Forbidden

by Emma Nichols

  She stood at the door to number five and turned the handle slowly. Craig’s front door was never locked; every day was an open house. Heavy bass thumped into the street, even though the music wasn’t that loud. It felt crude: intrusive. She stepped into the hallway to find a bottle of beer thrust into her hand.

  Craig bounded past her and up the stairs. ‘Wait there,’ he commanded, his index finger indicating to the spot her feet occupied.

  She craned her neck to see what was going on in the living room, but other than the thumping sound assaulting her ears, she couldn’t hear or see anything, or anyone. She sipped the beer, enjoying the fresh sensation in her mouth, and brushed at the reddish dust off her tan-chinos that had accumulated from the short walk.

  Craig bounded down the stairs and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. ‘You smell reeal nice,’ he said, with a smirk on his face. She slapped him on the arm. ‘C’mon darlin’, yer the birthday girl.’ He opened the living room door and all but pushed Ashley to the room. Again, voices boomed out ‘Happy birthday to you,’ and she squirmed, sipping from the bottle of beer.

  Three cheers went up, clapping Mexican wave style moved around the room full of men, and a final resounding cheer brought proceedings to a halt. ‘Thanks, everyone.’ Ashley raised her hand in appreciation, and followed Craig, clinking her bottle with the glasses she passed, heat beating through her cheeks. She would kill him! She smiled at the man who was like a big brother to her. He had drafted in the locals they worked with as well as the expats, and fortunately no sign of a redhead. She smiled. Maybe after another couple of beers, she wouldn’t give a shit anyway.

  ‘Hey Ash, happy birthday.’ Tarek interrupted her thoughts and handed over a blue silk shawl.

  ‘Wow.’ Ashley placed her beer on the table and stared open-mouthed at the locally-crafted garment; allowing it to open fully in her hands, revealing several shades of blue and a delicate silver thread that sparkled, even in the low light. ‘It’s beautiful. Thank you.’

  ‘It’s from Iman too,’ he added, lowering his eyes to observe the gift. ‘I’m glad you like it.’

  Ashley flushed. ‘I do, very much.’ Her voice faded, her fingers appreciating the lightly textured material. ‘Thank you,’ she said, holding his light-brown smiling eyes. She reached for the engineer and pulled him in for a hug. He resisted the close contact and pulled back. ‘Sorry,’ she said, her cheeks flaring at her spontaneous reaction to being given the gift. Even though she had been working with Tarek for over a year, the fact that they were on opposite shifts meant she saw very little of him. She scanned the room urgently.

  ‘It’s okay, Dad’s not here,’ Tarek said with a coy smile.

  Ashley released the breath she hadn’t even realised she had been holding, and nodded, smiling apologetically for her public display of affection. Tarek and Iman’s father, Muhammad al Maghout, had worked at the base for over thirty years and was very familiar with expat living and the exploits of engineers a long way from home. That didn’t mean he necessarily approved, though he had always treated Ashley with kindness and respect.

  Ashley’s attention wavered from the shawl, and she turned. Iman was standing behind a table loaded with food, smiling directly at her. The leftover cake was perched on the end, surrounded by a seductive display of freshly baked sweet treats.

  Iman nodded towards the sumptuous feast.

  ‘Thanks, Tarek.’ Ashley rubbed the silk between her fingers. ‘I think your sister’s calling me to eat,’ she said.

  Tarek’s eyes shone as he glanced across at his sister. ‘She is an excellent cook. She’ll make a good wife one day.’

  Ashley’s eyes widened, and she cleared her throat, holding back the speech she might have liked to give him. She moved towards the table before the rising heat hit her cheeks, holding up the shawl in her hand. ‘Thank you. I...’

  ‘Happy birthday, again,’ Iman interrupted before Ashley could present any form of complaint about the extravagant gift. It had been Tarek’s idea after all, but she had chosen the blue shawl intentionally. ‘I’m glad you like it.’

  ‘It’s beautiful, thank you.’

  ‘Here, try some Shawarma and bread.’ Iman filled a small baguette style bread with sliced marinated lamb and held it out. ‘Take it.’ She pointed at the bowls filled with thinly sliced sweet onions, salad, pickles, and hummus. ‘It goes well with those,’ she added.

