No Time To Blink

by Dina Silver

  “Will do, CC. Merry Christmas.”

  I placed the receiver on the phone base. Speaking with Margaret brought a huge smile to my face, but when I hung up, my smile faded and left me uneasy. I really missed my family and had no idea when I would see them again.

  I turned to Gabriel. “Hi,” I said, and he planted a kiss on my lips. “Why’d you shake your head?”

  “Our plans have changed.” He took my hands in his and sat.

  “Oh? I was looking forward to spending some time with Brigitte and Sammy and the girls. And, of course, my newest friend, Reema.” I tilted my head. “Won’t they be offended if we cancel at the last minute? I promised Reema some bouzet ashta.” I butchered the pronunciation, and he laughed.

  “You can bring it to her before we go to my cousin’s.”

  “Your cousin?”

  He let go of my hands and sat back in his chair, lighting a cigarette. “He’s like a cousin to me. Very prominent family. They live in Ras Beirut. He’s a member of parliament. There will be many other political families there and some American professors and their students. When he called to ask me, I knew you would feel much more at home there.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “His name is Danny. Danny Khalid.” Gabriel stood and blew smoke into the air.

  “And you talked with Brigitte?” I asked.

  “I talked with Sammy, of course. He is fine with any choice we make. They have a very full house as it is.” Gabriel walked out of the room for a second and then returned as I was clearing my broth from the table. I could feel him come up behind me, though he hadn’t made a sound. “Darling?” He placed an arm around my waist and pulled me close. I nearly dropped the bowl in the sink.

  I leaned back into him. “Yes?”

  “Close your eyes.”

  I closed my eyes, and he kissed the back of my neck. “Turn around, but don’t open your eyes.”

  He placed his lips on mine and then reached for the palms of my hands, kissing them and sending shivers through me. “I have a present for you.”

  I smiled. “Can I see?”

  “Not yet.” He took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom. “Don’t peek,” he said and began to unbutton my blouse. “Promise?”

  “I promise.” Goose bumps covered my chest and arms as he slid my shirt off and then removed the rest of my clothing. My hands were resting on his shoulders when he knelt and kissed my belly and then lifted me onto the bed, where he kissed every other part of me as I relaxed beneath him, eyes tightly shut, skin tingling, ears ringing, and the essence of his cologne tickling the inside of my nose.

  “Don’t break your promise,” he said as we lay entwined, trying to catch our breath. He dragged his fingertips between my breasts, which stilled at his touch when I felt something draped loosely around my neck. My hand went to it.

  “You can open your eyes,” he said.

  I lifted the gift off my skin and sat up. It was a gold chain with a teardrop emerald the size of a quarter hanging from the center. “Gabriel,” I said, eyes wide. “I don’t even know what to say. This is magnificent.” He sat, naked, and went behind me to assist with the clasp.

  “I love you, Catherine Clarke.”

  I leaned back into him, our bodies warm and bare. One kiss was all it ever took to remind me how much I loved him. I felt the sting of joyful tears. “Please hold me,” I implored. “Thank you so much.” I wrapped my fingers around the pendant and folded myself in his arms.

  “I want you to be happy here,” he whispered in my ear.

  “I’m happy wherever you are.”

  An hour later, we walked outside, hand in hand, and Walid was waiting at the curb to drive us to the home of Danny Khalid. I smacked Gabriel on the chest. “You did not make him come out on Christmas!”

  “He’s fine with it.”

  “I’m so sorry to disturb your holiday with your family. We can easily get a taxi,” I said to Walid as he approached, causing Gabriel to let go of my hand.

  “It is my honor.” He bent forward a little and opened the passenger door.

  Gabriel stopped me and abruptly grabbed my bicep. “Do not disregard me like that in front of him, CC.” He squeezed so hard, my knees buckled.

  “You’re hurting me.” I met his eyes.

  “I have hired him, and that is it. There is nothing more to be said, and he certainly does not wish to think you don’t want him here, or worse, are disagreeing with what I’ve asked him to do.” He let go.

