The children angle did the trick; he truly felt this would push me to want to start a family.
“You’re kidding, right? You, allowing me to spend time outside the house in a working environment?”
“You’ve earned my trust. I want to see you smiling again. I want us to recapture what we once had. One of us has to give in. It’s only fair for it to be me. I want to make up for my mistakes. I owe it to you,” he said.
The olive branch had officially been extended. He was almost believable with his noble gesture. Unfortunately, faithfulness was an unreachable goal. I had to be realistic and follow through with my plan.
“I’ll have to think about it, Fouad. The only thing I know for sure is that I want Samira to come live with us. She could keep me company especially when you go on your trips.”
“That’s fine. You have my support whatever you decide,” he said holding my hands. “Fatima, when can I move back into our bedroom?”
“So, that’s what this is all about?” I said, as I abruptly removed my hands from his.
“No. It’s about you and our love, and how much I miss you.”
I desperately wanted to believe in him but I knew he could not be trusted. Everything was going according to my plans. It was best for me to let him in my bed after the position at the hospital was a done deal. If not, he might change his mind. I needed leverage and the only tool I had at my disposal was sex.
A few days later, I organized a dinner party. I invited Jamila and Nabil together with Nur, Mariam and their husbands, and a few of Fouad’s colleagues and their wives, Nessreen and Manar, who were new to our small group. They seemed to be very nice ladies and I had no problem expanding my circle of friends. Fouad was very thrilled to see his old Fatima back. I looked great and felt even better. My friends were shocked to see me in such good spirits.
“I’m going to be having competition in the kitchen pretty soon. Samira, Jamila’s aunt, is leaving Washington and coming to live with us. She’s the best. She’s like a mother to me. She taught Jamila and me everything we know about cooking.”
“Jamila always told me no one can cook like her Khale Samira,” Nabil replied. “I’m actually jealous she won’t be coming to live with us.”
“So, that’s why you’re in such a fabulous mood,” Nur stated.
“Well, that and the fact that I’ll be volunteering at the hospital,” I said.
Fouad stopped eating and looked up at me.
“Yes, I suggested that Fatima take on a new challenge. I’m certain pediatrics could benefit from her skills and knowledge. I’m very proud of her,” Fouad said. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
Everything was running smoothly.
“I’m so happy for you, Fatima. We were starting to get worried about you,” Mariam said.
“Don’t be silly. You know we all have are ups and downs. I was just feeling a little lonely with Fouad’s crazy schedule: one week home, three weeks in the field. The life of a military wife isn’t easy. I haven’t gotten used to Fouad being away from me for so long.”
What a performance, and Fouad was buying into every word.
“I know what you’re saying. I still can’t get used to it after five years of marriage,” Manar said.
“Well, someone has to make the money to keep you ladies living like queens,” said Manar’s husband Muhammad as the men laughed.
“The evening was a true success,” Fouad said as he kissed my neck from behind. “You caught me off guard with the volunteering news. I thought you wanted to think it through.”
“I did. I knew I had your support so I shared. You are not changing your mind, are you?”
“Of course not, on the contrary, I’m happy for you,” he said holding my chin up with his hand. “Let me taste your lips again, Fatima.”
As we kissed, I felt he was getting aroused, so I stopped him.
“I need more time. Good night, Fouad.”
I was truly expecting the monster from our first night to re-appear and force himself on me but he accepted my request. I still had feelings for him but I was sickened by the images of him with other women. Although he seemed regretful, there was no guarantee that he was not sleeping around.
A week later, Samira arrived to the house. I was pleased that she and Fouad got along from the start.
Every morning, Samira left, before sunrise, to pick up the piping hot pita bread from the bakery. When she brought it home, it was still puffy. After breakfast, she went to the market to buy all the fresh ingredients for that day’s meal. It was one of the perks of living in Antarah; nothing but the freshest vegetables, meat, fish and fruit.
Every item was hand picked. Homemade dairy products were delivered to our door from the countryside every few days. Seasonal items were purchased once every six months and stored in the pantry to be used year round.
While Fouad was delighted with her cooking, I was ecstatic with the idea of starting a new chapter in my life.
A Refreshing Surprise
Monday morning I went to the hospital. After the head of personnel reviewed my credentials, I was offered a job as a social worker in pediatrics. They were understaffed and in desperate need for help. I explained I could only work part-time. I was taking a chance accepting this kind of responsibility without Fouad’s consent but I was not planning to tell him about being promoted from volunteer to employee; at least not yet.
Dalal, the head nurse in pediatrics introduced me to the staff. One of the doctors was with a patient. When the patient left, she walked in with me.
“Good morning, doctor,” Dalal said.
His back was to us. He was filling out a chart. “One moment,” he said.
“I just wanted to introduce you to our new social worker.”
When he turned, I froze.
“Hello, Mrs. Aziz. Welcome to our team,” he said.
“You two know each other?”
