Ghady & Rawan

by Fatima Sharafeddine

  “You’re right about that,” Zeina says, before she hears them being called to the dining room for the third time. Time for dinner.

  “Shh!” Ghady whispers. “Not a word.”

  “As you command,” Zeina whispers, giving an exaggerated gesture that makes Ghady laugh for the first time that day.

  Ghady feels a little less anxious after talking with his sister. He decides that tonight he’ll answer Rawan’s latest letter.

  Tuesday, December 16, 2008

  Rawan,

  It’s been a week since I wrote you. I’m really sorry, but I know you’ll forgive me when you hear the reason. I mean, of course I’m busy with school, and the reading and studying and all, but I have other problems at school . . . that are really serious. I’ll tell you everything when I see you. Seriously, God knows how I’m going to make it through this year. But don’t worry about my stuff too much. I promise I’ll take care of myself and I won’t do anything stupid.

  Are things really that bad with your parents? I don’t believe it! I’ve known them since I was little, and I can’t imagine them fighting. I hope they patch things up really soon. Now I understand why you haven’t been feeling well lately.

  What’s your other news? What about your school and activities? I don’t even know if you were elected this year’s student representative for your class. Did it happen? And what about your drawing? Surely you’ve become a master artist.☺ I can’t wait to see your art work, Ms. Rawan.

  The thing that makes me happy these days is playing the oud. When I play, I release all my anger, just like you told me to. My lessons are okay. Not excellent, but good, and I’m definitely going to work harder this year. In three days, we’ll have Christmas break. Three weeks of freedom and sleeping till noon! I might go with my family on a trip to Seville in southern Spain. I’m really excited about it, and I can practice speaking Spanish, because I’m learning that in school, too. Did I tell you? Anyway, what are you doing over the break? I remember you said you had to do a lot of schoolwork over vacation. I hope I’m wrong.

  I have to go now.

  Don’t take a long time to answer like I did . . . I’m waiting for your reply, and tell Jad hi.

  Love,

  Ghady

  PINK SHOES

  RAWAN WAKES UP EARLY. She remembers Ghady. Then she logs onto her account and reads his latest message. What a coincidence. Ghady and I are both having problems at the same time, and we both need someone to stand by and support us, even if it’s only moral support. She writes:

  Thursday, December 18, 2008

  My friend,

  I decided to answer your email as soon as I finished reading it. I hope that your problems get solved soon, Ghady. I’m worried about you. I don’t know what you mean by really serious problems, but I hope they’re not the kind that make you dizzy and lose your mind. You said that you would tell me more when you see me. Does that mean I’ll have to wait all the way until summer vacation? Do you think I can wait that long? Anyhow, I’m trusting that you won’t do anything else stupid.

  As for what’s happening between my parents, it’s the same, or maybe even worse. The elections for class representative are right before the holiday break. I don’t feel psyched for it anymore. Even my drawing lessons—I don’t enjoy them as much as I used to.

  Wow, the holidays start tomorrow for you guys! Ours start in a week. How unfair. Obviously my teachers are going to drown us in tons of homework as usual.☺

  I can’t wait for the vacation. I plan to spend most of it with my grandma. I feel more relaxed at her place, and it will be good for me to spend some time away from the drama at home.

  I hope you have an awesome time in Seville. Think of me when you’re devouring that delicious paella! Don’t take too long to write back. I have to get ready for school now, it’s almost 7:30!

  Bye . . .

  Your friend,

  Rawan

  Rawan steps into the schoolyard convinced that the principal, Ms. Salwa, will comment on her bushy hair and pink shoes. Her shoes and school uniform clash, but she decided to wear them anyway.

  Rawan feels Ms. Salwa’s eyes on her, following her around the yard. The principal enjoys grabbing—or more like “arresting”—students who break school rules. She also loves scolding them; it’s her favorite pastime. She never smiles, and her face is always stern, to the point that the kids call her “Cop Salwa.”

  Many times, Rawan has wondered how Ms. Salwa expresses joy. She tries to imagine her laughing out loud at a joke or a funny movie.