  “OK. Of course.”

  The Khalids’ home was stunning. Built with a wine-colored brick exterior, it had three archways—each with its own ornate wreath—that lead to a cherry-red front door. A servant let us in and took our coats, which reminded me of the holiday parties my aunt and uncle would throw. There was always a coat check, regardless of how big or small the guest list. The foyer was long and wide, with marble tables on both sides, and a crimson carpet running the length of the room, leading guests to a ballroom. To our left was a five-piece orchestra, and to our right, buffet-style tables filled with delicacies, both traditional and American, as guests kept telling me when they found out where I was from.

  “We have hot dogs and hamburgers for you and our American friends!” Danny boasted after embracing me. “You are good with that?”

  “Of course I am. Thank you for having us.”

  “And New York cheesecake!” He elbowed Gabriel. “My professor friends who teach at the school, they are always going on about the cheesecake.” His excitable demeanor reminded me of a wealthier and more sophisticated version of Walid.

  “Well, now that I’m here—and with child—they will have to fight me for it,” I joked. “Cheesecake is my favorite.”

  Danny threw his arms in the air, said something in Arabic I did not understand, and proceeded to hug Gabriel and lift him off his feet. Once Gabriel was back on the ground, Danny took my hand.

  “Many congratulations to you, Catherine.” He smiled at Gabriel. “How truly wonderful for you.” He put his hands in a prayer position and bowed to us. “I wish you many blessings.”

  “Thank you very—”

  “Yasmine!” he yelled over his shoulder.

  A slim woman in a long black sleeveless dress glanced over at him. Her hair was slicked back and pulled into a tight knot. She had a cigarette holder dangling from one hand, and her dark eyebrows were arched to perfection, reminiscent of the Evil Queen in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

  “Come.” He waved to her when she did not move.

  I shifted uncomfortably in my heels and touched my pendant. I could see her apologize to the group she was with before slowly heading over to us.

  “You know Gabriel,” Danny said, and she gave my husband an odd look. “And this is his very beautiful new wife, Catherine, who is carrying their baby!”

  She stared at my hair first, as most people did, especially in a country where natural blondes were scarce. Then her eyes landed on my emerald, then made their way down again, pausing at my belly, and finished at my shoes. I would’ve felt less self-conscious standing there naked.

  “We should have them for dinner, yes?” Danny was still talking.

  “We are having them now,” she said coolly.

  Unfazed by his wife’s indifference, he went on. “You will come again, maybe next week or after the New Year. Have you taken her to Beit Chabab yet?”

  Gabriel looked uncomfortable at the question. He drew me close, sensing my discomfort. “We just got here a few days ago. We’ve hardly left the apartment.”

  “You will enjoy it there, in the mountains,” Danny said. “Maybe you can introduce Catherine to some of your American friends?” he suggested to Yasmine. “Make her feel welcome.”

  “Danny.” She said his name in a tone that sounded innocent enough, but he recognized whatever annoyance was behind it. We all did. “I was just in the middle of a conversation over there.”

  “It’s fine. Please don’t worry about it,�
� I said. “I’ve got plenty of friends.”

  That got her attention. “I won’t worry about it.” She turned to my husband. “Congratulations on the baby.”

  “Thank you, Yasmine. Wonderful to see you both again, and thank you for hosting us tonight.”

  “What are two more people?” She made a dismissive gesture with her hand and slithered back to where she was standing before.

  I looked at Gabriel, trying to convey what I was feeling with my expression, but he just kissed me.

  “Lovebirds,” Danny said and embraced us both. “Go eat and drink and be merry together.” He walked away and was immediately greeted by someone else.

  “I hope to never see that woman again,” I said to Gabriel.

  “Neither of you were very friendly to each other.”

  I turned to him and crossed my arms. “Don’t even pretend you did not notice how inexplicably rude she was. And for what?”

  He put an arm around my waist and pulled me in as if a hug would fix everything.

  “I mean it,” I said. “Danny is lovely, but if he forces her to invite us to dinner, please decline or go without me.”

