CHAPTER 14

WHEN SHE REACHED THE LANEWAY of the old stone house, the living room emanated a blue glow. The moving light of the TV caught the audience in its toxic spell. Adele stood outside and watched the belly dancers on the screen animate her father’s face. His hands clapped in rhythm to the Arabic music. She stood quietly and watched her family gathered around the TV, snacking on pistachios and drinking arak or coffee. She stepped closer to the door, and clasped the brass knob, her fingers shaking from the anger she felt. She lifted her shoulders, held her head high. Heart racing, she slowly turned the knob. She was so sick of them controlling her, telling her what to do and how to do it. Damn them. She was going to let them know that her life was hers, not theirs. Suddenly, she dropped her hand and stepped back. Rather than confront her family, she turned and sprinted in the opposite direction.

She went to the edge of the village and sank down to her knees on the riverbank, pressing her hands onto her thighs while she calmed the quick pounding in her chest. After a few minutes, her breathing returned to normal. Then she sat cross-legged and watched the light from the moon reflected on the surface of the sea-green water. Adele let her eyes travel over the low mountains surrounding her parents’ village. The entire landscape was a study of peaks, olive trees, and ridges. Even the dirt road had turns and bumps. She wanted to yell, throw her voice into the mountains. But she remained quiet and replayed Elias’s story in her mind. Then she lay back on the riverbank, her knees bent, her hands tucked behind her head. She breathed the river-scent, which reminded her of the smell of wet leaves after a downpour. She pulled her hand from underneath her thick hair, put it to her chest and felt her heart thumping. How could her sisters deceive her? she wondered. Then she thought of Elias, of how his own pain was much like hers. Should she marry him? Bring him to Canada? After a while, she sat up, rubbed her cold arms, and listened to insects chirping in the fields. She rose and walked slowly back to her uncle’s residence.

Back in the stone house, the television set was off, its blue glow replaced by the dim hallway light. She opened the front door and crept over the floorboards towards the bedrooms. Undressing in the moonlit room, she glanced at her sleeping sisters. Their faces were soft and relaxed, eyes closed, strands of black hair grazing their foreheads, their lips slightly parted. How dare they condemn her to a life with a man who was neutered, who couldn’t make love to her? she thought, breathing heavily. Fine, she couldn’t have children but there was nothing wrong with her sexual organs for pleasure. She stared hard at her sisters and tried to fathom the logic behind their deceit. She was young and a virgin, but she longed for sexual experiences and now her family wanted to deny this birthright to her. She needed to sleep. This anger exhausted her, made her legs numb and weak. She crawled into bed next to Mona. As soon as she slipped under the covers, she gave in to the night.

A few hours later, she opened her eyes. It was still dark and when she glanced at the clock on the dresser, she saw that it was only three in the morning. She turned over and tried to fall asleep on her stomach, tightly gripping the pillow, but she couldn’t get back to sleep. Her mind returned to Elias’s story, the truth connected to it, the betrayal. How could her sisters do this to her? she thought, sitting up now. And her mother? She looked at her sisters and felt pained by what they had done. They had colluded and plotted with her father to marry her to someone who could not even fuck her. She couldn’t imagine doing something like this to them, but somewhere deep inside she hoped her suspicions were wrong. The silver of the moon streaked the pale walls. Adele lifted her right hand and she began to make hand puppets, something she used to do as a child when she awoke late in the night. She didn’t find it comforting as it had been when she was a child. She fell back on the mattress and closed her eyes tight, hoping this would force her into a deep sleep.

The next morning, she roused herself awake, the sheets drenched with sweat. Sunlight poured through the large window. Mona suddenly shoved her out of the bed. “Christ, did you wet yourself or something? You’re all sweaty, Adele.”

“Sorry,” Adele mumbled, loosening herself from the damp blankets. She wiped her brow and stared down at the perspiration on her palm before dragging her hand across the sleeve of her pajamas. “I’m not used to the bed,” she lied, knowing the real reason was her fury.

Mona sat up and nudged Katrina. Katrina rubbed her eyes and looked across at Adele stripping off her nightclothes and standing naked before them.

“Put on some clothes before someone walks in and sees you. Haven’t you any shame? You’re always parading around as if you’re the only one in the room. This isn’t even our house,” Katrina whispered.

“Save it for your Bible study group.” Adele turned away from her sisters and stood in front of the window. She gazed at the mountains. They looked ordinary, dull in the morning light.

“Katrina’s right. Put on some clothes.” Mona got out of the bed and rummaged through a drawer. She pulled out a pair of pants and a blouse, and passed them to Adele.

Adele grudgingly slipped them on and, at the same time, sneered at her sisters. “You’re fucking prudes!”

