by Tom Corbett
“I’m a boy, well a male at least. So, I guess that makes me awful too.”
Azita raised her head to look at him. “Papa used that same line on me, probably won’t work anymore.” She always referred to Pamir as Papa and to Chris as Dad or Father.
“But it worked when he used it?”
“I was younger then, and I think he must have said it better.” She let a small smile escape.
“Okay, kiddo, I am not going to compete with Papa. Tell me what is going on.”
Azita looked at him and then sighed. “It is too much suddenly. Part of it is Benji. Remember the day of my ‘Profile in Courage’ talk and the family gathering after? We announced that we had committed to one another. I believed him. I believed in each other. I gave him…everything.”
“Wait, has he broken it off?” Chris looked a bit angry.
“No,” she responded sharply, “that would take courage on his part. But I know. I can see it in his eyes.”
“Zita,” Chris called her by his familiar name for her, “how can he be so stupid? You are the best thing any guy could hope for. I can’t believe he has lost interest.”
“It’s not him…not him.” Another tear made its way down her cheek.
“His parents?”
She nodded and then buried her head into his chest. “He doesn’t talk about it. I mean he does but not really. Do you understand?”
“Sure,” he murmured, though he was totally lost.
The girl continued anyway. “I mean, I’ve tried to get him to open up, really, to say what he is feeling…boys are hopeless.”
“You won’t get any argument from me. There are probably dozens of women out there that use my name as a swear word.”
“I heard it was hundreds.” She wondered what her words conveyed to him. She hoped her comment was light enough.
“Yes, my name is likely the eponym for male bastard.” Chris remained silent for a moment, kicking himself for using a word she probably did not recognize. Perhaps she did, though. She always amazed him with her prodigious intellect, from the moment he rescued her some dozen years earlier after the death of her biological parents. She had stolen his heart then and continued to do so as she managed some humor despite her pain. He could feel her tears on his shirt. “Hmmm, methinks you listened to my evil sister. She had me pegged as the playboy of the Western world.”
“Was she wrong?” With her face pressed against him, her voice was muffled.
“No…she probably did not know the half of it. I was a shit with women. I admit it.”
“But why?” she managed to get out. “You are one of the kindest people I know, after your wife of course, and your sister, and Karen, and my sister. Okay, but you make it into the top dozen.” Suddenly, the ache inside her subsided a bit.
“I was beginning to worry there,” he smiled. “Well, kiddo, I can say that I never lied, and I surely never intended any harm.”
“But you did, cause harm that is. You must have, and you probably knew you were doing it, somewhere inside at least.” She pulled her head back to look at him. “You cannot love, or not love, and not know you are hurting someone. I have given him so much, trusted him so.”
“C’mon let’s walk.” They got up and started to ramble around the perimeter of the rectangle. In truth, he wanted a few moments to collect his thoughts. He was out of his league and knew it. “All the rumors about me are true. Before Amar, I was a shit with women. I went through one after another. But like I said, I never promised anything to anyone. In fact, I was brutally honest.”
“And you feel no guilt?”
“Some, but not as much as I probably should. I comforted myself that we usually were on the same page. Neither of us were ever serious, or so I convinced myself. But there were times when I knew the girl felt too much, maybe was falling for me. My heart told me to back off, but I didn’t always. I was selfish. For that I feel like shit.”
“But you aren’t like that. You really are so very kind.”
“Well, I blame it on the hormones, too much testosterone.
But that is mostly BS. I have thought about my life before Amar, how I was. All of this might be a post-rationalization, but I felt so alone. Yes, I had siblings and friends and colleagues. Sure, I was always the man with a quip, the guy who could keep them laughing or inspire and even console. But inside, I was empty. I hated my father, my mother was a distant drunk back then, my older brother Chuck was on his way out, for good. Kay had drifted away from me, while Kat was too young and, back then, invisible. There was no one. Well, Ricky was my best friend, but he was an ocean away after college and, besides, he was a guy. You can’t really be open with a guy, that is suicide. I kind of grabbed on to Karen as an anchor of sorts. She was a lesbian, so safe. And she didn’t put up with my BS, which was good. But she could never fill the gap. And then…” He stopped.