  Ashley wrapped the shawl loosely around her neck, followed Iman’s instructions, and groaned as the spicy, salty flavours blended with the crisp, fresh salad on her tongue. ‘Wow, this is amazing.’ She swallowed and took another large bite of the baguette. Iman’s smile, revealing bright white teeth against her naturally tanned skin, left Ashley with partly chewed food stuck, refusing to budge no matter how hard she tried to swallow. She started to splutter and raised the back of her hand to her mouth. Taking the glass of water Iman offered, she sipped and swallowed until the lump had squeezed its way down her throat. ‘Thanks,’ she said, in a broken voice, her face flushed.

  ‘It matches your eyes,’ Iman said, with a warm smile.

  Ashley glanced down at the shawl and smiled. ‘Yes, it does.’ When she looked up, Iman was busy filling another small baguette and handing it to one of Tarek’s crew. Another local. She held the same warm smile and used the same words, and the man added the garnishes to his meat sandwich, just as she had done. There was something about his presence though, his demeanour; the way he talked too casually, with Iman. She couldn’t put a label to it, but the tingling sensation riding her spine didn’t excite her. She dismissed the feeling and headed into the kitchen, for the fridge. She pulled out a beer, rested the top against the black-marble work surface and hammered her hand down on the metal cap, flicking the lid off and sending it across the floor. Worked every time!

  ‘Hey!’ Craig slurred. He must have started on the beer straight after they got back from the base. She smiled at his rosy cheeks and the mismatch with his otherwise unshaven and rugged appearance. ‘How ya doin’?’ He slugged at the bottle in his hand.

  ‘Good.’ Ashley raised her bottle, and he clinked it with his own, downing the last dregs and throwing the bottle into an open bin. He nodded towards the fridge, and she pulled out another beer, flicked off the cap, and handed it to him. Knowingly, they stepped out the back door and onto the patio set back from the house swimming pool.

  Craig reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of Camel cigarettes, and offered one to Ashley. ‘So, ya havin’ fun?’ he asked, holding his lighter at its tip.

  Ashley dragged the smoke into her lungs and released it slowly, gazing into the clear night sky at the thousands of bright lights flickering back at her.

  ‘It’s an amazing place you know.’

  He followed her eyes, swigging from his bottle, blinking, unable to register one star from its neighbour through the alcoholic fog in his mind. ‘If ya say so.’ He shrugged and beamed a weak smile.

  She slapped him on the arm. ‘Arse.’ She stood in silence, staring up at the stars, the loud chirping of crickets singing in her ears. Strange day. ‘Thanks for...’

  ‘Is that Uranus?’ he asked, interrupting and pointing into the air somewhere, laughing.

  ‘Funny! In fact, I don’t think you could see Uranus right now even if your head was on the other way round.’ She threw the cigarette to the ground, elbowed him in the ribs, and walked off. She was still chuckling to herself when she entered the living room.

  ‘Hey boss, happy birthday.’ Dan held out a wrapped present with a handcrafted red bow on its top. ‘It’s from the lads,’ he added, his cheeks flushing as he spoke.

  Ashley took the gift and smiled at the junior field-technician, who was swiping his long blonde fringe from his face and exposing his baby-blue eyes. ‘Thanks Dan.’ He nodded his head, smiled, and stared at his feet. Carefully she removed the paper, revealing a hand carved and painted sculpture of an oil rig set in the desert. It could be any one of the rigs she had worked on in
Syria.

  ‘That’s incredible,’ she said, her index finger studying the fine details.

  ‘A guy at the souk did it for us,’ he said, with a proud smile.

  ‘It’s awesome, thanks.’ Ash held up the statue, turning it, watching the colours shift as they reflected in the dim light.

  ‘Happy birthday,’ Dan reiterated. He bobbed his head again, turned sharply, and scuttled off to the group of men in the corner of the room. Increasingly-raised voices, jeers and challenges, filled the room, as alcohol fuelled the multi-national group’s passionate debate over the on-going football World Cup, in Paris. With a strong contingent of French and English expats, that debate would continue deep into the night.

