Sorry guys, I know you're expecting a YotL post, but I had to clear my head. This post is a *very* special dedication to my uncle, Bu A7mad, who'd won a tough fight with cancer. It is a joy to have you back home, healthy and safe, and you make my heart swell with pride. Allah yisalmik oo ya7meek min kil shar inshallah. We all love you :*
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Her rich boisterous laughter filled the air of our dim dining room, and I watched from the doorway as her grandeur captivated every single guest sitting at the table. The flickering candlelight skittered from stone to stone of her giant crystal peacock brooch – the one I had brought her for Christmas. Today, it is her birthday; my big, beautiful Etta is turning 48.
Holding a bottle of Pinot Grigio in my brown leathery hands, I took in the sight of her radiant mahogany skin, with her cheeks so round and full of joy, and her almond shaped eyes that twinkled, outshining the glow of the candles. My Etta is turning 48, but she doesn’t look a day over 29. She says it’s because of the cocoa butter she applies so delicately onto her face every night before we go to sleep, but I say it’s because of the laughter that never ceases to escape her raspberry-stained lips.
I love the way her bosom heaved up and down with every sweet breath she took. I love the way she daintily dabbed at the moisture that accumulated on her neck every Sunday at church, when the churchgoers would heat up the pews with every “Amen!” and “Praise the Lord!”. I love the way she hovered over pots and pans everyday at noon; I’d find her sashaying in the kitchen as if it were a model’s catwalk, slicing the bright orange carrots and stirring the thick brown gravy. Even today, her birthday, she’d managed to wake up at 7 AM without hitting the snooze button on our rickety alarm clock. I’d watched from bed, pretending to be asleep as she slipped into her favorite maroon dress; the one with the satin ribbon at the hem. She applied her make-up ever so carefully, and I fought the urge to spring up from bed and yell at her to stop – she didn’t need all that chemically infested make-up; she was beautiful just the way the Lord had created her. She spoke out loud, even though she knew I probably wouldn’t have heard her – she told me she was going to the beauty salon. Again, I had to stop myself from bolting upright and telling her not to go – she didn’t need all of those hot irons and chemical relaxers; I loved every kink in her hair just the way it was.
By the time I’d come back from the liquor store with the bottles of wine for her birthday dinner, I saw that she’d beat me to the cooking. There she was again, craning her neck over the hissing pots and pans, careful not to let the piping hot steam ruin her immaculate hairdo. I’d noticed that her nails were also done; they were pressed with blood red acrylics that I’d normally detest, but today, they looked like candy attached to her fingers. I’d kissed her hands and the nape of her neck, and she flirtatiously shooed me away, telling me that I’d have my share later on tonight.
Etta was, indeed, a one woman show. When our guests had arrived, the dining room lights were dimmed to perfection, making even the ugliest beast look like a fawn. The flame of the long ivory candles swayed from side to side along with the Jazz classics that were playing from our makeshift surround sound system. The table was set with our best china and Etta’s prized silverware. From the scent that was wafting from every steaming plate, I had known that Etta had once again outdone herself; Maple-roasted chicken with Creole spices, a seafood and sausage Jambalaya that would put the French Quarters to shame, and an endless array of sides including my favorite, buttered baby peas. Plates were laden with roasted new potatoes, sweet corn on the cob, succulent butter biscuits, and mouthwatering coleslaw. No, Jane Fonda was not a guest at this dinner, but Etta always told me that if the food doesn’t warm your heart, then it is not food at all.
Marion held up her fluted champagne glass to toast Etta’s 48 years of life, and it was then I realized that I had been standing in the doorway for too long. I quickly walked past the countless heads of glossy curls, tight braids, and nappy cuts until I reached the empty chair that was right beside my Etta’s.
I sat down and raised my glass as well, looking at my shining star with all the endearment my eyes could muster. Forty-eight years of life, my dear Etta, and we’ve only been married for two. Forty-eight years of life, and not a worry in the world has defaced your joyous demeanor. Forty-eight years of life, and you’re still as graceful as a hummingbird flittering in the warm sunshine of the South. You make life seem so effortless; not a single gray hair has sprouted in your lovely mass of curls. Never once have you complained about the Southern heat, and never once have you complained about the fatigue you’d felt after you’d collapsed in the living room.
Today is your birthday, my dear Etta, and tomorrow is your first chemotherapy session. I know you are not afraid to lose all of that beautiful hair, and I know you’re not afraid of losing weight and having your life drained of color and joy. In fact, your battle with life will probably be harder for me than it will be for you, just because I know that’s the way you are.
Today, you are enjoying your birthday to it’s fullest degree, because in your heart of hearts you are aware that this may be your last. Your friends don’t know about your sickness, because you don’t want anyone to worry – I’m lucky you didn’t keep something so serious from me as well. But that’s the way you are, my dear Etta. You’ve never stopped living, never stopped listening, and never stopped loving.
Today, I am by your side, holding your hand and feeding you a spoonful of your heavenly spicy creations. Tomorrow, I’ll be by your side, holding your hand and nourishing you with my love and energy. But always remember that even though I’m gone, the Lord is by our side no matter where we are.
I smile at you, and though I know that deep inside you are petrified, you still smile back. This is how I know that you will overcome. Happy birthday, my dearest Etta. May you live a thousand lives for the next hundred years to come.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Year Of The Lover (Pt. 30)
Congratulations Mr. President and the rest of the Obama family, and of course Mr. Biden and his family. You all are truly a joy, and I wish you all the best. Oh-bama Oh-nine! :) Make it happen!
____________________________________________________________________
The purr of the engine became softer as Wahab slowed down along the curvy roads. Fajer had no clear idea of where they were; she had been reclined in her seat for as long as she could remember, and all she could see where the giant raindrops accumulating on the pristine windshield. She’d counted them as they fell, but began to lose count when more than one fell at a time. Wahab drove steadily, still rocking his plastic eye patch, and babbled to Fajer about the never-ending details of his fun-filled childhood.
“We9alna,” Wahab said with a big sigh, smiling broadly at the blue-grey sky.
“Wain?” Fajer asked as she pushed her self up in her seat, but before Wahab could reply, the familiar scent of the pungent sea filled her nostrils.
“Back to where we started,” Wahab replied, parking the jeep at the foot of the shore.
Fajer peered out of the window, rather amused at the buccaneer theme that was being carried throughout this date of theirs. “Are you even allowed to park on the shore bes chithee?”
“Min gal la2?” Wahab asked rhetorically. “Yalla nizlay.”
“It’s raining, Wahaboo! I’m gonna get filthy!” Fajer cried, her hand unsurely grabbing the door handle.
“Laish baitkum ma fee shower?” Wahab laughed as he got out of the car. He made his way around the car and flung the passenger door open dramatically. “After you,” he gestured with a smile.
Unable to think of a slick comeback to shut down Wahab’s shower remark, she decided to give in, and she slipped her hand into his as she hopped out of the Lexus jeep. Her Uggs landed atop the wet sand, and she carefully trudged along Wahab’s side in hopes that she wouldn’t get her favorite boots dirty. A gust of wind swirled around them, but for the first time that winter, it felt pleasant and refreshing against their skin. The only thing that irked Fajer was the raindrops that stingingly slapped against her forehead and left dark brown dots and dashes on her sweater dress. “Where are we going?”
“Al7een tshoofeen,” Wahab squeezed her hand gently. They continued walking for a few more minutes, chattering about the unique design styles of every chalet they passed. After a seemingly long walk, they stopped in front of Mbarak’s chalet. “We’re here.”
Confused, Fajer looked at Wahab with questioning eyes, wondering why they were at Mbarak’s chalet. As if he read her mind, Wahab told her they’d be having a light lunch together.
“Are you cooking?” Fajer inquired, excited at the thought of a man in the kitchen.
“Ha! You wish,” Wahab laughed, leaving Fajer disappointed, “I can’t cook to save my life.”
“Ahaaa,” Fajer sang, “3ayal mino bye6ba5?” She took a seat on the plastic white deck chair, even though it was dirty with crusty muddy spots.
“The 7ares already has lunch prepared,” Wahab elucidated with a shy smile, “I hope you like chicken nuggets.”
“Allaaaaaah!” Fajer cried as Wahab sat next to her, “Nothing like home-style chicken nuggets. I feel like I’m four years old again.”
“I know, 9a7? 7ita ana,” Wahab grinned as he placed his hand into hers, “I know it sounds cheesy, bes I always feel like a baby when I’m with you.”
“Why is that?” Fajer asked, trying not to laugh at his lame remark.
“Madri,” he sighed as he stared out at the shallow shore. The tide was washing out, and tiny rushing waves came rolling to the shore. In the near distance, Wahab could see that the small sandy islands had already formed in front of most of the chalets. A chill made its way down his spine as he took a deep breath, taking in the gloomy weather and sad sea into his large doe-like eyes. “You’re the only person I can be myself around.”
“Aww,” Fajer cooed, resting her head against his burly shoulder. She could feel the hard plastic of her eye-patch uncomfortably digging into the skin around her eye. “You can always be you with me.”
Wahab chuckled, “Walla innich silly.”
“Hey!” Fajer lightly smacked his arm, “Itha ana silly, inta ubo ilsilly.”
“Ya 7ilwich,” Wahab smiled as he tipped his head to the side, resting it against the crown of Fajer’s head. He pulled out his mobile and dialed the 7ares’s number, letting him know that they were on the deck and ready for lunch. Once given the green light, Wahab excused himself and went inside to get the lunch. He came out shortly after, carrying a tray laden with two heaping platefuls of golden chicken nuggets and French fries, a squeezable bottle of ketchup, and two glass bottles of Diet Coke.
“Yummm,” Fajer beamed as Wahab set the plate before her. He reached for the squeeze bottle of ketchup and proceeded to draw a heart and a smiley face on the edge of Fajer’s plate.
“Bil3afya,” he smiled as the ketchup sputtered onto his plate.
“Yi3afeek,” Fajer replied, and shamelessly tucked into her meal. The chicken nugget was piping hot and tender, just the way she liked them. The comforting taste of fried home-style nuggets danced on her tongue, and the French fries were no exception. Fajer couldn’t live without potatoes, and nothing made her stomach roll over in delight than a plateful of home-made thick cut fries; “Bu6a6 Mary”, as she called it. “You have no idea what this reminds me of.”
