Nothing Is Predictable

by Adalina Mae

  “Yes, Sister, I really am, I’m visiting from America. You know, I visited relatives here when I was a little girl. See that old house? Did you know my mother framed the pictures of the Stations of the Cross in the church, and my father was the one who put up that bell and fixed the fence and built the stairs thirty years ago?”

  “Oh, my child! No, I didn’t know, that is wonderful! Father, come and meet this lovely young lady from America,” she called to one of the passing fathers.

  “Father, this lady claims her father was the one who repaired and changed the bell. Sorry, what was your name, my dear?” she asked.

  “Well then, you must be the daughter of Yousif,” the father said.

  “Oh wow! You knew my father, Father?” I asked with an ironic smile.

  “Yes, I have heard of your father’s story. What a shame he was murdered. It was over the other side of the valley. Locals said there were loud shots echoing in the valley that night. You must have been very young when it happened.”

  “Loud shots? More than one shot? Anything else you know, Father? Was there more than one person involved? Do you know who they are or what happened to them?” I asked curiously.

  That gypsy in America was right, oh my God, she was right.

  “My child, would it help? No need to keep carrying lost battles with you. No one knows exactly. Anyway, people talk nonsense at times and it was a long time ago. Go inside the church and say a prayer for your father, you will feel better.” He walked away after blessing me with the sign of the cross. Sister smiled at me and walked away with him.

  I thought about what he had said. Would it help? He was absolutely right. There was no need to delve into the past. It would yield only heartache and sleepless nights and I was already trying to escape the nightmares. Aside from the ominous statement of the gypsy, “He doesn’t want you to know; your life will be in danger,” and all that crap, knowing his life had been taken by someone else, and not because of his impetuous stupidity, at least I could feel some empathy toward him now. Knowing who did it would serve no purpose to anyone.

  It could even have been the natural echoes of the valley that had made the sound of one shot sound like several shots being fired. The valley echoes; could it have been that? Still, the villagers and their ancestors had lived here for centuries and were accustomed to the natural environment, so who was I to second-guess them.

  I did as the father had advised. I went into the main church and prayed for my whole family. Now it was time to walk across to the cemetery, have closure with my father, and put my demons to rest.

  Chapter 36

  Please forgive me

  Lebanon 2008

  As I approached the area, my heart began to beat with anxiety. I was about to enter the place where Father had been laid to rest twenty-eight years ago. There were a few doors at the front of a big concrete room, and I had been instructed it was the first door on the church side. The names of the deceased had faded after all these years and so I sat down in front of the door and began to talk to Dad for the first time in twenty-eight years.

  It almost felt like a coffee catchup on all the things that had happened in my life. The only way I was able to deal with it was to imagine him there without focusing on the fact he was dead. I spoke about the family’s milestones, my failures in my relationships, Mother, his grandchildren, and my career, and filled him in on everything he had missed. I had to do that first, before I was able to build up my nerve and talk about the last night I’d had with him.

  I began to panic, but I persisted because I needed to get it off my chest. If I had closure, I hoped the nightmares would stop. I was determined to break down that wall, release him, and forgive him so we could all move on. Maybe that was the reason I was attracting heartache in my life. I had anger and ‘Daddy’ issues to deal with. I was attracting everything that reminded me of Dad: trauma, drama, betrayal, and loss. So, this was it. It had to be now. This was what I had traveled thousands of miles for.

  Now…forgive him, for God’s sake, I said silently.

  I still couldn’t cry, or feel empathy, so I sat there in silence, gazing at the mountains, picking bits of grass, tapping my feet, humming, and staring at every ant and insect that passed me. I was waiting for some awareness of what I had to do.

  All of a sudden, my phone rang. It was Benji ringing from America. Are you serious? I couldn’t even get reception in some areas of LA, and now I was thousands of miles away in a valley at the end of nowhere in the Middle East that barely had electricity, and my phone worked. Damn!