  Two things made me rummage through boxes that night looking for my journals. The first was the fact that Margaret had reminded me how much I loved—and missed—writing in them, and the second was my disdain for Yasmine Khalid. My journal entry that night read in part: Just met the most awful woman on the planet.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ANN MARIE

  Chicago, 2008

  The boys and I walk in the house after going to the grocery and immediately hear noises coming from upstairs. “Wait here,” I say to them and slam my keys on the counter.

  At any other juncture in my life, I would assume there’s a thief in the house, but not anymore.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Todd screams and startles me as I find him standing in our bedroom—my bedroom—unannounced and uninvited, with my black halter-style bikini in his hand. The master bedroom has white walls, white carpet, and white bedding with a pale gray stripe. The only real color in the room comes from the bright red sweatshirt Todd’s wearing.

  I glance at my open suitcase on the floor. “What are you doing?” My blood is boiling.

  “Answer my question,” he says.

  I snatch the bathing suit from his hand. “Get out of here!” I scream.

  “What’s the suitcase for?”

  “Get out.” My temples throb. I point to the hallway and move aside, but he doesn’t budge.

  “You know you can’t take the kids anywhere without my consent.”

  “Get out, or I will call the police.” Just as I threaten him, Ryan appears in the doorway. Slim, yet tough, little Ryan with his big blue eyes and white-blond hair. Gifts from my mother’s gene pool, no doubt. He’s only seven years old, but his expression is stern and mature.

  “Stop yelling,” he says with the voice of a fallen angel and crosses his arms. He can sense the hostility between us, and my knees buckle with guilt.

  I take a deep breath. “Honey, please go back downstairs right now,” I say to Ryan in a soft voice.

  “No,” Todd interjects. “Let him stay where he is, and tell him you’re going to call the police on me.”

  “Mom?” Ryan questions me, but I ignore him.

  My hands are shaking, so I cross my arms. “Get out of here, now,” I say to Todd. And just as he’s about to respond, Ryan speaks up.

  “You better do what Mom says,” my son tells him.

  Todd glares at me, and then, for once, does what he’s told without making our child suffer through more drama. I almost commend him on his courtesy, but I decide not to. Once he’s out of the room, I slam the door shut and follow him down the stairs, where Jimmy and Luke are now standing.

  “Are you staying for dinner?” Jimmy asks excitedly. “Mom’s said she’s cooking something really good.”

  I sigh and look at Todd, pleading with my eyes. Hoping he’ll say the right thing and not make me look like the asshole, but my pleas go unanswered.

  “I’m sure your mom won’t let me. Sorry, dude.”

  “Mom?” Jimmy calls out to me, but Todd’s already heading out the front door.

  “Please keep your brothers inside,” I say to Ryan and follow Todd outside.

  “Do you care about your children at all?” I ask, walking behind him.

  He stops and turns to face me. “Fuck you.”

  “It’s an easy question, so answer it.” My voice is calm, and I look him in the eyes. “Because everything you are doing says otherwise. Do you think that little stunt doesn’t go unnoticed? Do you think their little heads are in their happy place now, as they deserve to be? Or do you think they’re doing their best to grin and bear something they know nothing about? Something they are not equipped to handle, and something that will irrevocably change who they are. Forever.”

  “I can come and go as I please. They like when I come by, so screw you. I needed my dress shoes anyway. I still have things in this house.”

  I throw my hands up. “Then you’ve answered my question. You only care about yourself.”

  Todd turns and walks away. “I hope you don’t think you’re going anywhere with those kids. I’ll make sure my attorney knows about this.”

  “And I’ll make sure to sign them up for therapy!” I shout.

  “Is everything OK?” Ryan asks when I’m back inside. Jimmy and Luke just turn and go back to watching TV.

  I drop to my knees and put my arms out. Ryan comes running to me for a hug.

  “Everything is fine,” I say into his ear. “Dad needed his dress-up shoes, but I didn’t know he was upstairs, so I got scared a little when he surprised me.” My pulse is racing.

  “Oh.”