  And now here she comes. Rawan steadies herself for the string of observations about what’s wrong with her, and mentally prepares herself to go home and change her shoes if she’s asked to do it. The last thing she expects is Ms. Salwa kindly putting a hand on her shoulder and saying with a warm smile, “Rawan, you know full well that this color isn’t allowed. Don’t wear those shoes to school ever again, and please tie your hair up. Your face is prettier when we can see it.” I can’t believe it. Ms. Salwa is actually smiling at me. I must be dreaming.

  As it turns out, Ms. Salwa isn’t the only one who has become kind all of a sudden. It’s as if kindness had suddenly become mandatory for all her teachers and classmates, especially when it comes to Rawan. Instead of the Chemistry teacher putting her down for a bad grade, she gives Rawan a few words of encouragement. She also says that the grade will be thrown out if Rawan does better next time. Her Geography teacher doesn’t lay into her when she tells him that she hasn’t done her homework, but instead tells her to turn it in later in the week. And before the English teacher leaves the room, she gives Rawan a reassuring pat and whispers in her ear, “Be strong, Rawan. We all go through difficult patches, and . . .”

  Rawan doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence—she feels a coldness spread through her body. Now she understands why everyone is being so nice to her: they all know about her problem. She suddenly feels embarrassed and uncomfortable. She looks into the eyes of the other kids in the class, hoping to figure out who knows what and who’s pitying her. In that moment, Rawan wishes she could just disappear, run out of class, far away from the stares she feels are following her. She imagines what everyone must think. Poor Rawan . . . her parents are getting a divorce . . . her family is falling apart . . . poor girl . . . what will happen to her?

  During the ten o’clock break, she heads for her friends and asks them outright, “Have any of you told someone what I told you?” Everyone says no except Noor. Rawan turns to her angrily. “Noor—did you tell someone about my parents? It feels like everyone knows: the principal, the teachers, even the other kids.”

  Noor bows her head and avoids Rawan’s steady gaze. “I told the English teacher because she asked why you were falling behind all of a sudden. She knows we’re friends. I wanted to help and explain what was happening with you, and . . . I told Nadine, too. She also asked what was up with you. She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone. That big-mouth. Why did I ever trust her? Rawan, I’m sorry. I had no idea it would spread like wildfire, I’m really sorry.”

  Hearing Noor’s answer, Rawan explodes. Her friends can’t manage to calm her down. She, herself, almost can’t believe what she’s saying. Angry words, thoughtless words. She yells in Noor’s face, “You’re just jealous because I have a family and I live with my mom and dad in the same house. You must have been happy when you found out my parents were separating, just like yours, so you hurried up and spread the news near and far.” She finishes her rant with a single menacing sentence: “You’re not my friend and I never want to speak to you again.”

  Noor looks at Rawan with tears in her eyes and moves far away.

  Rawan falls silent. She feels like she’s woken up from a dream. No—more like a nightmare. Her final sentence echoes loudly in her ears. She feels embarrassed when she looks at her friends’ faces, and they look at her reproachfully, their gazes heavy with blame. I really didn’t have to say all that. I went overboard. In a flash, her feelin
gs seesaw. No, she deserved it. She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. I can be understanding, but she’s the one who made the mistake in the first place. A real friend doesn’t spill your secrets.

  That day, Rawan tells her friends that she’s decided to withdraw from the elections. When asked why, she gives the excuse that she’s busy with schoolwork and wants to pull her grades up, which means she can’t take on any new responsibilities.

  But the truth is she doesn’t want a pity vote from her friends because of what she’s going through. And after what happened between Noor and her, the whole thing would be awkward. They’d have to choose between the two of them, and their vote would be like standing with one girl and against the other. Rawan doesn’t want to be put in such an uncomfortable and difficult position. Her current issues are more than she can handle.