  Ashley placed the gift on the low table and she glanced around the room, her eyes settling on Iman clearing away the food table. When Iman looked up and smiled, she couldn’t stop the fire that instantly infused her cheeks. She hadn’t realised she had been staring. She brushed her hands down her white t-shirt for want of something better to do with them. ‘Can I help?’ Ash mouthed the words across the short space, her eyes tracking the food table to add clarity to the unspoken message. The word no and a shaking head came back at her, so she squeezed her hands into her pockets and stood, rocking on her feet. She sighed. She couldn’t let Iman do all the work. She stepped across to the table, picked up a triangular cake and popped it into her mouth, groaning at the sweet, nutty taste, grabbing a napkin and wiping her lips. ‘Mmm, these are delicious,’ she said.

  ‘I’m glad you like them,’ Iman said with a warm smile, though her soft voice sounded tired. She had considered becoming a trained chef a while ago, but something had stopped her. Maybe one day.

  ‘Can I help you? I can’t let you do all this on your own.’

  ‘No, it’s your birthday, and anyway, that wouldn’t be right.’ The forthright tone gave the impression that for Ash to help would be an insult.

  Ash picked up another sweet cake and started to nibble. If she wasn’t allowed to help, then the least she could do was show her appreciation for the food and eat it. ‘Did you make all of these?’ she asked, her arm sweeping across the display.

  Iman’s eyes lowered while her hands worked, piling up plates and emptying the serving trays. ‘Yes,’ she said, picking up the large stack of used dishes, and carrying them effortlessly through to the kitchen.

  Ash swallowed another delightful sweet and wiped her hands on a napkin. She didn’t want to offend Iman but was feeling deeply uncomfortable at watching and doing nothing. ‘It’s excellent,’ she said, as Iman returned. ‘There’s going to be a very lucky man out there.’ The words were out before she considered censoring them and she winced.

  Iman held her gaze, but something subtle, intangible, reflected through the light dancing in her eyes. Hurt?

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to… Your brother said…’ Ash cringed as she continued to dig a deep hole in which she wanted to bury herself. Why the fuck was she having this conversation anyway? Well, it wasn’t a conversation because it was currently one way. She was only repeating Tarek’s words, trying to fill the space her discomfort had created. Words that had infuriated her just a couple of hours earlier: words that now flowed uncensored from her mouth. What the fuck! The idea that Iman, or any other Syrian woman, could only marry a man, and often an arranged union at that, was beyond her comprehension, so why the fuck was she repeating a proposition she would violently oppose?

  ‘I love cooking. It’s my passion,’ Iman responded. The smile that formed, and the soft focus in her eyes, went some way to easing Ash’s apparent awkwardness.

  Ash stared, captivated by the warmth in Iman’s light-brown irises.

  ‘You’re very good at it,' she said, the words broken, and her mouth dry.

  ‘Maybe.’ Iman continued to hold Ash with curiosity.

  Ash broke away from the intense gaze and stared at her fingers, picking at her nails. ‘Right, I’d better be off. Early start tomorrow,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Iman lowered her eyes to the table her hands were resting on. She would be preparing breakfast in less than four hours from now.

  ‘Right… see you tomorrow then.’ Ash was already staring at the door she was about to dive through.

  ‘Yes. I hope you had a lovely birthday Ash.’

  The words halted her. There was something in the tone. ‘I did, thanks.’

  Dashing out the door, she almost fell into the street, her heart racing. She’d only taken two beers and hadn’t even finished the first one. The balmy night air was doing nothing to help her to breathe. She stood for a while, trying to settle the jittery feeling, heightened by the burning sensation low in her belly.

  Approaching her house, she frowned. She didn’t remember leaving on the ground floor light. The door squeaked when she pushed it open, but its voice was nowhere near as loud as the scream that came from the redhead standing at the kitchen sink, followed by the sound of glass smashing on the stone-tiled floor.

  ‘Kate!’ Ashley shrieked, joining the cacophony gripping the small space. Goose bumps prickled her skin, and her knees momentarily refused to hold her body up. Her jaw opened, but no other words came out. She gulped in the air instead, and her head shook from side-to-side. No, no, no!

  ‘Jesus Ashley, you scared the shit out of me.’

  ‘I… um…’ Ashley would have helped to pick up the glass but her hands were shaking, and she couldn’t move.

  Kate was standing taller and smiling now. ‘Sorry, I’m sure I must have freaked you out too. Is there a dustpan and brush anywhere?’ she asked, softly.