“Tell me,” Wahab wrinkled his nose in between bites, scooping the ketchup onto the chicken nugget wedge.
“Do you remember ayam gabil when we’d eat something like this for dinner? Watching TV, or watching a movie?” Wahab nodded with a nostalgic smile creeping across his lips. “Kint atraba3 3al arth oo yi7i6oon il9eeniya jidami and this is exactly what I’d eat almost every night.”
“Me too!” Wahab exclaimed, “Bes add three brothers and a fight over the ketchup.” Fajer burst out laughing, almost choking on the icy fizz of her drink. “I’m serious!” Wahab continued, taking a long swig of his Diet Coke. “But then, everything changed. One by one kberaw oo tezawejaw oo yabaw 3yal, and soon enough I was the only one left eating chips and nuggets. But now it doesn’t really matter because I’m eating them with you.”
“Wahaaaaab!” Fajer smiled half-heartedly, “I’ll be here for as long as God says so.” The way he’d spoken so quickly about how his brothers left the bird nest and left him behind made Fajer want to hug him so badly. She felt his pain for she was an only child herself, but she decided she’d had it easy because she never had to deal with anyone leaving her to grow up alone; she was all by herself. Fajer picked up a fat French fry and dragged it along the edges of her ketchup heart, and when it was satisfactorily doused in ketchup, she brought it to Wahab’s lips and fed it to him. “Do you ever think about getting married?”
“I’d love to,” Wahab sighed listlessly, “Bes lazim a5ale9 dirasti – there’s no way in hell I can think about getting married without graduating.”
“Oh,” Fajer’s eyes were downcast. Her only reason for her strong wish to get married was the fact that she’d have someone, a male, there for her always. Though the thought of not being with Jawhara all day everyday put her off, there was nothing she wanted more than to wake up every morning to the man of her dreams and have her own family. Often, Fajer promised herself that she’d never leave her child to be an only child. Just fantasizing about the years ahead made her heart heavy with joy.
“Do you?” Wahab interrupted the massive grey cloud of Fajer’s thoughts.
“Do I what?” Fajer turned to look at him. His deep brown eyes twinkled, as if they were talking to her all on their own.
“Want to get married,” Wahab finished his question.
“I don’t know,” Fajer lied, “I’ll have to think about it.” Fajer felt like if she told Wahab about her dreams of marriage, she’d scare him away like she did her ex. ‘Mafgoorat zawaj’, he’d called her, even though Fajer was never incessant about the subject. 6alal just had his own way of seeing things; he made Fajer feel like everything she did for him was just another stepping stone to the kosha.
“Oh,” Wahab took a deep breath and crunched on his last French fry. “Well, think about it. I don’t think marriage is all that bad.”
“That’s a first,” Fajer raised an eyebrow, “Kuwaiti guys totally repel marriage.”
“I’m not your average Kuwaiti guy,” Wahab retorted with a wicked grin.
“I noticed,” Fajer pointed to his eye-patch. She flipped hers up and pulled out her compact mirror from her purse to check on the healing progress of her eye. “Not bad, huh?”
Wahab inched closed and examined her eye. “Not bad at all,” and with a swift motion that Fajer had no chance to dodge, he planted a long soft kiss on her cheek, dangerously close to her mouth. Fajer’s insides liquefied and she closed her eyes in utter appreciation, letting her pores soak in the moist sensation of Wahab’s lips against her skin.
“3indi so2al,” Fajer asked quietly as soon as Wahab’s lips broke free from her cheek.
“Si2lay,” Wahab sighed with the most loving look in his eyes. He ran his fingers along Fajer’s hair and stared intently at her unblemished face, waiting for her to speak again.
“Laish sefa6na a5er ildinya dam inni bniyi chalet Mbarak?”
Wahab boyishly shrugged his shoulders and cleared his throat. “I like walking with you.”
After they’d cleared off the table, Wahab and Fajer trudged in the clumpy sand, walking hand in hand and collecting the beautiful seashells and sand dollars that the tide had foolishly left behind.
Jawhara watched quietly as the raindrops splotched against her windowpane. It had been a long boring afternoon for her; Mbarak was still asleep and Fajer hadn’t texted all day, so she was basically sitting alone at home, watching Jeopardy on MBC 4. “Carrie & Mr. Big took a romantic carriage ride in Central Park in the "I Heart NY" episode of this show,” Alex Trebek read the clue off the giant blue screen.
“What is Sex and the City!” Jawhara called out, clapping to herself when she’d gotten the correct answer. Her phone rang; it was Mbarak. Beaming, she picked up the phone and greeted him.
“Hala bil’3alya,” Mbarak growled. Jawhara could hear his throat squeaking as he stretched his arm high above his head.
“Hala feek, 7abeebi. 9a7 ilnoom,” Jawhara replied as she muted the television set.
“9a7 ibdenich, 7ayati. Wainich?” Mbarak spoke, his voice muzzy with sleep.
“Waini ba3ad; at home,” Jawhara sighed, “Baby, I’m so bored!”
“Killina bored, mamati,” Mbarak laughed and tucked his arm behind his head, sinking back into his warm pillow. “Laish, wain rifeejtich?”
“Rifeejti, Allah yisalmik, bag’ha rifeejik,” Jawhara pouted playfully, as if Mbarak could see her.
A loud bubbly laugh escaped his lips. “Intay mal bog, walla. Mal a56efich.”
“Huh?” Jawhara stiffened up at what she had heard, wanting to hear it again to clarify. “What did you say?”
“Agool mal a56efich,” Mbarak repeated.
“Oh! Ta56efni!” Jawhara laughed nervously. “7alalik, yuba, e56efni; erbe6ni oo 7e6ni ibdabbitik oo take me wherever you want.”
“What did you think I said?” Mbarak smiled devilishly, ignoring Jawhara’s comment. He knew the answer very well but wanted to hear it from Jawhara.
“Nothing,” she lied, feeling her face get extremely hot. “The connection was just a little fuzzy.”
“Ah ok,” Mbarak chuckled knowingly. “Inzain sh3indich ba3ad shway?”
“Ma 3indi shay ilyoom,” Jawhara replied almost immediately, desperately wanting to change the subject. “I’m free, free, free.”
“Inzain ya free, abi ashoofich illaila,” Mbarak said huskily.
Butterflies filled Jawhara’s stomach and she excitedly accepted. “Wain binroo7?”
“Madri,” Mbarak smiled, “Wherever the wind blows.”
“Tara mu6ar barra,” Jawhara warned, as if Mbarak had no idea.
“Ee, adri; ga3d asma3a,” Mbarak closed his eyes blissfully and imagined standing underneath the pouring rain with Jawhara.
“Ee, fa ya3ni no outdoor activities,” Jawhara wiggled her eyebrows and her lips pressed to form a smile.
“5air inshalla,” Mbarak put aside her request and began planning their evening in his head.
“Min 9ijji; mabi astamreth!” Jawhara giggled.
”Inzain, inzain,” Mbarak laughed, turning onto his side. His warm blanket enveloped his bare shoulders and he relished the comfort that only his bed brings. His blanket, though a few years old and tattered in some places, was the warmest blanket he’d ever owned, and though his mother nagged him relentlessly to go out and shop for a new one, he never did in fear of missing the cozy warmth of this blanket.
“Yalla, goom,” Jawhara ordered playfully, “5yas noom.”
“Intay 5yas noom!” Mbarak laughed. “3indi so2al.”
“Tefa’6al,” Jawhara smiled, tucking her feet under her thick duvet.
“Dam fa’6lich,” he replied politely, and Jawhara positively beamed at his chivalry. “Lo gimtay min ilnoom oo ligaiteeni ibwayhich, shitsaween?”
“Hmmmm,” Jawhara murmured, thinking of a decent response. “Alimik waboosik 3ala rasik.”
“Tbooseeni with your morning breath?” Mbarak chuckled loudly.
“Waaaaiii3, Mbarak,” Jawhara frowned, “You just killed it, zaiiin?”
“At’3ashmar, 7abeebti,” Mbarak smiled, breathing loudly into the phone. “Shakli banam for another hour or so. Tga3deeni?”
“7abeebi, it’s almost 2 PM. Goom; 7aram ana broo7i,” Jawhara whined, curling and uncurling her pedicured toes.
“Sa3a; please, Joojti,” Mbarak pleaded, already closing his eyes, “Tga3deeni wala la2?”
“Aga3dik,” Jawhara finally gave in, feeling a ting of disappointment at the thought of spending another hour alone.
“Mashkooooora,” Mbarak thanked her and blew her a quick kiss.
“Noom il3awafi,” Jawhara chimed before saying their goodbyes and hanging up. She quickly set her mobile alarm for 3 PM, just in case she forgot.
Jawhara watched the Final Jeopardy clue take up the whole screen as she read aloud the words, un-muting the TV. The category was Musical Theater, and Jawhara was in luck because there’s nothing more she loved than watching musicals. “It opens with a widow & her son arriving by boat from Singapore to accept a job that pays 20 pounds a month.”
“THE KING AND I!” Jawhara shouted, and began belting out “Getting To Know You”, her favorite song from the show.
“Sh’hal ez3aj??” Jawhara could hear her mother’s muffled voice calling from down the hall.
“Sorry, Mama!” she called back, trying to calm her excited nerves.
Just as Alex Trebek was about to reveal the final answers, Jawhara’s phone rang. A strange number flashed on the screen, and Jawhara contemplated answering it in fear of it being A7med. She never answered strange numbers, but for some reason, she went ahead and did. A familiar girl’s voice filled the other end of the line.
“Mino ma3ay?” Jawhara inquired, trying to figure out who’s voice it was.
“Ma 3erafteeni?” the girl asked nervously, feeling a bit of regret for making the phone call in the first place.
“La walla, e5ti, asfa,” Jawhara bunched her lips together, waiting for an indication.
“Wiyach Reem,” she said, taking a deep breath.
____________________________________________________________________
The purr of the engine became softer as Wahab slowed down along the curvy roads. Fajer had no clear idea of where they were; she had been reclined in her seat for as long as she could remember, and all she could see where the giant raindrops accumulating on the pristine windshield. She’d counted them as they fell, but began to lose count when more than one fell at a time. Wahab drove steadily, still rocking his plastic eye patch, and babbled to Fajer about the never-ending details of his fun-filled childhood.
“We9alna,” Wahab said with a big sigh, smiling broadly at the blue-grey sky.