  I stood up anxiously to tell him where I was.

  “Benji! You wouldn’t believe where I am at the moment!”

  “Hey sis, how’s everything going in Lebanon? Are you okay there? So, where are you?”

  “I’m sitting in front of Dad’s grave. Can you believe I’m here?”

  “That’s frickin’ awesome, good on you sis. You needed to do this. Ah, I wish I was there with you.” He sounded sad yet joyous. I knew I had touched a sensitive spot in him.

  “Yeah, I know, it really is amazing down here, I can’t explain this feeling.”

  “Do you know which door it is?” he asked.

  “It’s the first one in the line toward the church, right?”

  “No, you idiot, it’s the third one in.”

  “You mean I’ve been blabbering to some stranger for the past hour?” We both chuckled over that. I shuffled across to the third door, feeling awkward about my intrusion.

  “Anyway sis, I’ll let you have your moment with him. Enjoy your time and let me know if you need anything, okay?”

  “Thanks, I’ll be fine. It’s that poor dead bugger I was blabbering to who might need therapy now! See ya, say hi to Mom.” I hung up, laughing at my own joke.

  Now I finally squatted in front of the right door. I tried to connect in the way I needed, but I simply couldn’t. I spent another twenty minutes and finished my prayers, drained from all the talking I’d already done. I walked away dissatisfied. I had not accomplished closure nor given my forgiveness.

  As I reached the bend, I turned around and looked at the door again and for the first time in my life, something came over me and I felt sorry for him.

  “How can I leave him behind?” I began to tear up and I leant over the rockery, staring back at his burial place, unable to bring myself to leave. I felt I was abandoning him. He was my only family left behind in Lebanon. I stared at that door and felt something pulling me back. I knew it was him, wanting me to stay with him. His little princess who’s all grown up now. Then I had a feeling of empathy that I had never felt toward him and ran back to the door, crying and struggling with the unfamiliar emotions.

  I fell on my knees with my hands pressed against the rusty door and called out, “I’m sorry Dad, I’m sorry I hated you and cursed you, I should have understood, you were lost and needed medical help, I’m sorry I hated you all these years. I know you have been wanting my forgiveness. I think I need your forgiveness, Dad! I need you to forgive me for disowning you and abandoning you all my life. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I forgive you, I forgive you! Please forgive me too!”

  I pressed my cheek against the door firmly, banging on it with one hand, yearning to get just one hug from him. I needed to hug him, I needed my father. I was burning for that loving embrace I used to give him when he was sober. I desperately needed his fatherly comfort. I needed his laughs when he saw me do something cute, I needed his generosity toward my selfish childish desires that he could never refuse. I needed to sit on his lap as he gave me sips of coffee. I wanted my father more than the necessity of breathing.

  “Get up, get out of that box, just get up please, please just come out!” I cried and cried, banging on the door until I had no tears left. Then I slowly moved back, stared at the door, and visualized him coming out to hug me to satisfy my need. After a while, my awareness returned, and I knew I had achieved my mission. A mountain was lifted off my shoulders. I
felt free.

  I leant over, kissed the ground in front of his door, and lay down to rest beside him, letting him know his little Zahra was there and also to feel him beside me. Quietly, I began to sing to him. I don’t know how many songs I sang, I just kept on humming and singing until I fell asleep from exhaustion. Shortly after I woke up peacefully, the moment felt right to leave.

  It was time to let him be. I smiled at the door, kissed it for the last time, stood up, and this time, walked away peacefully without looking back.

  * * *

  I made my way back to the café where the chauffeur was waiting. He was smoking an argili, sometimes called a hookah. I walked up to him and snatched it off him without asking.

  “Give me that, I need it!” I said, and puffed my way through the pipe.

  “You definitely look like you need it! Are you okay, Miss? Did you accomplish what you came here for?” He looked at my eyes, red and swollen from crying.

