rubber tires of her bike on the pavement. She gazed at the red-brick homes. She loved the old houses for their porches and shuttered windows, the wooden steps that creaked when she stepped on them while delivering groceries to the older residents. Her parents’ home was modern, built in the late seventies. It stood out amongst the historical houses of the neighbourhood. Not only were they the only immigrants in the area, Adele thought, but their home was an outcast too!
She took a deep breath then suddenly swerved to the side as one of her pant legs got caught on the chain of her bike. In an attempt to free herself, she pulled her body up from the seat. At the same time, she tried to shake her pant leg free, but abruptly crashed down on the bar of her bike. “Oh, God,” she groaned, guiding herself and the bike to the curb. The pain between her legs shot through her body. She clenched her teeth, trying to hold back the tears. Standing by the sidewalk, she bent down and tugged her trousers from the chain. The material tore as she pulled her pant leg but she didn’t care, she was in too much agony. She lifted her leg over the bar and pressed her thighs together, which helped alleviate the sharp pains pulsating in her pubic area. She limped un
steadily while she gripped the handlebars of her bike and rolled it down the street back home.
“How was your bike ride?” Katrina asked, standing behind the counter, fumbling with a package of gum.
Adele looked at her sister briefly then stared down at her body. Her pants were torn and grease-stained from the chain.
“Did you have a nice ride?” Katrina asked again.
“Yeah,” Adele lied, looking across at her sister. She then quickly carried the bike into the backroom, leaving Katrina to gaze out the window of the store again with the white noise of the cooler humming in the background.
In the bathroom, Adele unzipped her pants and pulled them off. She threw them on the floor, then slipped off her underwear and spotted the bloodstains. Her hands shook while she turned on the faucet to the sink and held her underwear under the lukewarm water. Grabbing the bar of soap, she moved it across her stained panties until the blood was sucked down the drain. She wrung her underwear tightly and bent down on the floor, opening the cupboard of the sink, and hanging her wet underpants on the steel pipes of plumbing. Quickly, she picked up her torn trousers and scurried across the hallway into her bedroom, then closed the door softly behind her.
The Allspice Bath Page 8