“Wain?” Fajer asked as she pushed her self up in her seat, but before Wahab could reply, the familiar scent of the pungent sea filled her nostrils.
“Back to where we started,” Wahab replied, parking the jeep at the foot of the shore.
Fajer peered out of the window, rather amused at the buccaneer theme that was being carried throughout this date of theirs. “Are you even allowed to park on the shore bes chithee?”
“Min gal la2?” Wahab asked rhetorically. “Yalla nizlay.”
“It’s raining, Wahaboo! I’m gonna get filthy!” Fajer cried, her hand unsurely grabbing the door handle.
“Laish baitkum ma fee shower?” Wahab laughed as he got out of the car. He made his way around the car and flung the passenger door open dramatically. “After you,” he gestured with a smile.
Unable to think of a slick comeback to shut down Wahab’s shower remark, she decided to give in, and she slipped her hand into his as she hopped out of the Lexus jeep. Her Uggs landed atop the wet sand, and she carefully trudged along Wahab’s side in hopes that she wouldn’t get her favorite boots dirty. A gust of wind swirled around them, but for the first time that winter, it felt pleasant and refreshing against their skin. The only thing that irked Fajer was the raindrops that stingingly slapped against her forehead and left dark brown dots and dashes on her sweater dress. “Where are we going?”
“Al7een tshoofeen,” Wahab squeezed her hand gently. They continued walking for a few more minutes, chattering about the unique design styles of every chalet they passed. After a seemingly long walk, they stopped in front of Mbarak’s chalet. “We’re here.”
Confused, Fajer looked at Wahab with questioning eyes, wondering why they were at Mbarak’s chalet. As if he read her mind, Wahab told her they’d be having a light lunch together.
“Are you cooking?” Fajer inquired, excited at the thought of a man in the kitchen.
“Ha! You wish,” Wahab laughed, leaving Fajer disappointed, “I can’t cook to save my life.”
“Ahaaa,” Fajer sang, “3ayal mino bye6ba5?” She took a seat on the plastic white deck chair, even though it was dirty with crusty muddy spots.
“The 7ares already has lunch prepared,” Wahab elucidated with a shy smile, “I hope you like chicken nuggets.”
“Allaaaaaah!” Fajer cried as Wahab sat next to her, “Nothing like home-style chicken nuggets. I feel like I’m four years old again.”
“I know, 9a7? 7ita ana,” Wahab grinned as he placed his hand into hers, “I know it sounds cheesy, bes I always feel like a baby when I’m with you.”
“Why is that?” Fajer asked, trying not to laugh at his lame remark.
“Madri,” he sighed as he stared out at the shallow shore. The tide was washing out, and tiny rushing waves came rolling to the shore. In the near distance, Wahab could see that the small sandy islands had already formed in front of most of the chalets. A chill made its way down his spine as he took a deep breath, taking in the gloomy weather and sad sea into his large doe-like eyes. “You’re the only person I can be myself around.”
“Aww,” Fajer cooed, resting her head against his burly shoulder. She could feel the hard plastic of her eye-patch uncomfortably digging into the skin around her eye. “You can always be you with me.”
Wahab chuckled, “Walla innich silly.”
“Hey!” Fajer lightly smacked his arm, “Itha ana silly, inta ubo ilsilly.”
“Ya 7ilwich,” Wahab smiled as he tipped his head to the side, resting it against the crown of Fajer’s head. He pulled out his mobile and dialed the 7ares’s number, letting him know that they were on the deck and ready for lunch. Once given the green light, Wahab excused himself and went inside to get the lunch. He came out shortly after, carrying a tray laden with two heaping platefuls of golden chicken nuggets and French fries, a squeezable bottle of ketchup, and two glass bottles of Diet Coke.
“Yummm,” Fajer beamed as Wahab set the plate before her. He reached for the squeeze bottle of ketchup and proceeded to draw a heart and a smiley face on the edge of Fajer’s plate.
“Bil3afya,” he smiled as the ketchup sputtered onto his plate.
“Yi3afeek,” Fajer replied, and shamelessly tucked into her meal. The chicken nugget was piping hot and tender, just the way she liked them. The comforting taste of fried home-style nuggets danced on her tongue, and the French fries were no exception. Fajer couldn’t live without potatoes, and nothing made her stomach roll over in delight than a plateful of home-made thick cut fries; “Bu6a6 Mary”, as she called it. “You have no idea what this reminds me of.”
“Tell me,” Wahab wrinkled his nose in between bites, scooping the ketchup onto the chicken nugget wedge.
“Do you remember ayam gabil when we’d eat something like this for dinner? Watching TV, or watching a movie?” Wahab nodded with a nostalgic smile creeping across his lips. “Kint atraba3 3al arth oo yi7i6oon il9eeniya jidami and this is exactly what I’d eat almost every night.”
“Me too!” Wahab exclaimed, “Bes add three brothers and a fight over the ketchup.” Fajer burst out laughing, almost choking on the icy fizz of her drink. “I’m serious!” Wahab continued, taking a long swig of his Diet Coke. “But then, everything changed. One by one kberaw oo tezawejaw oo yabaw 3yal, and soon enough I was the only one left eating chips and nuggets. But now it doesn’t really matter because I’m eating them with you.”
“Wahaaaaab!” Fajer smiled half-heartedly, “I’ll be here for as long as God says so.” The way he’d spoken so quickly about how his brothers left the bird nest and left him behind made Fajer want to hug him so badly. She felt his pain for she was an only child herself, but she decided she’d had it easy because she never had to deal with anyone leaving her to grow up alone; she was all by herself. Fajer picked up a fat French fry and dragged it along the edges of her ketchup heart, and when it was satisfactorily doused in ketchup, she brought it to Wahab’s lips and fed it to him. “Do you ever think about getting married?”
“I’d love to,” Wahab sighed listlessly, “Bes lazim a5ale9 dirasti – there’s no way in hell I can think about getting married without graduating.”
“Oh,” Fajer’s eyes were downcast. Her only reason for her strong wish to get married was the fact that she’d have someone, a male, there for her always. Though the thought of not being with Jawhara all day everyday put her off, there was nothing she wanted more than to wake up every morning to the man of her dreams and have her own family. Often, Fajer promised herself that she’d never leave her child to be an only child. Just fantasizing about the years ahead made her heart heavy with joy.
“Do you?” Wahab interrupted the massive grey cloud of Fajer’s thoughts.
“Do I what?” Fajer turned to look at him. His deep brown eyes twinkled, as if they were talking to her all on their own.
“Want to get married,” Wahab finished his question.
“I don’t know,” Fajer lied, “I’ll have to think about it.” Fajer felt like if she told Wahab about her dreams of marriage, she’d scare him away like she did her ex. ‘Mafgoorat zawaj’, he’d called her, even though Fajer was never incessant about the subject. 6alal just had his own way of seeing things; he made Fajer feel like everything she did for him was just another stepping stone to the kosha.
“Oh,” Wahab took a deep breath and crunched on his last French fry. “Well, think about it. I don’t think marriage is all that bad.”
“That’s a first,” Fajer raised an eyebrow, “Kuwaiti guys totally repel marriage.”
“I’m not your average Kuwaiti guy,” Wahab retorted with a wicked grin.
“I noticed,” Fajer pointed to his eye-patch. She flipped hers up and pulled out her compact mirror from her purse to check on the healing progress of her eye. “Not bad, huh?”
Wahab inched closed and examined her eye. “Not bad at all,” and with a swift motion that Fajer had no chance to dodge, he planted a long soft kiss on her cheek, dangerously close to her mouth. Fajer’s insides liquefied and she closed her eyes in utter appreciation, letting her pores soak in the moist sensation of Wahab’s lips against her skin.
“3indi so2al,” Fajer asked quietly as soon as Wahab’s lips broke free from her cheek.
“Si2lay,” Wahab sighed with the most loving look in his eyes. He ran his fingers along Fajer’s hair and stared intently at her unblemished face, waiting for her to speak again.
“Laish sefa6na a5er ildinya dam inni bniyi chalet Mbarak?”
Wahab boyishly shrugged his shoulders and cleared his throat. “I like walking with you.”
After they’d cleared off the table, Wahab and Fajer trudged in the clumpy sand, walking hand in hand and collecting the beautiful seashells and sand dollars that the tide had foolishly left behind.
Jawhara watched quietly as the raindrops splotched against her windowpane. It had been a long boring afternoon for her; Mbarak was still asleep and Fajer hadn’t texted all day, so she was basically sitting alone at home, watching Jeopardy on MBC 4. “Carrie & Mr. Big took a romantic carriage ride in Central Park in the "I Heart NY" episode of this show,” Alex Trebek read the clue off the giant blue screen.
“What is Sex and the City!” Jawhara called out, clapping to herself when she’d gotten the correct answer. Her phone rang; it was Mbarak. Beaming, she picked up the phone and greeted him.
“Hala bil’3alya,” Mbarak growled. Jawhara could hear his throat squeaking as he stretched his arm high above his head.
“Hala feek, 7abeebi. 9a7 ilnoom,” Jawhara replied as she muted the television set.
“9a7 ibdenich, 7ayati. Wainich?” Mbarak spoke, his voice muzzy with sleep.
“Waini ba3ad; at home,” Jawhara sighed, “Baby, I’m so bored!”
“Killina bored, mamati,” Mbarak laughed and tucked his arm behind his head, sinking back into his warm pillow. “Laish, wain rifeejtich?”
“Rifeejti, Allah yisalmik, bag’ha rifeejik,” Jawhara pouted playfully, as if Mbarak could see her.
A loud bubbly laugh escaped his lips. “Intay mal bog, walla. Mal a56efich.”
“Huh?” Jawhara stiffened up at what she had heard, wanting to hear it again to clarify. “What did you say?”
“Agool mal a56efich,” Mbarak repeated.
“Oh! Ta56efni!” Jawhara laughed nervously. “7alalik, yuba, e56efni; erbe6ni oo 7e6ni ibdabbitik oo take me wherever you want.”
“What did you think I said?” Mbarak smiled devilishly, ignoring Jawhara’s comment. He knew the answer very well but wanted to hear it from Jawhara.
“Nothing,” she lied, feeling her face get extremely hot. “The connection was just a little fuzzy.”
“Ah ok,” Mbarak chuckled knowingly. “Inzain sh3indich ba3ad shway?”