At once, I said “No,” while he said “Yes.”
“Don’t you remember? Your friend Nur Adra introduced us. Dr. Ibrahim Al-Kateb at your service. I won’t attempt to shake your hand this time, but it is great seeing you again.”
“Oh, how foolish of me. Yes, Romeo and Juliet at the theater. How could I forget?”
“Nurse Dalal, the patient in Room 303 is asking for you,” an orderly said.
“Excuse me, doctor. Fatima, you’re in good hands,” she said rushing out.
I wanted the earth to swallow me. I remembered exactly who he was. I remembered exactly how he made me feel. But, I could not let on that his face had been imprinted in my memory since the day we met. I was like a schoolgirl with a crush. I’m sure I was blushing.
“Did you ever find your husband that night?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” I replied a little edgy.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry but I remember you were distracted asking Nur if she had seen him.”
“You remember more about that night than I do and to answer your question, yes, I found him.”
“So, did you like the play?”
“It was nice.”
“Why did you leave during intermission? I saw you taking a cab.”
“It was some kind of minor emergency. It’s been a while. I really can’t remember.”
I wanted to forget that awful night. Yet, I was curious to know why Dr. Ibrahim remembered every detail.
“You looked stunning that evening,” he said.
“Dr. Al-Kateb, I don’t think your wife would appreciate such flattery
towards another woman.”
“My wife died over a year ago but she would have agreed that you are a beautiful woman. She never understood why I married an American girl. She felt the Middle East had the most exquisite looking women in the world.”
“I’m so sorry about your wife.”
&n
bsp; “It was a real tragedy but I had to move on with my life to honor hers,” he replied with sadness in his voice.
“You can call me Fatima, doctor,” I said extending my hand.
“Ibrahim,” he said as he reached out to shake mine.
It felt like a jolt of electricity ran throughout my body. His handshake was confident. His hands were strong yet soft, the hands of a healer.
After a few seconds, I slipped my hand from his. I was afraid of my feelings. I was so vulnerable because of my situation with Fouad that I didn’t want to confuse my heart.
“Well, I better get going,” I said.
“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”
I thought about Ibrahim all day. When I got home that evening, I was greeted with flowers and a candle lit dinner.
“You really out did yourself,” I said.
“How was your first day at the hospital?” Fouad asked.
“It was great. The people are friendly and kind. I’m surrounded by children. It’s wonderful.”
“Any men I should worry about?” he asked.
“It’s not an all women’s hospital. Besides, you know you can trust me,” I replied as I rubbed his shoulders.
“I do. Your hands on my shoulders feel great, just press a little harder. Yes, that’s the spot. Thanks, Fatima.”
In reality, there was a man. A man I had not been able to get out of my mind since the first time I met him. But, I had to keep up my farce. That night, I invited Fouad back into our bedroom. We made love but it wasn’t the same. My body was there but my mind was somewhere else. I felt as empty as our first time.
At the hospital, I had a small office. It was great to have a place of my own; a place to think. I met with several nurses and doctors to get some feedback on our patients and their needs. We had some terminally ill children with parents who needed support and guidance.
My first order of business was to develop a preventative program to help keep the children of Antarah physically and emotionally healthy.
I loved my job but, I must confess, Ibrahim had become one of the major reasons I looked forward to going to work. I saw him almost every day. We did not talk much because he had a heavy patient load and he spent many hours in surgery. When we did see each other, we just made small talk.
Once a week pediatrics held meetings to exchange ideas, discuss problems and report headway in our department. In one of those meetings, Dr. Al-Kateb brought up the desperate need to disseminate information to parents about immunizing their children.
After the meeting, I approached him about working together on an immunization awareness campaign. He was thrilled with the idea. I was delighted to sink my teeth into a project that would make a difference and would earn me his respect.
The timing was ideal. Fouad was going with Rauf on a business trip for a couple of weeks, so it was the perfect opportunity to throw myself into my work without distractions.
With Fouad gone, I was much more relaxed and put full days at the hospital. I instructed Samira to make excuses if my husband called asking for me. Under no circumstance, did I want him to know that work was taking up my days.
“I have a surprise for you,” Ibrahim said.
“What is it?”
“Today we are going to some less fortunate neighborhoods to vaccinate the children. You will see the working conditions and hopefully you can come up with some ideas on how to improve what we have.”
“I’m ready. Will Dalal be joining us?”
“As far as I know, yes.”
I felt it was not appropriate for the good doctor and me to be left alone; too many eyes watching and too much room for misinterpretations. Dalal had become a good friend and I felt very comfortable around her.
We went downstairs with a few boxes of supplies. Waiting for us was a beat up van equipped with a loud speaker. We drove around the neighborhoods alerting the people that we would be in the area taking care of the children’s shots.
Then, we parked the vehicle and waited for the children to come. If the turnout was weak, we stepped out of the van and approached people directly. We tried to make the parents aware of the importance of vaccines.