  Ashley pointed to the cupboard under the sink and stood rooted to the spot, stunned by the frantic clearing up that was now taking place in front of her.

  ‘There, no harm done.’ Kate tipped the glass into the bin and returned both pan and brush to their place under the sink. ‘I was just getting a drink,’ she explained, stating the obvious. ‘I found the spare room. I hope you don’t mind. I’m meant to be living at number one, but there’s a problem with the water and… and Lars sends his apologies … I hope you don’t mind… It shouldn’t be for long.’ Her eyes scanned the ceiling as she rambled apologetically.

  Ashley removed her thumb and finger from the bridge of her nose and stopped shaking her head. ‘What are you doing here Kate?’ Her glare seemed to escape Kate’s notice.

  ‘I took a job, Ash.’

  Kate's smile caught her off guard. It wasn’t the smug, conceited smile of one person getting something over on another. It was more compassionate, vulnerable even. Ashley let out a deep sigh. The anxious jittering of moments ago had turned into a full-scale war, and she felt close to throwing up. ‘It’s late. I need to get to bed.’ She turned swiftly and started to climb the stairs, stopped momentarily by the words that followed her.

  ‘Happy birthday, by the way.’

  She had no control of the moan that escaped. She took another two steps and stopped again. ‘Thanks.’ The word came out wearily, edged in defeat.

  4.

  Ashley walked swiftly down the food counter, grabbed a pastry and a coffee, and stepped straight out the back door of the restaurant. At 5.30am, it would be another half-hour or so before the place started to fill with hungry expats, and if she timed it right, she could get through breakfast without having to face, or interact with, Kate.

  She rested the pastry on a napkin on the window ledge and stood with her back to the wall, closing her puffy eyes into the sun. The warmth helped. She leaned her head forward, opened her eyes, and sipped at the hot drink, wincing as the bitterness hit the back of her tongue. The view from the building was technically the same as yesterday; only she wasn’t. She spied through the dust-coated window back into the restaurant. Still empty. She spotted an army of ants hastily heading for the pastry, picked it up quickly and took a large bite, finding it hard to swallow. No matter how she might be feeling, she needed to eat, or she wouldn’t last five minutes at the base. Her work was t
oo physically demanding to punish herself by abstaining from food. A slug of coffee softened the pastry, and its sweetness made the bitterness more tolerable. Perfect.

  Movement caught her eye, and she froze. As her brain registered who it was, she released the breath that had stopped mid-flow and leaned back into the wall. The door behind her opened and Craig stepped out, coffee in one hand and a cigarette hanging from his lips. He had it lit within half a second of being on the outside.

  ‘Mornin’,’ he grunted, his tone thick with the after-effects of excessive drinking and cigarettes. He sucked on the cigarette between his lips and started coughing. ‘That’s better,’ he jested, as he pulled it from his mouth and sipped at his hot drink.

  ‘Late one then?’ Ashley said grinning at the state of her friend.

  ‘Looked in the mirror this mornin’, have we?’ he chuckled, nodding towards Ashley’s face. The dark rings supporting her puffy eyes could easily compete with his bloodshot-eyes and grey skin-tone. She’d win hands down.

  ‘Should’ve stayed til the end eh?’ She wasn’t joking.

  ‘Can’t handle it now yer old,’ he teased.

  ‘Fuck off,’ she laughed, swallowing the last piece of pastry, and finishing her coffee. Pointing her hand in his direction, she wiggled her fingers at him. He reached into his pocket and handed over the packet. Placing the end against the red tip, she drew off Craig’s cigarette to light her own. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘So, what ya doin’ eatin’ out here?’ he asked.

  ‘Getting some fresh air.’ She inhaled the smoke and blew it up into the sky above her head, coughing at the irony. ‘Can we get going early today?’ she asked.

  ‘Yup, I’m ready t’ go.’

  ‘You not eating then?’

  ‘Already eaten.’

  Ashley’s eyes widened. She hadn’t been aware of Craig eating in the restaurant, and if she hadn’t noticed him, she could easily have missed seeing the woman she was trying to avoid. Kate! She peeked through the window, her eyes darting around the room. ‘Right, let’s go,’ she said. She stomped the barely touched cigarette into the ground and pushed Craig through the door. ‘I’ll get us another coffee for the road.’