“What’s come over you? You’re not a child anymore. Show some respect,” Mona hissed.

Adele shrieked, “Show some respect! I’m so tired of always doing what others tell me to do and like you said, ‘I’m not a child anymore,’ so I should be able to do what I want. If I want to stand in a bedroom completely naked, then I can. Who the fuck is going to come in? Speaking of respect, a respectful person would knock before entering a room but given our fucked-up family, they’d just rush in. Now that’s respect!”

Katrina twirled her finger around her temple and glanced across at Mona. She made a face.

Adele answered, “Yeah, I’m crazy. Totally, fucked up!”

“You said it, not us,” Mona snickered.

At this point, Rima walked into the room.

Adele quickly said, “See? She just barged in. Did you hear a knock? I certainly didn’t.”

Puzzled, Rima stared at Adele. “What’s all the yelling about?”

Mona shrugged her shoulders. “Just Monkey having one of her outbursts. You know how her temper is…she pissed herself in the bed…” she began to laugh, then Katrina and Rima joined in.

“Fuck off, Mona!” Adele snapped.

“Jeez, I’m only joking. Take a pill. No, maybe you shouldn’t. You’re acting like someone on drugs.”

“Leave me alone,” Adele said in a low voice. She then sat on a wooden chair covered with a colourful knitted blanket. Her fingers traced the pattern of the wool as her eyes stared blankly at the wall. Her sisters glanced at each other. There was a moment of silence before Adele spoke again. “You’re all traitors!” she hissed. “Elias told me everything!” Her voice began to crack. She glared at them, and one by one they looked away from her. She was certain then that they had been part of the plan.

“We tried to stop Babba,” Mona suddenly confessed.

Adele said nothing.

“Don’t be mad, Monkey. Babba was only trying to help,” Rima added, resting her hand on Adele’s shoulder, but Adele pushed it away and got up. She walked towards the door. Rima continued. “He wants you to have a chance at marriage with a Lebanese man. Elias is a good guy. He’s cute, smart and…”

“Impotent,” Adele spat out.

“Sex isn’t everything,” Katrina said.

“Anyway,” Mona added, “you can do plenty of other things. Intercourse isn’t all that great. Women have better orgasms with oral sex.”

Adele folded her arms on her chest and sighed in exasperation. “I can’t believe what you’re suggesting. Would you’ve settled for a marriage without intercourse? Answer me!” she snapped.

There was a brief moment of silence then Mona finally said, “No.”

“Why do you want me to marry Elias then?”

The sisters said nothing.

“You’re all fucking hypocrites!”

“But if you marry Elias, you’ll never have to worry about not being able to provide him with a child of his own. You’ll never feel guilty about not giving him that precious son or feel less worthy because you only gave him girls like Mama. You’ll be happier. Think yourself blessed in that respect,” Katrina interjected.

Adele’s shoulders stiffened. “Yes, you’re so right. I should feel blessed.”

“That’s the right attitude,” Rima said cheerfully.

Adele bit her lower lip and looked at her sisters. They were all sitting on the bed, the mattress sagging under their weight. “I should feel blessed…” she started and paused, then spat out, “…to have traitors as sisters!”

She stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her, making it vibrate as if in the aftershocks of an earthquake.

Standing in the front yard, Adele heard Rima’s voice floating through the living room window. She tiptoed closer to the house and leaned against the windowsill, making sure she was out of her father’s vision. “Adele knows everything, Babba,” Rima said.

“How? Did you tell her?” Youssef said, his voice rising in anger. Adele imagined her father furiously curling his moustache. “I told you not to say anything!” he yelled.

“I didn’t,” Rima croaked. “She found out on her own.”

“Impossible. Someone must have told her.” Adele peeked over the ledge and watched her father as he paced the room, pressing his right palm into his forehead. “What did she have to say?”

“Not much.” Rima quickly looked out the window and spied Adele’s curly hair as she ducked out of the way. Then Adele peeked over the ledge again and glanced from her father to the donkey in the yard; it was munching on weeds and also beginning to bray. She shooed it to be quiet but the animal went on.

“Well, things might be okay. Perhaps she’ll see that I’m right about this whole thing. She’ll realize that I’m right. Just wait and….” Youssef broke off and looked away from Rima, drawn to the braying. Giving up, Adele stood defiantly in front of the window now. She regarded her father sternly. He smiled at her. She stood up straight, hoping she looked as tough as she was trying to feel.

Later, Adele sat between her sisters on the large sofa in the cramped living room of Uncle Issa’s home, surrounded by other members of her family, including Elias and his parents.