It was an uphill battle. We made it possible for the children to stay healthy yet, the parents did not cooperate. They felt it was not necessary. They were more concerned with coming up with the money for their next meal.
I was faced with Antarah’s reality; extreme poverty. There were no jobs, no hope. The rich were getting wealthier and the poor seemed to be deprived of their basic needs.
As we handed out aspirin and over the counter medications that we brought to distribute among the elderly, I asked myself, “What can I do to bring a spark of hope to these people?”
We needed to modernize our equipment and establish a closer relationship with the community. We had to earn their trust, to educate them on preventative measures and to keep their children and themselves healthy. This task would be challenging, but with Dr. Al- Kateb’s support, I was certain we could improve the people’s health care.
Several months had passed. I had neglected my friends and my little Ramee. Maybe Ramee reminded me of what I wanted and could not have. I promised to spoil him and love him unconditionally and I was not doing that great of a job.
Dalal and I had grown closer because we spent so much time together. When I met her, she was a newlywed. Now, she was ready to give birth to her first child. I wanted to do something special for her so, I convinced Fouad to let me throw her a surprise baby shower.
This was unheard of in Antarah but it was an American custom that I felt the ladies would enjoy. They would all bring their children, their motherhood tips and advice and I could play host and have some fun.
I invited close to fifteen women and told them to bring along other girlfriends. It was probably thirty of us. We let our hair down, literally, because there were no men around. We listened to Arabic music and danced. Jamila and I showed off our belly dancing skills, as taught by Mama. We laughed so hard, it felt like the good old days. The days I had no cares in the world.
Dalal finally arrived. She was so excited, I thought she would go into labor in the living room. I told everyone that the custom was for the ladies to bring a baby gift. Something the mother would probably need for her newborn.
I guess it was the newness of it all but, the ladies went all out. Dalal was very thankful because these were things she would otherwise not have been able to afford.
Samira outdid herself with the food. She made our favorite Arabic and American dishes. We ordered a huge cake decorated with pink and blue baby rattles on a mint green background. We ate, danced and talked until our hearts were content.
I was very intrigued with one of the guests who didn’t fit the cookie cutter mold. She came in with no scarf and wearing tight jeans, a turtle neck sweater, a leather jacket and leather ankle boots. She had a very fashionable short haircut with some blonde highlights and a distinctive fragrance, a mixture of sandalwood and vanilla.
“Hi. I’m Fatima. Welcome to my home,” I said.
“Fatima, I’ve heard so much about you. You have a lovely place,” she replied.
“Are you a friend of Dalal’s?”
“Yes. I’m actually her sister-in-law, Esmaa” she said as she twirled her ring with her thumb.
“Engaged?” I asked looking at the ring on her right hand.
“God no!” she replied relieved. “I don’t want a man to tell me what to do, what to wear. I’m happy the way I am. I really don’t have time for anyone. My work is very consuming and I like it that way.”
Her life started to sound better than mine. No one to take into account, total freedom to do what she wanted, and no strings attached…Esmaa was striking; not beautiful in the traditional sense of the word, but alluring in a self- confident, self-possessed way.
> “So, what do you do, Esmaa?” I asked.
“I just arrived from Louisiana.”
“The U.S.”
“Last time I checked.” She chuckled. “I’m a nuclear and civil engineer. I helped in the design of the external tank for the space shuttle.”
“You work for NASA,” I replied. “I’m impressed. What are you doing here? Just visiting I suppose.”
“Actually, the company I worked for is subcontracted by NASA. Recently, I was recruited by Antarah’s government to work with their weapons division,” she answered. “The money is good and the opportunity is more challenging. Besides, I had nothing keeping me in the U.S.”
The first thing that came to my mind were all the poor people of Antarah struggling to put food on their tables and the government spending its money foolishly developing weapons to help us kill each other. It was disappointing to live in a world where the value of human life was reduced to greed and the pursuit of power.
Suddenly, I was tapped on the shoulder.
“So, should Dalal open the gifts?” Nur asked.
“Sure,” I said turning my head, then back to Esmaa. “Well, it was great meeting you. Good luck with your new job and don’t be a stranger.”
As Dalal opened her gifts, I remembered how she had told me about a sister-in-law that lived in America that had made her life a living hell and had almost broken up her marriage before it even started. I hoped the riff between them had been buried because Dalal was too happy to have her life turned upside down by Esmaa.
Days later, I heard from Esmaa. She called me at the hospital. She said she wanted to pass by to have a cup of tea and talk.
We met in my office.
“I really wanted to speak to someone who could relate to me,” Esmaa confessed as she continued in English. “The transition is a bit harder than I anticipated. The men of Antarah aren’t ready for a strong, independent woman like me. How did you ever adapt?”
“My situation was very different. You’re here by choice. I had no other option. I came to Antarah to get married. Believe me, if I had to do it all over again, I would probably not be here today.”
Mediteranean Sunset Page 8