“Then what?”
“I met you, and Deena, and Amar. Suddenly, I had a family. One day I had nothing, the next an entire family. Suddenly, I was…connected. Zita, you have no idea! People looked at me and thought my life was gifted, perhaps blessed. I had money, a trust fund, went to the best schools, had gained some respect as a college athlete, apparently had looks and charm and wit. Then, finishing my advanced studies at this university, I was able to look around and create whatever I wanted. I hated my father, his venality and his obsequious, grasping greed. So, I could create something I knew would drive him a bit nuts, how great was that. Women, however, came easy. Money and a few jokes will do wonders. Well, the money is magical.”
“Except it cannot bring you happiness.” she added, then murmured, “So sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”
To her relief, he went on as if she had remained silent. “I still have not figured out why I started my international service organization. Sure, I had this niche theory I felt strongly about, the program bridge-building and integrated-service theory. But mostly I wanted the challenge of building something myself. I would show Father that I could do something on my own, something he hated and could not understand. And the best thing, the very best thing, was that a good chunk of the early money came from his business associates, both those that admired him and many that loathed him. He could not dismiss that. No, he for certain could not ignore that. Maybe that is why I still raise money for the program from these sources, even if I am no longer involved full time and we are on a more stable footing money-wise. I love rubbing it in his face. In the end, I am not sure I did anything unique, but it has made me feel good. Wow, as I say the words, I sound pathetic.”
“No…what you were doing, creating, was so good. No need for explanations nor doubts. There is no need to rationalize it as anger or revenge. It is a good thing.”
“Zita, thank you. I needed to hear that. Frankly, I didn’t know what to think about my creation until I met you and Amar and your family. I used to visit sites, just in and out, simply making sure that things were okay. I don’t believe I connected with what was going on. When I came to pull my sister out of harm’s way that might have been the first time that I really looked at what I was doing. Almost from the moment I landed I knew I was not taking Kay away. You did that to me. But it took me a while longer to figure the bigger things out. That first day, walking with you through the refugee camp opened my eyes, my heart. Seeing you with the girls in that school you started. Meeting your father, your family, those moments were a revelation. I remember saying to Kay later that we all have opportunities to help others just a little, at least from time to time, but few of us ever mean everything to another person. That is what you all were doing there, and my sister and Amar, you were giving people everything. Simple lesson, right there before me, a lesson that someone reminded me of just this morning. But sometimes I can be such a dolt.”
“True,” she murmured, “no argument from me.” She grabbed his arm and leaned into him. She needed his touch. “Despite you being a total dolt, I still love you.”
“That’s it,”
he said too loudly, looking around to see if others were hearing them. Only a young man, probably a student, lurked in the vicinity and he seemed very disinterested. “I felt love for the first time. Oh, I was very close to Jules. She meant so much to me though I rather pushed her away emotionally after she rejected me. Self-protection, I guess. But love, deep love, you and Amar brought that into my life. Then, everything started to make sense. I wasn’t driven so much by anger anymore.”
Azita stopped walking and turned to him. “When did you know that you loved her?”
“Amar?”
“No, Angelina Jolie.”
They both smiled. They both knew how to keep from getting too deep. From opposite sides of the world, yet so much alike. “You know, I can still take a switch to your backside, kiddo.”
“Too late to start that,” she responded. “Besides, I doubt you can match the morality police of Kabul. Face it, you’re slowing up, old man. I can outrun you, but before I take off at a dead run, when did you know you loved her?”
He walked a few more steps without a word. “The first moment I saw her in person, not as an employee on a Skype screen. My response was overwhelming, undeniable. Isn’t that something. People say that men can’t commit. Well, some say that. But it has been my experience that men fall in love at first sight. Women take their time. Amar says that she knew early on I was the one because Kay had said all these nice things about me. I have never bought that. Kay and I hardly knew each other as adults until we connected again at the medical station.”