  I let him go. “So, I’m going to do a nice thing for Daddy and make sure all of his clothes and things—whatever he might’ve left behind—are in one big pile in the garage.” I smile like the crazy lunatic I’ve become.

  For the next two hours, I empty every drawer, cabinet, and closet in the house that might contain something of Todd’s. In the garage, I lay out a tarp on the side where his car used to be and throw all his belongings on top of it. Then I snap a picture of the pile and text it to him. Easy access to your things from now on, I type. Stay out of my bedroom.

  Once I’m through, I pour myself a glass of wine and make dinner for the kids. Nothing really good, as promised earlier. Kraft Macaroni & Cheese with a side of Goldfish crackers, and steamed broccoli that none of them eat. I clean up the kitchen when they’re through and treat myself to a feast of congealed macaroni and cold broccoli florets.

  At 9:00 p.m., the boys are asleep. I pour myself another glass of wine to temper my headache and walk upstairs to my bedroom. I reach for my phone and dial my mom’s number.

  “Hello,” she answers. “I tried calling you earlier.”

  “I saw. I’m sorry. It’s been a day,” I say.

  “What happened?” she asks.

  “Honestly, I feel like the more I tell you, the less you’ll want to take my calls.”

  She makes a breathy sound on the other end. “Tell me what’s going on. I mean it. I want to be here for you.”

  I take a sip of my wine. “So, today, I stopped at the grocery after picking Jimmy and Ryan up from school, and I had Luke with me all day because Edith’s grandkids are in town to celebrate Rosh Hashanah. I was feeling all domestic and creative, so we all picked out a rotisserie chicken, and I was going to make the boys my fancy pepper-jack chicken quesadillas. But when we walked in the house, I heard a bunch of noise upstairs. I actually hoped I was being robbed, because it would’ve been better than finding Todd in my bedroom. Anyway, I completely forgot about the groceries and the boys, and spent the entire rest of the afternoon running around the house gathering his belongings and tossing them into the garage.” I pause to take a breath. “Needless to say, we all ate cardboard food for supper.”

  �
��He’s an ass,” she says.

  “I put a tarp under all of his shit, which I thought was quite generous.”

  “You should’ve left it on the front lawn.”

  “Too cliché,” I say.

  “Then you should at least put that spoiled rotisserie chicken at the bottom of the pile.”

  I smile at her cleverness.

  “There has to be something you can do to stop him from coming over,” she says.

  “Yes, I can sell this house, or buy him out.”

  “Still no offers?”

  “Nope,” I say.

  “What do you think is the biggest issue?”

  “I have no clue. My Realtor says we’re priced too high, so we lowered it a bit, but I think buyers can feel the bad karma in here.”

  “There’s not bad karma in there,” Mom says.

  “Bad karma and a pile of crap on the garage floor. Oh well. Thanks to you, I have a trip to Mexico to look forward to.” I haven’t admitted to peeking at her journals yet, because I haven’t let myself get past the confusion from the one page that read, Our first Christmas in Beirut. It’s still sitting on my nightstand while the weight of those words is sitting heavy on my chest. She has never told me anything about my father and her visiting or living in Beirut. I know that he is Lebanese, of course, but I never knew she went there with him. And now she’s chosen to box up her most intimate thoughts and send them to me. Why now?

  “Thank you for listening. I mean it.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she says.

  “I know you have some things to tell me, Mom, and I just want you to know that nothing will ever change the way I feel about our relationship.”

  “You went through the box, didn’t you?”

  I place my free hand on her journal. “I’m just looking forward to hearing what you have to say.” Which is true, but I’m also a little scared. “I love you, Mom. Good night.”

  As I hang up the phone, my thoughts turn to Todd. There was a time—after learning about his affairs—that I thought I could forgive him, and I hated myself for it. I’ve spent days and nights since then trying to figure out why I was so scared of losing him, scared of being alone, scared of disappointing my family and living with the failure and humiliation. My therapist, Monica, says many people can’t cope with the loss of control, but there’s a voice in my head that’s telling me it goes deeper than that.