  TO SEVILLE

  FOR SOME REASON, GHADY doesn’t see Michael at school in the last two days before Christmas and New Year’s break. There is no trace of him on the playground, although he spots Michael’s group of followers from time to time. In the absence of their “leader,” they don’t come up to him. The two days pass peacefully for Ghady, and, on Friday evening, he and his family go to the airport—to Seville!

  During the vacation in Seville, Ghady forgets his problems at school, at least for a while. But for some reason, whenever he sees a boy on the street or sidewalk who looks like he’s smoking pot, he imagines it’s Michael. One day, as he’s walking in a garden with Zeina while their parents are out shopping, he tells her: “Do you know that, wherever I look, I see boys like Michael? At first glance, I think maybe he’s really come to Spain.”

  “Maybe because there are a lot of English tourists here, and he’s English,” his sister says.

  “What if he really is here with his family?” Ghady asks, adding quickly: “But no. It’s not possible.”

  “Why isn’t it possible?” Zeina asks.

  “Matthias lives across the street from Michael, and he told me that Michael lives with only his mom, and he hardly ever goes on vacation with her. Sometimes he goes to visit his dad in London. Matthias said Michael’s mom travels a lot, and, when she does, Michael stays at home by himself. Money isn’t a problem, and she gives him all the cash he needs, so he won’t keep calling while she’s away. Michael doesn’t like visiting his dad—his parents separated when he was just three. His mom says his dad was violent and abusive, so she left him.”

  “What, are you opening an investigation? You have a lot of information, boy!”

  Ghady laughs. “I have friends. That’s all there is to it.”

  “Now I feel sorry for Michael. His life definitely hasn’t been easy.”

  “Don’t be weird, Zeina. How can you feel sorry for him? He’s a bad person.”

  As they walk, Ghady and Zeina find an internet café.

  “Let’s go in,” Ghady says. “I want to check my email. Do you have any cash?”

  “Just seven euros. I think it’s enough.”

  Ghady reads the prices on the coffee shop’s glass front: “Two euros an hour.”

  That’s enough money for the internet and a small glass of juice for each of them.

  As soon as Ghady opens his mailbox, his head starts thudding and his face goes red. It’s a message from Michael. He wrote only a few words.

  Tuesday December 23, 2008

  I’m right behind you. Did you think you could run away, coward? Show me you’re a man and meet me behind the gym during lunch on the first day back after break. Michael.

  Ghady doesn’t answer the letter, but he doesn’t delete it.

  There’s another one from Rawan, and he writes a quick reply.

  Tuesday December 23, 2008

  My dear friend,

  I want to wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! I’m in Spain right now, with Zeina and my mom and dad. You should come visit this country—it’s really beautiful. The people look like us, and their music even sounds like ours. They call it “flamenco.”

  All my love,

  Ghady

  ESCAPE

  RAWAN ARRIVES home. She eats lunch with her parents, and, as has been usual lately, responds to their questions without really thinking. They are always the same questions. “How was your day? Any grades you want to share? Do you have a lot of work for tomorrow?” The questions are followed by a long, dreary silence that lasts until the end of the meal.

  Rawan has started getting used to the clear tension between her parents, which is broken up now and then by annoying chitchat about stuff that doesn’t even matter.

  Later that afternoon, something new happens, adding a thrill to the household’s boring routine. While she is in her room, staring at the pages of her book, Rawan hears her father’s voice bellowing in the room next to hers. “Every day, it’s ‘I want money, I want money.’ What do you do with all the money you take, Rani? Isn’t it enough that I’m paying your sky-high college fees? Do you know what most people your age are doing? They’re working to make their own money and paying their own way through college. And what do you do? You go out with your friends and spend all your time having fun and bleeding my money dry. When I was your age, I was working to support my parents! Go on! Find a job, then maybe you’ll finally understand the value of hard work.” Rawan is surprised to hear no comeback from her brother. Maybe he’s so shocked he can’t speak. Baba, who always spoils him and gives in to whatever he wants, is asking him to work! Baba, who used to push back if Mama even asked Rani to carry his plate to the kitchen or hang up his clothes. I wonder what has changed. Is he trying to cut down on our costs here at home so he can save up for his new life? With someone else?