Azita laughed. “Wrong again.”
“Kiddo, after all this time, you still don’t get it. I am omniscient and prescient.”
“And an idiot.” She smiled slyly.
“Better start running.” He gave her his most obviously disingenuous scowl.
Azita was feeling better. She was glad she had texted him. Amar could commiserate but Chris could make her laugh. “Seriously, I can remember what Kay said about you before you arrived. Yes, we were all concerned that you would try to take your sister away and maybe fire Amar, but then Kay would talk about you. She loved you, she really did. She would talk about your kindness and your commitment and how smart you were…all those times you huddled together as youngsters, trying to figure stuff out. They were priceless moments for her, she held on to them tightly. She really held you in awe and that rubbed off on Amar. Her words even affected me…until I met you.”
“Hmm, Amar once told me that, about what Kay had said about me, but I thought she made it up. Damn, I really do have a helluva time accepting compliments. But listen, back to the main topic. Tell me, do you love Benjamin?”
Azita was silent. Chris waited, and waited, and finally she spoke. “I’m not sure. I thought I did. I have great affection for him. I admire him. Intellectually, we are alike and have such common interests. I saw us working together, as partners, over the course of our lives.”
“My God, girl, that is like talking about a colleague.” Chris grabbed her shoulders and turned her so that she faced him. “When you see him, what do you feel?”
“Comfort, I think, when I am not angry with him.” She offered nothing more. “We have shared so much. We do have common interests, similar aspirations. We talked about Omnism the very first time we met.”
“Funny what works with women. I remember seducing a woman or two by noting how much I loved the philosophy of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin.”
Azita laughed out loud despite herself. “You really are shameless, but I can see how that might work, though not with the women you were with before mother, at least based on what I was told.”
“No doubt. But listen, kiddo, I am not going to tell you what to feel or believe. To this day, in the morning, when I look over at Amar sleeping next to me, my heart still flutters. I cannot believe I am so fortunate. When we are alone, doing nothing, I will look across the room at her…when she isn’t aware of my stare. There is no pose in such moments, merely truth. It is not just her beauty, the sweet expression of her eyes or the way her hair frames her face. I know I am looking at a person capable of such enormous love. I have no idea how I was found deserving of her.”
“None of us do.” She hugged him, as if she thought he might need a clue that she was kidding. “And don’t kid yourself, we women always know when the man we love is looking.”
“Promise me one thing,” Chris said seriously. “Never settle for anything less than you deserve. You are so much like Amar, so full of love.”
She shuddered just a bit. “One thing, one more thing. Chris, I have been with him, you know, as a woman I mean. I could never admit this to you, silly I suppose but I never wanted you to be disappointed in me. Amar knows but…”
“I knew.”
“Did Amar tell you?” she asked.
“No, if she promised to keep your secret, she would never betray you.”
Chris smiled at her. “I could just tell. Besides, just how many virgins of your advanced age do you think there are in the world? Tell me, what is gnawing at you. Spit it out, kiddo. What’s bothering you?”
“Dad, I need to know that are you not disappointed in me. It is so hard for a Muslim girl. I feel so ashamed at times. I know I am in a different culture but still…I cannot help but believe that no good boy will ever want me now. You have no idea how suffocating my culture is. Are you ashamed of me at all?”
He embraced her. “Zita, my love for you is complete, unshakable. I cannot imagine what you can do to be a better person though we might work on dialing back that so-called wit of yours. Of course, I would disown you if you voted against the Labor candidate. But my pathetic attempts at wit aside, have you ever thought about why I decided to adopt you? I was the guy who was never going to get married and certainly not have any children of my own. This was a harsh world and raising children seemed like a responsibility that was beyond me. You changed me, forever. Well, you and Amar, and Deena helped. You taught me love, how to feel hope. I doubt you can even begin to understand how much I owe you. Me be disappointed in you? Unless you are a secret serial murderer, that is never going to happen.”