“Ma 3indi shay ilyoom,” Jawhara replied almost immediately, desperately wanting to change the subject. “I’m free, free, free.”
“Inzain ya free, abi ashoofich illaila,” Mbarak said huskily.
Butterflies filled Jawhara’s stomach and she excitedly accepted. “Wain binroo7?”
“Madri,” Mbarak smiled, “Wherever the wind blows.”
“Tara mu6ar barra,” Jawhara warned, as if Mbarak had no idea.
“Ee, adri; ga3d asma3a,” Mbarak closed his eyes blissfully and imagined standing underneath the pouring rain with Jawhara.
“Ee, fa ya3ni no outdoor activities,” Jawhara wiggled her eyebrows and her lips pressed to form a smile.
“5air inshalla,” Mbarak put aside her request and began planning their evening in his head.
“Min 9ijji; mabi astamreth!” Jawhara giggled.
”Inzain, inzain,” Mbarak laughed, turning onto his side. His warm blanket enveloped his bare shoulders and he relished the comfort that only his bed brings. His blanket, though a few years old and tattered in some places, was the warmest blanket he’d ever owned, and though his mother nagged him relentlessly to go out and shop for a new one, he never did in fear of missing the cozy warmth of this blanket.
“Yalla, goom,” Jawhara ordered playfully, “5yas noom.”
“Intay 5yas noom!” Mbarak laughed. “3indi so2al.”
“Tefa’6al,” Jawhara smiled, tucking her feet under her thick duvet.
“Dam fa’6lich,” he replied politely, and Jawhara positively beamed at his chivalry. “Lo gimtay min ilnoom oo ligaiteeni ibwayhich, shitsaween?”
“Hmmmm,” Jawhara murmured, thinking of a decent response. “Alimik waboosik 3ala rasik.”
“Tbooseeni with your morning breath?” Mbarak chuckled loudly.
“Waaaaiii3, Mbarak,” Jawhara frowned, “You just killed it, zaiiin?”
“At’3ashmar, 7abeebti,” Mbarak smiled, breathing loudly into the phone. “Shakli banam for another hour or so. Tga3deeni?”
“7abeebi, it’s almost 2 PM. Goom; 7aram ana broo7i,” Jawhara whined, curling and uncurling her pedicured toes.
“Sa3a; please, Joojti,” Mbarak pleaded, already closing his eyes, “Tga3deeni wala la2?”
“Aga3dik,” Jawhara finally gave in, feeling a ting of disappointment at the thought of spending another hour alone.
“Mashkooooora,” Mbarak thanked her and blew her a quick kiss.
“Noom il3awafi,” Jawhara chimed before saying their goodbyes and hanging up. She quickly set her mobile alarm for 3 PM, just in case she forgot.
Jawhara watched the Final Jeopardy clue take up the whole screen as she read aloud the words, un-muting the TV. The category was Musical Theater, and Jawhara was in luck because there’s nothing more she loved than watching musicals. “It opens with a widow & her son arriving by boat from Singapore to accept a job that pays 20 pounds a month.”
“THE KING AND I!” Jawhara shouted, and began belting out “Getting To Know You”, her favorite song from the show.
“Sh’hal ez3aj??” Jawhara could hear her mother’s muffled voice calling from down the hall.
“Sorry, Mama!” she called back, trying to calm her excited nerves.
Just as Alex Trebek was about to reveal the final answers, Jawhara’s phone rang. A strange number flashed on the screen, and Jawhara contemplated answering it in fear of it being A7med. She never answered strange numbers, but for some reason, she went ahead and did. A familiar girl’s voice filled the other end of the line.
“Mino ma3ay?” Jawhara inquired, trying to figure out who’s voice it was.
“Ma 3erafteeni?” the girl asked nervously, feeling a bit of regret for making the phone call in the first place.
“La walla, e5ti, asfa,” Jawhara bunched her lips together, waiting for an indication.
“Wiyach Reem,” she said, taking a deep breath.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Year Of The Lover (Pt. 29)
Hey all.. Sorry for the posting delay bes I’ve had a REEEALLLLY long week. My sister was visiting and I haven’t seen her in months, so I was with her. Also I was helping out a few friends with their finals and tutoring! So please forgive me ;* Hope you had a more relaxing week than I did! I tried to make this post extra long.. Hehehe a7ibkum!
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Fajer woke up startled to the sound of her phone ringing loudly in her ear. She could’ve sworn she’d left it on her dresser table before she went to sleep; her father was always warning her about the dangers of leaving her phone on her bed while she was asleep. The soft ringtone of M7amed 3abdu singing along to his 3ood wafted into her ears: "Da3ani Il-Shooooog Yal-'3ali Wana Min Il-Wajd Labaiiitah! Magdar 3ala Il-Bu3d.. 3ezzah Li! Ya 3ezzaaaah Li! Galbi Te3athab Oo 3annaitah, Da3ani Il-Shooooog!"
“Hala Wahabi,” she mumbled into the phone.
“9ba7 il5air, Joora,” Wahab smiled as he started the engine of his car. “Goomay.”
“9ba7 inoor,” Fajer replied, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Laish, shfeek?”
“Ma feeni shay; raye7 iljam3a now emti7ani ilyoom,” Wahab said nervously, fumbling with the gear. He glanced to his right to make sure that all of his papers and pens were with him before reversing out onto the streets of 3dailiya.
“Oh 9aaa7!” Fajer sat up in her bed, hugging her sheets around her chest. A cold draft was coming in from somewhere and it had been tickling her all night, but it was even worse in the morning after she’d been warmed from head to toe. “Good luck, sweety,” she smiled, turning on her bedside lamp. The sudden brightness of the lamp blinded Fajer, and she squinted, feeling the sleep make it’s way back into her eyes.
“Thanks, Fajoorti,” Wahab grinned. “Adiglich ana awal ma a5ale9. OK? Be ready at 12.”
“Ready for what?” Fajer inquired, curious to know what Wahab had up his sleeve.
“Malich shi’3il, be ready oo 5ala9,” Wahab smiled slyly as he made his way through the dense morning traffic.
“Inzain shloon iljaw barra?” she asked, so she’d know what to wear for whatever it is they were going to do.
“Bard. Libsay 3adil,” he warned, looking at the cold fog accumulate on his windshield.
“Zain,” she nodded, staring at her closet as if she had X-ray eyesight and trying to envision what her outfit would look like. As soon as they hung up, Fajer remembered Jawhara. She held down the number 3 on her keypad and watched as her phone automatically speed-dialed Jawhara’s number. “Jojo,” she spoke into the phone.
“Mmm,” Jawhara rolled over and buried her face into her satiny pillow.
“Sh9ar 3alaich?” Fajer asked, remember how hard her friend was crying the night before.
Jawhara’s eyes fluttered open, letting her mind absorb and consume the events of last night, even though they felt blurry to her. “Madri,” Jawhara replied honestly, “Mbarak dag oo I told him about what happened, and then he closed the phone in my face and we spoke again after an hour oo he told me he took care of everything, whatever that means.”
“Jawhara!” Fajer slapped her hand against her knee for emphasis, “Ana cham marra agoollich don’t tell the guy everything?! Shfeech? Shako tgooleela?!” She fumed with anger at the thought of another guy taking advantage of Jawhara because of how easily she trusted them.
“What was I supposed to do, Fajoor? Dag 3alay oo ma gidart amsik ilbachya oo I just told him what happened!” Jawhara replied defensively.
“Still; make up anything! Tell him you got your period oo ba6nich yi3awrich! Tell him anything! Al7een shoofay what kind of problem bit9eer.”
“There won’t be any problems, Fajer,” Jawhara said quietly. Even though Jawhara knew Fajer wanted what was best for her, she couldn’t help but feel belittled everytime Fajer lectured her.
“I sure as hell hope not,” Fajer snapped, shaking her head. She kicked off her bed covers and slipped her cold feet into her fuzzy pink slippers and shuffled across her bedroom.
“Are you mad?” Jawhara made a face, feeling a little unnerved by the way Fajer reacted.
“I’m not mad,” Fajer sighed, “Jooj, you just need to know how to handle these situations better. Farthan Mbarak sawa 7ag A7med salfa oo it all turned and backfired on you? Then what are you gonna do? Call Mbarak and have him deal with it? Tara Kuwaiti guys may7iboon ilnakad wil3awar ras, babe. You and I know this very very well.”
“I know, but it just came out, ya3ni shasawi?” Jawhara frowned at Fajer’s lecturing. “I don’t think anything bad can happen from here. 5ala9, 6af.”
“Yeah,” Fajer mumbled and tried to lighten up the mood, “Inzain, apparently I have a surprise date with Wahab at 12.”
“Really?” Jawhara smiled for the first time that morning, “Do you know what you want to wear? Or do you want me to come over?”
Fajer smiled to herself; even though she’d just lashed out at Jawhara, Jawhara saw past it and was considerate enough to offer her help. “That would be nice. Ta3alay!”
“10 minutes wana 3indich,” Jawhara grinned and hung up. She picked out a white velour training suit which she matched up with a long-sleeve Kelly green undershirt and diamond clustered studs. Quickly washing her face and slipping everything on, she swung her door open and bounced down the stairs to find her mother sitting on the plush couch, quietly drumming her fingers on the armrest.
“9ba7 il5air, Mama,” Jawhara kissed the crown of her mother’s head and was about to turn around and head out the door when her mother stopped her.
“Wain ray7a?” Jawhara’s mother asked frostily.
“Fajer’s,” Jawhara replied, sensing her mother’s dry tone-of-voice. Nothing made her heart ache more than seeing her mother upset. “Shfeech, Mama?”
“Ta3alay, bakalmich shway,” her mother ordered, and Jawhara slowly turned around and walked back to the couch where her mother sat. She stared blankly at her mother and waited to hear what she had to say. “Gi3day, shfeech wagfa?”
Jawhara sat down next to her mother, concerned. “Shfeech, Mama?” Her heart beat rapidly in her ribcage, expecting to hear the worst.
After a long moment of silence her mother finally turned to her and said, “Mumkin tgooleeli bithab6 shino 9ar barra ilbeit ams?”