  Rawan freezes as this idea buds inside her head. Things are becoming clearer, little by little, and what’s strange is that she might be the only one who knows what is going on.

  The next morning, Rawan walks into the schoolyard and makes her way to the oak tree. She waves at her friends and notices that Noor isn’t with them. She’s a little relieved, because she doesn’t know how she would act if she saw Noor again. Feelings of regret over what happened yesterday needle at her. She couldn’t control her temper when talking to Noor, who, unfortunately for her, had to deal with the fury that’s been bubbling inside Rawan for weeks—like lava just waiting to erupt.

  The bell rings. Rawan walks into the classroom with her friends. She sees Noor come in without looking in her direction. She must have come late. It looks like she didn’t sleep well. She looks wiped. Obviously what I said yesterday must have hurt and kept her awake. Another idea creeps into Rawan’s mind. Whatever, staying up late is good for her. Maybe it gave her a chance to think about what she did to me. Thanks to her, everyone here knows my story. It might as well have been printed in the school paper.

  The final days before vacation pass as dull and normal as can be. Rawan doesn’t talk to Noor, and she doesn’t congratulate her for being elected class representative. Her friends attempt to convince Rawan to move on and talk to Noor, but fail. Raed suggests leaving it now and coming back to it after the break, which will give Rawan time to get over her family crisis or at least make her peace with it.

  Rawan spends most of her holiday at her grandma’s. She enjoys playing backgammon and helping her grandmother cook the delicious dishes she loves, like mujaddara with cabbage, Rawan’s all-time favorite. It reminds her of the time when she and Rani spent the summer with their grandma when their parents went on holiday.

  I used to love staying at grandma’s, but I would miss my parents too much and wished they would hurry up and come back. Now they’re both in Lebanon and I’m far away from both of them, which is exactly what I want right now. Seeing them stresses me out, and their cold war is upsetting.

  That day, Rawan heads home to pick up her clothes and some other stuff. She throws her parents and her brother a quick “hi.” Her brother jokes, “You’ve become a guest here, Mademoiselle Rawan, only coming to get your stuff, I see. We’ve missed you, hav
en’t you missed us?” In a soft voice, avoiding their eyes, she answers, “It’s not like that. I’ve missed you guys, too, but I’m more comfortable at Grandma’s, and she needs someone to keep her entertained. I’ve decided to stay there until the end of the break. I’ve got a lot of homework, you know, and the atmosphere there is better for studying.” Her parents exchange looks. “Whatever you want habibti, tell Grandma I say hi,” her mother says.

  Before leaving the house, Rawan checks her email. She reads Ghady’s letter and responds.

  Tuesday, December 30, 2008

  Dear Ghady,

  Hello, my friend. I’ve only just read your email because I’ve been spending most of my time at my grandma’s, and she doesn’t have internet. I have more fun at her place. I discovered that, right now, I really need someone as kind and soft as she is with me. I feel so much better with her. Of course, I haven’t told her anything, because I don’t want to worry her. In a few days, my holiday will be over, and I’ll have to go home, even though that is the last thing I want. I can’t explain this feeling that gets under my skin.

  I’m so happy that you had a great time in Seville with your family. Ghady, I hope you have a great year, full of joy and melodies . . .

  I’ll be waiting for your reply.

  Best wishes,

  Rawan

  EVEN MATTHIAS?

  GHADY DOESN’T GO see Michael on the first day back, as he’s been ordered. Most of the time, he stays with his friends and avoids being alone on the playground. The school day passes all right . . . until it’s time to go home. Ghady walks to the school’s front gate to meet his mom, who’s coming from work as usual. But before he gets to her car, he sees Michael. It seems like Michael has been watching him.

  Michael walks up and pushes his face right up against Ghady’s. “Tomorrow. That’s your last chance to bring the 20 euros. Don’t be stubborn. It doesn’t make any sense to resist—well, except you seem to be the type who likes problems. Your friend Matthias is smarter than you are. He brought the money today and we gave him . . . you know what. Ha.”