“My head tells me that this is what you would say. My gut is somewhere else. How I was raised permitted no compromise on some things. There were girls who were killed by their parents, or who disappeared, for doing what Benjamin and I have done. They are called honor killings. The Taliban encouraged such things, but they are found throughout the Mideast.”
They stopped walking. “You cannot believe Pamir and Madeena would have rejected you. I met them. I saw their love. It never could have happened.”
“Perhaps not, but my own shame would be worse than death. How could I disappoint such people? You know as well as I. It is not the reality of things that matter. It is the way we see it, feel it. Hell is not a place that we go to, it is a torture we carry around inside of us.”
Chris pulled her to him once again and held her tightly. He wished to squeeze the anguish out of her. “Listen, kiddo, I have to run. I have a meeting with Karen and others about this trip through the Mideast she is putting together. We need to pick this up later. For now, here’s the thing. You need to figure out how you feel about Ben. I don’t give a damn that you slept with him. That takes nothing away from what makes you special, and certainly is no reason to stay with him. You are, though, facing a big life choice. If you decide that Ben is not the one, let him go. If he is what you want, need, then fight for him. Just don’t hold on to him for the wrong reasons, that would disappoint me. That would really, really disappoint me. One last thing, if you do let him go, I guarantee the boys will flock to you. Your problem will be me, beating all those horny bastards off with a stick.” He displayed his crooked smile and she relaxed. “Will you be okay? We will chat more later. I promise.”
“Wait,” she yelled as he started to walk away. “One more thing.” He looked back, but she looked away as if deciding whether to continue. “Okay, listen, this trip of Karen’s must include Afghanistan. I want t
o go. I need to go.”
“But I thought you were going to help Doctor Aronson with his research?”
Suddenly, Azita looked directly at him, as if her decision was final. “He can always get another assistant, there are students lining up who are dying to work with him. I think one of them tried to poison me last week just to get my spot.” She smiled but that did not detract from her resolution.
“But your future as a research doctor. I have talked to some of your professors. They rave about your prospects…your potential as a teacher and researcher.”
“But that’s it,” she yelled. “I don’t know what I want. Sometimes, I feel that I am blessed. How could I not pursue a career as a teacher and seeker of knowledge? Is there any higher calling? But then, like you, I remember those moments in the villages, the refugee camps, the front-line medical clinics, the schools for girls. You realize that you do mean everything to these people. They have nothing, nothing but violence and despair, nothing but your caring, and your skills. Such moments are irreplaceable.”
“I understand,” he said out loud but thought to himself that he should be more careful about what he said. Somehow talking her into a return to her homeland, where war still raged, was the last thing he wanted. Yet, he knew at some level that he could not stand in her way. So, this also was a part of parenting: pure terror. There should have been a warning label that this was part of the deal.
Azita pushed on. “I…I feel like I’m getting lost. When I came here, I worried each night that I would not be good enough. Sometimes I would half dream that they discovered I was a fraud and were sending me back to Kabul. And then, they started praising me, asking me to assist in their research, I was flattered. But…”
“But what, Zita?”
“I think I started losing track of me, who I am or should be. I was being what others expected of me. Does that make sense? What you keep saying, about meaning everything to someone. I cannot shake that very feeling I once had. You are right, it is special.” Before he could respond, she went on. “When I came here, to this magical place, I wanted to be a healer. I wanted to go back to my country and heal that broken place. But all that is slipping away. The magic here is strong and, because of that, my culture is slipping away. When was I in a mosque last? I have not been back home since starting medical studies. Look how I dress. I have committed many sins. I…I am not sure who I am anymore…who I want to be. I must go back. I need to feel the warmth of my country, see the mountains again, hear the call to prayer. Most of all, I must do some real healing for a change.”