Jawhara fidgeted in her seat and huffed, not knowing how to explain the A7med situation to her mother. Her mother had never liked A7med; ever since Jawhara had started dating him, her mother kept a close watch on everything Jawhara did and saw how often her daughter was unhappy. Every time Jawhara was crying or didn’t feel like eating, her mother knew instantly that A7med was the cause, even when Jawhara would deny it continuously. Jawhara’s mother threatened time and time again to call A7med’s mother and inform her of the bad job she was doing at raising her son, but she knew she’d lose Jawhara’s trust if she ever did anything of the sort.
“Bitgooleeli wala la2? A7med shyayba 3ind beitna?” Jawhara’s mother repeated, her lips forming a tight line across her face.
Jawhara couldn’t help but lower her head at her mother’s disapproval. ‘It’s not like I told him to come,’ she felt like saying, but she knew better than to explain herself that way. Jawhara began slowly by telling her mother about the study group incident and how A7med was continuously staring and making her feel uncomfortable, and how she’d come home to find him waiting outside in the street. Jawhara’s mother huffed and puffed after every sentence her daughter spoke, furious at A7med’s nerve and the way Jawhara had reacted to the situation. “Mama, you should’ve called me,” her mother shook her head.
“Mom, adiglich and say what? That my crazy ex is outside the house threatening me?” Jawhara asked incredulously.
“Yes! Exactly that!” her mother’s eyes widened.
“Mama..,” Jawhara began, “I was already shocked oo scared. Shloon badiglich ya3ni?”
Jawhara’s mother dismissed her pathetic explanation and tutted, “Still, mali shi’3il.”
Jawhara sat quietly with her hands clasped between her knees, not knowing whether to sit around and twiddle her thumbs or to admit defeat and apologize so she could make her way to Fajer’s house. All she knew was that she couldn’t look her mother in the eye.
Jawhara’s heart panged with guilt for not confiding in her mother – when her father was alive, she’d found it easier to talk to her mother about the good and the bad because she knew she would probably get scolded by her father. But since her father passed away, Jawhara’s mother had turned into a mother and a father, so Jawhara never knew what to expect. “I’m sorry, Mama,” Jawhara murmured, feeling a tickle in her throat.
Jawhara felt her mother’s hand against her back, moving upwards and downwards in a clockwise motion. She never really understood why people did that until now – it really did help a person relax. The tense nerves in her back eased up slowly, sending a delightful tingle up to her shoulders and down to her lower back. “It’s ok, 7abeebti,” her mother smiled. Bes next time if anything like this happens, you tell me.”
Jawhara nodded, turning her head to look at her mother. She kissed her forehead softly hoping for approval, and when she saw her mother smile slightly, her heart swelled with joy. “I love you,” Jawhara said as she rest her head against her mother’s shoulder.
“I love you, too,” her mother replied, running her thin fingers through Jawhara’s wavy tresses.
After a brief moment, Jawhara told her mother she was going to Fajer’s house, excusing herself. She practically ran out the door and into the driver’s seat of her black SUV, ready to start the ignition. She plugged her iPod into the long auxiliary wire and tuned it to her favorite playlist before revving up the engine and making her way to Fajer’s house. The sun’s piercing golden rays made their way through the thick grey clouds, giving hopes that it wouldn’t rain. But as if she’d spoken too soon, a huge solitary raindrop splattered on her windshield as soon as she parked in Fajer’s driveway. As usual, Fajer’s parents weren’t home, so Jawhara ran inside, shielding her wavy locks from any more rain.
“Fajoor?” Jawhara called, her voice echoing against the walls of the high-rise foyer.
“I’m in here,” Fajer’s voice came from the living room. She lay on the massive brown leather couch in her pajamas, her brown curls cascading on her shoulders. The living room was completely dark except for the array of bright light coming from the muted television set.
“Shfeech ga3da bil’6alma?” Jawhara askled, reaching for the light switch.
“No!” Fajer almost shouted. “Dude, don’t turn on the lights. My eye is gonna freak you out.”
“Your eye? Shfeech?” Jawhara giggled. “Didn’t you wash your face this morning?”
“Yessss,” Fajer huffed, hugging her knees towards her chest, “Only to find that a stupid mosquito bit my eyelid!”
“No way!” Jawhara burst out laughing, “This I gotta see!” She turned on the light switch and walked closer to her friend who indeed had a left eyelid so pink and puffy that her eye was nothing but a small slit. Jawhara gasped, trying not to reach out and touch it with her finger.
“Don’t touch it!” Fajer flinched, “It hurts!”
“Quasimodo,” Jawhara joked, “you’re not supposed to be here, with the real people! Go to your room!”
“Ya shagool! Quasimodo, haa?” Fajer cried, stifling a laugh, “Ana awareech!”
“OK, Long John Silver,” Jawhara laughed. “Inzain 7e6ay cream 3alaih! Maybe yifish?”
“I don’t think ra7 yifish in an hour, Jojo,” Fajer whimpered, staring at the clock that hung above the television set. A rerun of Grey’s Anatomy was playing without sound, leaving Jawhara to try and read McDreamy’s lips.
“Try and see. Itha killish killish, just wear shades. And don’t take them off,” Jawhara smiled her mischievous grin.
“Don’t take them off?” Fajer repeated, getting up to stare at her face in the large gold-framed mirror. She tried to open her eye a little more than it would, but the burning sensation filled her tiny eye with tears that dribbled down her cheek. “Ow!”
“Fajoor, don’t cry,” Jawhara pouted, making a genuinely sad face.
“I’m not crying, Jooj,” Fajer chuckled, “It really really hurts.”
“Inzain tell Wahab you can’t come?” Jawhara offered up another suggestion that was immediately rebuffed.
“No, no, no,” Fajer disappointedly shook her head at herself in the mirror. “I’m gonna see him. I’ll just put stupid glasses on. Can we go pick out an outfit now? Mako wagt.”
“Yalla,” Jawhara smiled and led her friend up the winding staircase and into Fajer’s messy room.
Fajer flopped onto her bed, her curly mane bouncing behind her. Staring at Jawhara parading in front of her open closet, she shook her head every so often at the ungodly choices Jawhara picked out for her. “No, too madri shloon,” she’d say. When Jawhara pulled out a pale blue tunic, Fajer made an awful retching noise. “I don’t even know why that thing is still in my closet. It’s more than two years old!”
Finally, the girls settled on a camel-beige sweater dress, paired with thick brown leggings and of course, Fajer’s trusty pair of Uggs.
“3ad accessorize on your own,” Jawhara instructed, walking past Fajer’s large collection of earrings and necklaces.
“Sure,” Fajer snorted, “I think the glasses will be a big enough accessory. I’m just gonna wear pearl studs and a scarf.”
“That works,” Jawhara smiled, sitting down on the bed next to her best friend. She reached over into Fajer’s bedside table’s drawer and pulled out a thin white tube of Fucidin which she expertly applied to Fajer’s swollen eye.
“Listen, I’m sorry if I yelled at you or seemed mean earlier today,” Fajer sighed as Jawhara dabbed a finger full of pasty cream onto Fajer’s eyelid.
“It’s OK; itmooneen,” Jawhara smiled, wiping her hands together. “Inzain yalla, get dressed; you only have like 15 minutes.”
“I love you,” Fajer smiled with her eyes closed, stretching her arms out for a hug.
Jawhara hugged Fajer and patted her back lovingly. “I love you, too. You smell like potatoes. Shmakla?”
“I haven’t eaten a thing,” Fajer wrinkled her brow, smelling the sleeve of her pajamas. “They’re new pajamas so they smell funny.”
“I hope that smell doesn’t stick on you. Kafi your eye; you don’t wanna be smelling like potatoes, too!”
“Yalla 3ad yalla!” Fajer giggled. “Don’t make me feel worse!”
“I’m kidding,” Jawhara smiled, “Yalla goomay. I’m gonna get going.”
“Thank you sooooo much, babe,” Fajer hugged Jawhara again. “Pray for me.”
“7abeebti, illi yabeech, yabeech bi5yasich. There will be days worse than this,” Jawhara warned.
“Rabena yostor!” Fajer said loudly in the most hilarious and thick Egyptian accent. After exploding into fits of giggles, Fajer walked Jawhara out and ran up the stairs to get dressed.
Wahab called Fajer at exactly 12.15 PM, immediately asking if she was dressed.
“I’m dressed, bes more importantly, how was your exam?” Fajer asked, pinning up a loose strand of her hair.
“It was good, I think. I hope. I don’t wanna think about it al7een abi astanas wiyach,” Wahab smiled as he gripped the steering wheel and zigzagged through the streets. They arranged to meet up at the Surra co-op, where Fajer would park and ride with Wahab. It took her less than 5 minutes to reach Surra’s co-op, and after she’d found a secluded parking spot, she waited patiently for Wahab to come, silently praying that he’d cancel so he wouldn’t have to see her in such a miserable state.
Her mobile rang and his name flashed frantically across the screen, and she answered, guiding him to the spot where she had parked.
“Ka ashoofich,” Wahab said, and Fajer checked her rear-view mirror to see his shiny Lexus jeep pull up about a meter behind her. “Yalla rikbay, bes bserrrr3a la7ad yishoofich!”
“Inzain, kani nazla,” Fajer smiled.
“Fajoor, min 9ijji. Moo tig3ideen itdawreen jan6itich oo t3adleen mikyajich madri shitsaween! Bser3a ni6ay bilsayara gabl la yishoofoonich ilawadem,” Wahab repeated in a joking tone of voice.
“Inzaaaain, ha! Kani nazla!” Fajer laughed as she quickly turned off the ignition, got out of her car and climbed into the passenger seat of the Lexus jeep.
“Ya hala bilzain,” Wahab sighed as soon as Fajer had slammed the door shut. He reached out for her hand and placed it into his before driving off out of the parking lot.
“Hala feek,” Fajer said shyly, feeling her palms get hot. Her giant Versace sunglasses were doing a terrific job of hiding her plump eyelid, but a terrible job of allowing her to see how gorgeous Wahab looked today. His usual style of a hoodie and training pants was exchanged for a more preppy look – he wore a pair of dark distressed jeans with a striped button-up shirt that was cloaked with a burgundy V-neck Polo sweater. His white sneakers completed the look, but something was missing. Fajer peeked at his face and realized he wasn’t wearing sunglasses.
As if he read her mind, Wahab grinned from ear to ear and said, “Tara mako shams barra; iljaw ‘3aim.”, as if Fajer had absolutely no idea.
“I know,” she replied quietly, feeling uncomfortable. More than anything, she didn’t want to take her glasses off – it was only their second real date and Fajer was ready to go out of her way to avoid embarrassment.