  “I think so, my friend, I think so, but damn, this argili tastes good.” We both chuckled at my inappropriate timing and response and then ordered some lunch and another argili. The whole time, he tried to distract me by telling jokes and making me laugh to help mend my sadness. It was kind of him to consider my feelings and emotional state that day.

  Now, it was time to see whether my nightmares would stop. I had a feeling they would, now that I had forgiven my father.

  Quid pro quo. I thought. I forgive…he will stop the nightmares.

  Only a Lebanese person who is buried under layers of earth would still negotiate. I was willing to hold up my end of the bargain. Now, I had to wait to see if he did.

  Chapter 37

  Is that really you?

  Lebanon 2008

  A couple of days later, after an exhausting day walking the streets of Beirut, I returned to my hotel around 6 pm. As I walked into the hotel lobby, I saw the back of a man who looked familiar. He was talking to a couple of businessmen. I walked around the lobby to see if I recognized him and as he turned around, our eyes immediately connected.

  It was the love of my life, Jamal. I hadn’t seen him or heard from him in fifteen years.

  He stood up and walked toward me, disregarding his present company. Our eyes looked nowhere but at each other. I felt everything around me move in slow motion. There was no sound other than my breath and his footsteps as he approached me. Then he stopped and took the whole of me in. He smiled, his eyes full of tears.

  “It’s you,” he said softly. “I can’t believe it’s you, you are still so beautiful.”

  I leapt toward him and hugged him passionately. I couldn’t let go of him. We held onto each other tightly. It was as if he was a soldier returning home after many years.

  “I’m so happy to see you! I couldn’t wish for anyone other than you to be with me here,” I said to him, crying happy tears. We finally let go of each other and he stood back. Then he reached out his hand with an open palm for me to take so he could escort me to the lobby lounge.

  “Wait for me here, please, don’t go anywhere. I’m just about to finish my meeting. Give me five minutes.” He sat me down and walked backwards, shaking his head in disbelief.

  I was so overwhelmed to see him again when I had finally made peace with my father. Could this be a sign that we were meant for each other after all these years? Was he the one I was meant to be with? Was that the reason for all the other failed relationships? Was it the work of Dad getting me out here to visit his grave so I could find Jamal again? All these thoughts went through my mind in just five minutes.

  He returned and sat beside me on the lounge and ordered some wine.

  “So, what are you doing in Lebanon?” he asked.

  “Actually, long story, but um, I went to visit Dad’s grave two days ago. That’s the reason I came to Lebanon.”

  “Wow, that’s nice, Zara! Was it the first time you’d visited his grave? I know you struggled with him for years. How long has it been now since he died?”

  “Twenty-eight years and yes, it’s the first time. Finally.”

  “Twenty-eight years? Has it been that long already? Well, I haven’t seen you in fifteen years, you know that?” he asked.

  “How can I forget. It was 1993 here in Lebanon! So tell me, what’s your story now? Where have you been living all these years?” I was curious to know about his life.

  “I’ve been working in Dubai and China, I travel often, but my family lives here in Lebanon.”

  “Family?”

  “Yes, family, I’m married now, and I have two kids,” he said, slowly moving his head up and down, reluctant to ruin our moment with this reality.

  “Two kids or three kids?” I said sarcastically, then we both chuckled.

  My thoughts were jumping out of my brain, screaming, Well there you go, Zara. You have just answered your own frickin’ questions. It wasn’t a sign. There is no miracle to bring us together. He’s Goddamn married now.

  “Mmm, that’s lovely. Do your children have your blue eyes?”

  “Haha, you still have a thing for my eyes. Actually, my son looks exactly like me. So tell me about you, have you remarried?”

  “Me? No, I’m still the free bird.”

  “How is that possible? Someone as beautiful as you not snatched up by now? Are the men in America blind?”

  “Actually yes, they are.” This time I slowly moved my head up and down and raised my left eyebrow.

  “Haha, still as adorable and cute as ever. You know, you’re the one that got away, Zara. You broke my heart, and here you are fifteen years later sitting in front of me. I can’t believe I’m looking at you. I’ve never stopped thinking about you.”

  “Really, Jamal? So why did you get married then?”

  “I had to move on. What can I say? You rejected me, remember? Option A or B.”

  “I know, I’m so embarrassed about that. They were hard times and I was young and stupid back then. But I’m all grown up now.”

  “Yes, you certainly are all grown up now. You’re thirty-six now, right? Still gorgeous as ever in my eyes, Zara. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known, and you will always be my one and only true love.”

  “Please Jamal, let’s not go there now, I’m emotionally fragile. You’re married, and I don’t want to open up old wounds. It’s not going to get us anywhere.” Now I knew with certainty he could never be mine.

  “You’re right. Are you here alone? Anyone with you?” he asked.

  “Yes, alone, I like to travel alone, I can’t tolerate company while I’m traveling. Free as a bird, remember?”

  “You’re very lucky and very brave indeed. When do you leave?” he asked curiously.

  “Tomorrow, I leave for Rome.”

  “I wish I could come with you, if only I could!” He looked into my eyes, sad to know I’d be slipping away again so soon.

  “That’s not a good idea, you know that,” I said.

  “I know, I’m only joking.” He took a deep breath, looked at the floor then back at me, and said, “Anyway, I better go, I have dinner plans with the family tonight and being around you hurts, like a knife stabbing me in the heart. If I stay any longer I think this time I will kidnap you and run away to the ends of the world to keep you with me.” He laughed at his own fantasy, yet I could see how much he wanted it to be a reality.

  “But anyway, I’ve learnt we can’t have everything in life, Zara. It saddens me that sometimes what we want most in life is what we can’t have. I’m so glad I saw you though, really! You have cheered my heart with your presence, something I haven’t felt in a long time.” He took a deep breath and sighed heavily.

  We stood up and hugged each other. He ran his fingers gently through my hair. We pressed our cheeks together like old times. Our lips did not connect as we rested our foreheads together. I inhaled the essence of him, which made my heart overflow with his loving energy, taking a few deep breaths of that debilitating cologne he always wore. Then I took a step back. He grabb
ed my hands, kissed them, and embraced them to his heart with his eyes closed, just like he used to do. Then he released them and walked away without looking back at me.

  I stared after him, dejected that some other lucky woman had him. The last time, I was the one who had walked away, selfish and cold-hearted. As he reached the exit door, he turned around, looked at me, shook his head, waved goodbye, and walked out.

  “I love you,” I mumbled as he disappeared out the door.

  I walked up to my room to pack for Rome.

  Chapter 38

  ‘Roming’ in Rome

  Italy 2008

  Have you ever flown Alitalia? My God, how hot are the pilots?

  Roma! Here I come again and this time, I planned on spending a whole week exploring.

  Bella Roma! Ciao bella! Bella! Bella! Bella! I heard constantly throughout the week I was in Rome. As I walked through the Colosseum, I felt the presence and energy of the roaring crowd from thousands of years ago haunting the place. I walked through the ruins, touched the stones that possibly Caesar had once passed. I felt connected with my inner spirituality and with everything around me. I felt free of the burdens of the past. My inner demons had lost their battle. I was victorious, with the awareness of a life to look forward to. All those months learning how to meditate had finally paid off. I had found peace of mind.

  I walked through every side street, visited all the main attractions, including St Peters, and the most beautiful building in the city, the Venezia building. With the artworks in the Vatican, I understood why it was the richest city in the world, despite being the smallest. The Sistine Chapel was breathtaking. I couldn’t take my eyes off the ceiling. As I walked the city streets, I was struck by the contrast between ancient and modern. Audis and Mercedes parked along the roads then bang, out of nowhere, a monument thousands of years old, like the Trevi Fountain.