Wahab gave her hand a light squeeze and laughed. “Fis5ay na’6artich, shfeech?”
“Mabi,” Fajer replied instantly, feeling a little rude for the way she’d answered him.
“Nasya t7i6een ke7ellll?” Wahab teased, sliding his elbow against the wide armrest. “3adi, shda3wa Fajoorti. Ana nisait a7e6 aftershave. 7adda 3adi.”
“Ma nisait a7e6 ke7el, Wahab,” Fajer moaned, almost laughing at herself when she remembered she’d only put ke7el in her right eye.
“3ayal shfeech?” Wahab raised an eyebrow, turning his head towards Fajer.
She took a deep breath and admired his beauty through her good eye. His clean shaven face looked so smooth, she wanted to rub the back of her hand against it. He’d left the saksooka as it was, just as Fajer liked, and his wavy hair looked neat. Best of all, Wahab’s gleaming brown eyes shone even when there was no sunlight to reflect off of them. ‘3yoon ilmaha,’ Fajer thought with a smile.
“Wahab, my eye hurts,” Fajer frowned sadly, not knowing how to explain herself. She could feel her left eye get smaller as the lump grew larger and more painful.
“5al ashoof,” Wahab pressured her, turning into a random fireej so that he could stop the car without disrupting traffic.
“Are you sure you want to see this?” Fajer asked uneasily, readying her hand to pull off her sunglasses.
“Lo mabi ashoof chan ma sa2alt; yalla Fajoor, show me!” Wahab started to get irritated.
Fajer sighed and gave in, slowly pulling her sunglasses away from her face. Just as she’d suspected, the lump on her eye was as big as a 50 fils coin, only with the volume of a blueberry. Thanks to the Fucidin that Jawhara had applied earlier, not only was the swelling pink and puffy, it was also glossy with the Fucidin’s residue.
“Offff!!” Wahab cried, reaching out to touch her eye. “Shloon chithee?? Shino hatha??”
“Don’t touch it!” Fajer yelped, jerking her head back away from Wahab’s curious hands. Wahab pulled his hand away and looked at her eye, analyzing it. “Tara you’re not making me feel so great when you’re looking at it like that.”
“7abeebti, I’m sorry, bes shloon chithee?” Wahab bit his lower lip, feeling Fajer’s pain.
“Bagga gre9atni, Allah yagre9 iblees’ha!” Fajer cried, and Wahab sputtered with laughter.
“Ya 7ilwich,” Wahab smiled as he picked up her hand and kissed it. “You’re still beautiful to me. Leave the glasses off.”
“Wahaaaab!” Fajer protested, but he tutted and grabbed her sunglasses, hiding them in the compartment of the driver’s door.
“Are you sure this is just a bug bite?” Wahab asked as they drove back out of the fireej. Fajer nodded and stared out of the window into the side mirror, examining her reflection. She wouldn’t look so bad if it weren’t for her crazy eye, but as long as Wahab didn’t mind, she figured she’d have to live with it.
They drove through Surra and into Jabriya, up and down the trafficked streets until they finally stopped at the infamous Al-Shanakel toy store. Wahab told Fajer to wait in the car, and he ran out onto the sidewalk and into the toy store. Fajer watched with confusion, observing the little children with their nannies and parents running around the bicycles and stuffed animals outside. A little girl with a tiny Fulla backpack ran up to a stuffed white bear twice her size and collapsed in it’s outstretched arms, begging her impatient mother to buy it for her. “Wayid kbeer, Mama,” her mother coaxed. “E5theelich shay a9’3ar!”. But the girl refused and tightened her grip on the humongous bear until her mother finally gave in and asked the stout Egyptian salesman how much the bear cost. Fajer smiled contently as the mother shelled out colorful dinar notes from her ratted leather purse, picked up the giant bear and loaded it into the back seat of her blue Pajero.
By that time, Wahab strolled out of the shop. He looked so out of place, Fajer couldn’t help but giggle. He opened the car door and handed a plastic bag to Fajer to hold as he sat in the driver’s seat and buckled himself in.
“What’s this?” Fajer asked, and Wahab reached out and took the bag away from her.
“This is for you,” he replied as he reached into the bag and pulled out a tiny brown bear and handed it to Fajer.
The bear was adorable; his short arms held a bright red heart that had the words “Get Well Soon” etched onto the front in white lettering. He was the softest bear Fajer had ever touched, and she lovingly stroked his head with her fingers. “Awww, Wahabiii! Laish chithee; you shouldn’t have!”
“Shda3wa, it’s a little something for you to remember me by,” Wahab held her hand again, interlocking his fingers with hers.
“Shloon ansak, ana?” she asked him lovingly. “You are so thoughtful, walla Wahab. Thank you.”
“Intay Fajoorti,” he cooed happily. “Don’t thank me. Tistahlain wayid akthar.”
“What else is in the bag?” Fajer smiled devilishly at two thick pieces of cardboard jutting out of the white plastic bag.
“Hatha, Allah yisalmich, shay 7aggi oo 7aggich. Oo itha ma libasteeh bariddich baitkum,” Wahab threatened jokingly.
“5anshoof shimhabbeb 7abeebi,” Fajer wondered aloud as Wahab pulled out the two large cardboard rectangles. Encased in plastic was a costume toy set, and Fajer read the bright green letters “Pirate Man” on the top. “NO!” Fajer cried, shaking her head violently in objection.
“Mooooo bkaifich!” Wahab laughed as he ripped open the pirate costume toy set. “Mabeech talbeseena killa!”
“Mara7 albis any of it!” Fajer complained, folding her arms across her chest.
“Agoolich mo bkaifich!” Wahab laughed. “Here, put this on bidal hal nathara illi kintay labsat’ha.” He handed her a black plastic eye patch that was secured with a long elastic string. “I’ll put one on, too.”
“Wahab!” Fajer tried miserably not to laugh, but he was too silly. She slid the elastic band her head and covered her pink eye with the plastic eye patch, and turned to look at Wahab, who’d put his patch on as well.
“You look soooo cute!” Wahab laughed boisterously, pinching Fajer’s cheek.
“I look ridiculous, and so do you!” Fajer exclaimed, not wanting to admit that the eye patch actually felt a little comfortable.
“Good. We can be ridiculous together,” Wahab grinned, his full cheeks pressing against the black eye patch. “Arrrrgh, matey!”
“Agool, ya matey,” Fajer was giggling so hard that her stomach began to ache. “Where are we gonna go looking like this?”
“You’ll see,” Wahab bit his tongue playfully and put the gear into drive.
“With one eye,” Fajer joked, “How are you going to drive?”
“I don’t care; ana 3adi asoog blindfolded,” Wahab reassured her. They drove out of Jabriya, not caring about who saw them or who made fun of their crazy get-up. Fajer placed her “Get Well Soon” bear onto her lap and leaned back against the seat, getting a natural high off the sound of the car’s engine and the sensation of Wahab’s smooth fingers gently rubbing her hand.
+++++ M7amed 3abdu - Da3ani Il-Shoog (3ood) +++++
----------------------------------------------
Fajer woke up startled to the sound of her phone ringing loudly in her ear. She could’ve sworn she’d left it on her dresser table before she went to sleep; her father was always warning her about the dangers of leaving her phone on her bed while she was asleep. The soft ringtone of M7amed 3abdu singing along to his 3ood wafted into her ears: "Da3ani Il-Shooooog Yal-'3ali Wana Min Il-Wajd Labaiiitah! Magdar 3ala Il-Bu3d.. 3ezzah Li! Ya 3ezzaaaah Li! Galbi Te3athab Oo 3annaitah, Da3ani Il-Shooooog!"
“Hala Wahabi,” she mumbled into the phone.
“9ba7 il5air, Joora,” Wahab smiled as he started the engine of his car. “Goomay.”
“9ba7 inoor,” Fajer replied, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Laish, shfeek?”
“Ma feeni shay; raye7 iljam3a now emti7ani ilyoom,” Wahab said nervously, fumbling with the gear. He glanced to his right to make sure that all of his papers and pens were with him before reversing out onto the streets of 3dailiya.
“Oh 9aaa7!” Fajer sat up in her bed, hugging her sheets around her chest. A cold draft was coming in from somewhere and it had been tickling her all night, but it was even worse in the morning after she’d been warmed from head to toe. “Good luck, sweety,” she smiled, turning on her bedside lamp. The sudden brightness of the lamp blinded Fajer, and she squinted, feeling the sleep make it’s way back into her eyes.
“Thanks, Fajoorti,” Wahab grinned. “Adiglich ana awal ma a5ale9. OK? Be ready at 12.”
“Ready for what?” Fajer inquired, curious to know what Wahab had up his sleeve.
“Malich shi’3il, be ready oo 5ala9,” Wahab smiled slyly as he made his way through the dense morning traffic.
“Inzain shloon iljaw barra?” she asked, so she’d know what to wear for whatever it is they were going to do.
“Bard. Libsay 3adil,” he warned, looking at the cold fog accumulate on his windshield.
“Zain,” she nodded, staring at her closet as if she had X-ray eyesight and trying to envision what her outfit would look like. As soon as they hung up, Fajer remembered Jawhara. She held down the number 3 on her keypad and watched as her phone automatically speed-dialed Jawhara’s number. “Jojo,” she spoke into the phone.
“Mmm,” Jawhara rolled over and buried her face into her satiny pillow.
“Sh9ar 3alaich?” Fajer asked, remember how hard her friend was crying the night before.
Jawhara’s eyes fluttered open, letting her mind absorb and consume the events of last night, even though they felt blurry to her. “Madri,” Jawhara replied honestly, “Mbarak dag oo I told him about what happened, and then he closed the phone in my face and we spoke again after an hour oo he told me he took care of everything, whatever that means.”
“Jawhara!” Fajer slapped her hand against her knee for emphasis, “Ana cham marra agoollich don’t tell the guy everything?! Shfeech? Shako tgooleela?!” She fumed with anger at the thought of another guy taking advantage of Jawhara because of how easily she trusted them.
“What was I supposed to do, Fajoor? Dag 3alay oo ma gidart amsik ilbachya oo I just told him what happened!” Jawhara replied defensively.
“Still; make up anything! Tell him you got your period oo ba6nich yi3awrich! Tell him anything! Al7een shoofay what kind of problem bit9eer.”
“There won’t be any problems, Fajer,” Jawhara said quietly. Even though Jawhara knew Fajer wanted what was best for her, she couldn’t help but feel belittled everytime Fajer lectured her.
“I sure as hell hope not,” Fajer snapped, shaking her head. She kicked off her bed covers and slipped her cold feet into her fuzzy pink slippers and shuffled across her bedroom.
“Are you mad?” Jawhara made a face, feeling a little unnerved by the way Fajer reacted.
“I’m not mad,” Fajer sighed, “Jooj, you just need to know how to handle these situations better. Farthan Mbarak sawa 7ag A7med salfa oo it all turned and backfired on you? Then what are you gonna do? Call Mbarak and have him deal with it? Tara Kuwaiti guys may7iboon ilnakad wil3awar ras, babe. You and I know this very very well.”
“I know, but it just came out, ya3ni shasawi?” Jawhara frowned at Fajer’s lecturing. “I don’t think anything bad can happen from here. 5ala9, 6af.”
“Yeah,” Fajer mumbled and tried to lighten up the mood, “Inzain, apparently I have a surprise date with Wahab at 12.”
“Really?” Jawhara smiled for the first time that morning, “Do you know what you want to wear? Or do you want me to come over?”
Fajer smiled to herself; even though she’d just lashed out at Jawhara, Jawhara saw past it and was considerate enough to offer her help. “That would be nice. Ta3alay!”
“10 minutes wana 3indich,” Jawhara grinned and hung up. She picked out a white velour training suit which she matched up with a long-sleeve Kelly green undershirt and diamond clustered studs. Quickly washing her face and slipping everything on, she swung her door open and bounced down the stairs to find her mother sitting on the plush couch, quietly drumming her fingers on the armrest.
“9ba7 il5air, Mama,” Jawhara kissed the crown of her mother’s head and was about to turn around and head out the door when her mother stopped her.
“Wain ray7a?” Jawhara’s mother asked frostily.
“Fajer’s,” Jawhara replied, sensing her mother’s dry tone-of-voice. Nothing made her heart ache more than seeing her mother upset. “Shfeech, Mama?”
“Ta3alay, bakalmich shway,” her mother ordered, and Jawhara slowly turned around and walked back to the couch where her mother sat. She stared blankly at her mother and waited to hear what she had to say. “Gi3day, shfeech wagfa?”
Jawhara sat down next to her mother, concerned. “Shfeech, Mama?” Her heart beat rapidly in her ribcage, expecting to hear the worst.
After a long moment of silence her mother finally turned to her and said, “Mumkin tgooleeli bithab6 shino 9ar barra ilbeit ams?”
Jawhara fidgeted in her seat and huffed, not knowing how to explain the A7med situation to her mother. Her mother had never liked A7med; ever since Jawhara had started dating him, her mother kept a close watch on everything Jawhara did and saw how often her daughter was unhappy. Every time Jawhara was crying or didn’t feel like eating, her mother knew instantly that A7med was the cause, even when Jawhara would deny it continuously. Jawhara’s mother threatened time and time again to call A7med’s mother and inform her of the bad job she was doing at raising her son, but she knew she’d lose Jawhara’s trust if she ever did anything of the sort.
“Bitgooleeli wala la2? A7med shyayba 3ind beitna?” Jawhara’s mother repeated, her lips forming a tight line across her face.
Jawhara couldn’t help but lower her head at her mother’s disapproval. ‘It’s not like I told him to come,’ she felt like saying, but she knew better than to explain herself that way. Jawhara began slowly by telling her mother about the study group incident and how A7med was continuously staring and making her feel uncomfortable, and how she’d come home to find him waiting outside in the street. Jawhara’s mother huffed and puffed after every sentence her daughter spoke, furious at A7med’s nerve and the way Jawhara had reacted to the situation. “Mama, you should’ve called me,” her mother shook her head.
“Mom, adiglich and say what? That my crazy ex is outside the house threatening me?” Jawhara asked incredulously.
“Yes! Exactly that!” her mother’s eyes widened.
“Mama..,” Jawhara began, “I was already shocked oo scared. Shloon badiglich ya3ni?”
Jawhara’s mother dismissed her pathetic explanation and tutted, “Still, mali shi’3il.”
Jawhara sat quietly with her hands clasped between her knees, not knowing whether to sit around and twiddle her thumbs or to admit defeat and apologize so she could make her way to Fajer’s house. All she knew was that she couldn’t look her mother in the eye.
Jawhara’s heart panged with guilt for not confiding in her mother – when her father was alive, she’d found it easier to talk to her mother about the good and the bad because she knew she would probably get scolded by her father. But since her father passed away, Jawhara’s mother had turned into a mother and a father, so Jawhara never knew what to expect. “I’m sorry, Mama,” Jawhara murmured, feeling a tickle in her throat.
Jawhara felt her mother’s hand against her back, moving upwards and downwards in a clockwise motion. She never really understood why people did that until now – it really did help a person relax. The tense nerves in her back eased up slowly, sending a delightful tingle up to her shoulders and down to her lower back. “It’s ok, 7abeebti,” her mother smiled. Bes next time if anything like this happens, you tell me.”
Jawhara nodded, turning her head to look at her mother. She kissed her forehead softly hoping for approval, and when she saw her mother smile slightly, her heart swelled with joy. “I love you,” Jawhara said as she rest her head against her mother’s shoulder.
“I love you, too,” her mother replied, running her thin fingers through Jawhara’s wavy tresses.
After a brief moment, Jawhara told her mother she was going to Fajer’s house, excusing herself. She practically ran out the door and into the driver’s seat of her black SUV, ready to start the ignition. She plugged her iPod into the long auxiliary wire and tuned it to her favorite playlist before revving up the engine and making her way to Fajer’s house. The sun’s piercing golden rays made their way through the thick grey clouds, giving hopes that it wouldn’t rain. But as if she’d spoken too soon, a huge solitary raindrop splattered on her windshield as soon as she parked in Fajer’s driveway. As usual, Fajer’s parents weren’t home, so Jawhara ran inside, shielding her wavy locks from any more rain.
“Fajoor?” Jawhara called, her voice echoing against the walls of the high-rise foyer.
“I’m in here,” Fajer’s voice came from the living room. She lay on the massive brown leather couch in her pajamas, her brown curls cascading on her shoulders. The living room was completely dark except for the array of bright light coming from the muted television set.
“Shfeech ga3da bil’6alma?” Jawhara askled, reaching for the light switch.
“No!” Fajer almost shouted. “Dude, don’t turn on the lights. My eye is gonna freak you out.”
“Your eye? Shfeech?” Jawhara giggled. “Didn’t you wash your face this morning?”
“Yessss,” Fajer huffed, hugging her knees towards her chest, “Only to find that a stupid mosquito bit my eyelid!”
“No way!” Jawhara burst out laughing, “This I gotta see!” She turned on the light switch and walked closer to her friend who indeed had a left eyelid so pink and puffy that her eye was nothing but a small slit. Jawhara gasped, trying not to reach out and touch it with her finger.
“Don’t touch it!” Fajer flinched, “It hurts!”
“Quasimodo,” Jawhara joked, “you’re not supposed to be here, with the real people! Go to your room!”
“Ya shagool! Quasimodo, haa?” Fajer cried, stifling a laugh, “Ana awareech!”
“OK, Long John Silver,” Jawhara laughed. “Inzain 7e6ay cream 3alaih! Maybe yifish?”
“I don’t think ra7 yifish in an hour, Jojo,” Fajer whimpered, staring at the clock that hung above the television set. A rerun of Grey’s Anatomy was playing without sound, leaving Jawhara to try and read McDreamy’s lips.
“Try and see. Itha killish killish, just wear shades. And don’t take them off,” Jawhara smiled her mischievous grin.
“Don’t take them off?” Fajer repeated, getting up to stare at her face in the large gold-framed mirror. She tried to open her eye a little more than it would, but the burning sensation filled her tiny eye with tears that dribbled down her cheek. “Ow!”
“Fajoor, don’t cry,” Jawhara pouted, making a genuinely sad face.
“I’m not crying, Jooj,” Fajer chuckled, “It really really hurts.”
“Inzain tell Wahab you can’t come?” Jawhara offered up another suggestion that was immediately rebuffed.
“No, no, no,” Fajer disappointedly shook her head at herself in the mirror. “I’m gonna see him. I’ll just put stupid glasses on. Can we go pick out an outfit now? Mako wagt.”
“Yalla,” Jawhara smiled and led her friend up the winding staircase and into Fajer’s messy room.
Fajer flopped onto her bed, her curly mane bouncing behind her. Staring at Jawhara parading in front of her open closet, she shook her head every so often at the ungodly choices Jawhara picked out for her. “No, too madri shloon,” she’d say. When Jawhara pulled out a pale blue tunic, Fajer made an awful retching noise. “I don’t even know why that thing is still in my closet. It’s more than two years old!”
Finally, the girls settled on a camel-beige sweater dress, paired with thick brown leggings and of course, Fajer’s trusty pair of Uggs.
“3ad accessorize on your own,” Jawhara instructed, walking past Fajer’s large collection of earrings and necklaces.
“Sure,” Fajer snorted, “I think the glasses will be a big enough accessory. I’m just gonna wear pearl studs and a scarf.”
“That works,” Jawhara smiled, sitting down on the bed next to her best friend. She reached over into Fajer’s bedside table’s drawer and pulled out a thin white tube of Fucidin which she expertly applied to Fajer’s swollen eye.
“Listen, I’m sorry if I yelled at you or seemed mean earlier today,” Fajer sighed as Jawhara dabbed a finger full of pasty cream onto Fajer’s eyelid.
“It’s OK; itmooneen,” Jawhara smiled, wiping her hands together. “Inzain yalla, get dressed; you only have like 15 minutes.”
“I love you,” Fajer smiled with her eyes closed, stretching her arms out for a hug.
Jawhara hugged Fajer and patted her back lovingly. “I love you, too. You smell like potatoes. Shmakla?”
“I haven’t eaten a thing,” Fajer wrinkled her brow, smelling the sleeve of her pajamas. “They’re new pajamas so they smell funny.”
“I hope that smell doesn’t stick on you. Kafi your eye; you don’t wanna be smelling like potatoes, too!”
“Yalla 3ad yalla!” Fajer giggled. “Don’t make me feel worse!”
“I’m kidding,” Jawhara smiled, “Yalla goomay. I’m gonna get going.”
“Thank you sooooo much, babe,” Fajer hugged Jawhara again. “Pray for me.”
“7abeebti, illi yabeech, yabeech bi5yasich. There will be days worse than this,” Jawhara warned.
“Rabena yostor!” Fajer said loudly in the most hilarious and thick Egyptian accent. After exploding into fits of giggles, Fajer walked Jawhara out and ran up the stairs to get dressed.
Wahab called Fajer at exactly 12.15 PM, immediately asking if she was dressed.
“I’m dressed, bes more importantly, how was your exam?” Fajer asked, pinning up a loose strand of her hair.
“It was good, I think. I hope. I don’t wanna think about it al7een abi astanas wiyach,” Wahab smiled as he gripped the steering wheel and zigzagged through the streets. They arranged to meet up at the Surra co-op, where Fajer would park and ride with Wahab. It took her less than 5 minutes to reach Surra’s co-op, and after she’d found a secluded parking spot, she waited patiently for Wahab to come, silently praying that he’d cancel so he wouldn’t have to see her in such a miserable state.
Her mobile rang and his name flashed frantically across the screen, and she answered, guiding him to the spot where she had parked.
“Ka ashoofich,” Wahab said, and Fajer checked her rear-view mirror to see his shiny Lexus jeep pull up about a meter behind her. “Yalla rikbay, bes bserrrr3a la7ad yishoofich!”
“Inzain, kani nazla,” Fajer smiled.
“Fajoor, min 9ijji. Moo tig3ideen itdawreen jan6itich oo t3adleen mikyajich madri shitsaween! Bser3a ni6ay bilsayara gabl la yishoofoonich ilawadem,” Wahab repeated in a joking tone of voice.
“Inzaaaain, ha! Kani nazla!” Fajer laughed as she quickly turned off the ignition, got out of her car and climbed into the passenger seat of the Lexus jeep.
“Ya hala bilzain,” Wahab sighed as soon as Fajer had slammed the door shut. He reached out for her hand and placed it into his before driving off out of the parking lot.
“Hala feek,” Fajer said shyly, feeling her palms get hot. Her giant Versace sunglasses were doing a terrific job of hiding her plump eyelid, but a terrible job of allowing her to see how gorgeous Wahab looked today. His usual style of a hoodie and training pants was exchanged for a more preppy look – he wore a pair of dark distressed jeans with a striped button-up shirt that was cloaked with a burgundy V-neck Polo sweater. His white sneakers completed the look, but something was missing. Fajer peeked at his face and realized he wasn’t wearing sunglasses.
As if he read her mind, Wahab grinned from ear to ear and said, “Tara mako shams barra; iljaw ‘3aim.”, as if Fajer had absolutely no idea.
“I know,” she replied quietly, feeling uncomfortable. More than anything, she didn’t want to take her glasses off – it was only their second real date and Fajer was ready to go out of her way to avoid embarrassment.
Wahab gave her hand a light squeeze and laughed. “Fis5ay na’6artich, shfeech?”
“Mabi,” Fajer replied instantly, feeling a little rude for the way she’d answered him.
“Nasya t7i6een ke7ellll?” Wahab teased, sliding his elbow against the wide armrest. “3adi, shda3wa Fajoorti. Ana nisait a7e6 aftershave. 7adda 3adi.”
“Ma nisait a7e6 ke7el, Wahab,” Fajer moaned, almost laughing at herself when she remembered she’d only put ke7el in her right eye.
“3ayal shfeech?” Wahab raised an eyebrow, turning his head towards Fajer.
She took a deep breath and admired his beauty through her good eye. His clean shaven face looked so smooth, she wanted to rub the back of her hand against it. He’d left the saksooka as it was, just as Fajer liked, and his wavy hair looked neat. Best of all, Wahab’s gleaming brown eyes shone even when there was no sunlight to reflect off of them. ‘3yoon ilmaha,’ Fajer thought with a smile.
“Wahab, my eye hurts,” Fajer frowned sadly, not knowing how to explain herself. She could feel her left eye get smaller as the lump grew larger and more painful.
“5al ashoof,” Wahab pressured her, turning into a random fireej so that he could stop the car without disrupting traffic.
“Are you sure you want to see this?” Fajer asked uneasily, readying her hand to pull off her sunglasses.
“Lo mabi ashoof chan ma sa2alt; yalla Fajoor, show me!” Wahab started to get irritated.
Fajer sighed and gave in, slowly pulling her sunglasses away from her face. Just as she’d suspected, the lump on her eye was as big as a 50 fils coin, only with the volume of a blueberry. Thanks to the Fucidin that Jawhara had applied earlier, not only was the swelling pink and puffy, it was also glossy with the Fucidin’s residue.
“Offff!!” Wahab cried, reaching out to touch her eye. “Shloon chithee?? Shino hatha??”
“Don’t touch it!” Fajer yelped, jerking her head back away from Wahab’s curious hands. Wahab pulled his hand away and looked at her eye, analyzing it. “Tara you’re not making me feel so great when you’re looking at it like that.”
“7abeebti, I’m sorry, bes shloon chithee?” Wahab bit his lower lip, feeling Fajer’s pain.
“Bagga gre9atni, Allah yagre9 iblees’ha!” Fajer cried, and Wahab sputtered with laughter.
“Ya 7ilwich,” Wahab smiled as he picked up her hand and kissed it. “You’re still beautiful to me. Leave the glasses off.”
“Wahaaaab!” Fajer protested, but he tutted and grabbed her sunglasses, hiding them in the compartment of the driver’s door.
“Are you sure this is just a bug bite?” Wahab asked as they drove back out of the fireej. Fajer nodded and stared out of the window into the side mirror, examining her reflection. She wouldn’t look so bad if it weren’t for her crazy eye, but as long as Wahab didn’t mind, she figured she’d have to live with it.
They drove through Surra and into Jabriya, up and down the trafficked streets until they finally stopped at the infamous Al-Shanakel toy store. Wahab told Fajer to wait in the car, and he ran out onto the sidewalk and into the toy store. Fajer watched with confusion, observing the little children with their nannies and parents running around the bicycles and stuffed animals outside. A little girl with a tiny Fulla backpack ran up to a stuffed white bear twice her size and collapsed in it’s outstretched arms, begging her impatient mother to buy it for her. “Wayid kbeer, Mama,” her mother coaxed. “E5theelich shay a9’3ar!”. But the girl refused and tightened her grip on the humongous bear until her mother finally gave in and asked the stout Egyptian salesman how much the bear cost. Fajer smiled contently as the mother shelled out colorful dinar notes from her ratted leather purse, picked up the giant bear and loaded it into the back seat of her blue Pajero.
By that time, Wahab strolled out of the shop. He looked so out of place, Fajer couldn’t help but giggle. He opened the car door and handed a plastic bag to Fajer to hold as he sat in the driver’s seat and buckled himself in.
“What’s this?” Fajer asked, and Wahab reached out and took the bag away from her.
“This is for you,” he replied as he reached into the bag and pulled out a tiny brown bear and handed it to Fajer.
The bear was adorable; his short arms held a bright red heart that had the words “Get Well Soon” etched onto the front in white lettering. He was the softest bear Fajer had ever touched, and she lovingly stroked his head with her fingers. “Awww, Wahabiii! Laish chithee; you shouldn’t have!”
“Shda3wa, it’s a little something for you to remember me by,” Wahab held her hand again, interlocking his fingers with hers.
“Shloon ansak, ana?” she asked him lovingly. “You are so thoughtful, walla Wahab. Thank you.”
“Intay Fajoorti,” he cooed happily. “Don’t thank me. Tistahlain wayid akthar.”
“What else is in the bag?” Fajer smiled devilishly at two thick pieces of cardboard jutting out of the white plastic bag.
“Hatha, Allah yisalmich, shay 7aggi oo 7aggich. Oo itha ma libasteeh bariddich baitkum,” Wahab threatened jokingly.
“5anshoof shimhabbeb 7abeebi,” Fajer wondered aloud as Wahab pulled out the two large cardboard rectangles. Encased in plastic was a costume toy set, and Fajer read the bright green letters “Pirate Man” on the top. “NO!” Fajer cried, shaking her head violently in objection.
“Mooooo bkaifich!” Wahab laughed as he ripped open the pirate costume toy set. “Mabeech talbeseena killa!”
“Mara7 albis any of it!” Fajer complained, folding her arms across her chest.
“Agoolich mo bkaifich!” Wahab laughed. “Here, put this on bidal hal nathara illi kintay labsat’ha.” He handed her a black plastic eye patch that was secured with a long elastic string. “I’ll put one on, too.”
“Wahab!” Fajer tried miserably not to laugh, but he was too silly. She slid the elastic band her head and covered her pink eye with the plastic eye patch, and turned to look at Wahab, who’d put his patch on as well.
“You look soooo cute!” Wahab laughed boisterously, pinching Fajer’s cheek.
“I look ridiculous, and so do you!” Fajer exclaimed, not wanting to admit that the eye patch actually felt a little comfortable.
“Good. We can be ridiculous together,” Wahab grinned, his full cheeks pressing against the black eye patch. “Arrrrgh, matey!”
“Agool, ya matey,” Fajer was giggling so hard that her stomach began to ache. “Where are we gonna go looking like this?”
“You’ll see,” Wahab bit his tongue playfully and put the gear into drive.
“With one eye,” Fajer joked, “How are you going to drive?”
“I don’t care; ana 3adi asoog blindfolded,” Wahab reassured her. They drove out of Jabriya, not caring about who saw them or who made fun of their crazy get-up. Fajer placed her “Get Well Soon” bear onto her lap and leaned back against the seat, getting a natural high off the sound of the car’s engine and the sensation of Wahab’s smooth fingers gently rubbing her hand.
+++++ M7amed 3abdu - Da3ani Il-Shoog (3ood) +++++
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Happy New Year!
Hey all!
A very very very happy new year to all of you. I hope 2009 is filled with wonderful memories and the best luck for all of you. Allah yi5aleekum li :) Thank you for keeping this blog alive and being so supportive! I love you all and hope you all had a safe and fun new years!
A very very very happy new year to all of you. I hope 2009 is filled with wonderful memories and the best luck for all of you. Allah yi5aleekum li :) Thank you for keeping this blog alive and being so supportive! I love you all and hope you all had a safe and fun new years!
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