“It’s the perfect solution to both our children’s…” Youssef trailed off and glanced across at Adele, “…unfortunate situations.” She didn’t meet his eyes, just turned and stared vacantly out the window. Several village children were playing on the road, throwing a ball back and forth; the midday sun hanging over the mountains lightened their dark hair. Youssef cleared his throat, then continued, now facing Elias’s parents. “Their choices are limited when it comes to having a husband or wife. We all know that no other Lebanese families would accept a daughter- or son-in-law who couldn’t perform all the necessities of marriage. They want grandchildren, full-blooded ones, not adopted. They want their children to marry healthy people. So, as I said before, Adele and Elias are a perfect match.”

“A perfect match,” Adele mumbled. “Because we can’t have children.” She cast a look of disgust at her father. Youssef looked at Elias’s parents. He fingered his thick, curling moustache. Adele watched him. He nervously tapped his right foot on the floor, which made his entire body shake.

After a few seconds, he forced himself to be still, and said, “It wasn’t their choice, I suppose. Allah chose this fate for them but it doesn’t have to be all bad. Adele…” Youssef leaned forward and rested his hand on her arm. “…Elias can make you happy. He’s educated and polite. He has a good heart. A gentleman. Give it a chance.”

“No, Babba,” Adele answered quickly, pushing his hand away from her. She sat up and looked at Elias sitting beside his parents on the other couch in the room. Elias smiled unevenly and rubbed his hands together nervously. Strands of hair were brushed behind his ears and the stubble she had seen on his cheeks when they had first met was now a beard. The tweed jacket fit him snugly as did his jeans. She thought she might be able to love him, but would it be enough? Could this love replace physical desire? Her eyes dropped down to his crotch then quickly she glanced away.

“Listen to your Babba,” Samira said quietly, sitting on a chair beside Youssef. She had her hands folded on her lap. She wore a black dress, and a grey shawl was draped over her shoulders. Her curly hair was pulled away from her suntanned face.

Adele looked scornfully at her mother and repeated, “No. Not this time, Mama. I won’t listen to him this time.”

Samira sighed loudly. “You’re being stub…”

Youssef interrupted, “Well, I don’t know what to say.” Samira leaned back into the chair. Her father went on. “You’re being difficult as usual. This is a good thing. Why can’t you see that? Be reasonable for once in your life. You can be married to a Lebanese man, keep your heritage intact.” Youssef smiled, then frowned. “We’ve come all this way and whether you like it or not, you’re marrying Elias,” he said determinedly, smacking his hands together. “No more arguments, understand?”

Adele looked from her sisters to her mother, but not one of them met her gaze. She sat up and lifted her right hand in the air while she spoke. “No, you can’t make me do it. I’m not a baby anymore, Babba. I’m eighteen and an adult. You have no right to my life anymore, understand?” she said angrily. She rose from the sofa and looked out the window once more. The village children were now racing down the road, orange dust chasing them.

Youssef suddenly leaped up and grabbed onto her wrist, wrapping his hand around her. “Don’t turn your back on me! I’m your father!” he shouted, tightening his grip.

The others lowered their eyes.

“Let me go!” Adele cried out, struggling to loosen herself.

Elias got up quickly and clasped his hand over Youssef’s, attempting to pull it away from Adele’s wrist. “Uncle, let her go,” he said in a quiet, unsteady voice. A few seconds later, Youssef obeyed, letting his hand fall to his side.

Adele rubbed her wrist.

“She’s going through with this wedding even if I have to drag her by the hair to the altar,” Youssef muttered.

“I’m not getting married!” Adele insisted, firmly digging her feet in the Persian rug.

Youssef raised his arms in the air. He lurched his head back and looked up at the ceiling, slapping his hands hard against his forehead. He shouted in Arabic, “Allah, why did you curse me with such a disobedient daughter? Why? What did I do to deserve this?” Finally, he sank down on the chair and hung his head.

Adele crossed her arms over her chest. Elias walked towards her and put his hands on her shoulders. He leaned into her ear. “Adele,” he whispered. “Let me handle this. Trust me. Everything will be all right.” His large eyes were filled with tears. For some reason, Adele nodded, silently agreeing to his proposition.

Elias turned around and faced Youssef. He stood before him, then crouched in front of him, resting his hands on Youssef’s knees. “Uncle,” he began, “you know what’s best. We’ll agree to the marriage.” He looked back at Adele. She hovered at the end of the sofa and felt everyone’s eyes fix on her quivering face. What on earth was Elias doing?

The following morning, Adele left her uncle’s house early and wandered around the village. Of course she would not marry Elias. It was out of the question, she thought as she walked. The sun had begun its ascent into the world again, streaks of soft mandarin and deep red coloured the clouds. She longed to sketch and paint and not think about anything else. When she reached Elias’s home, she looked around the courtyard and noticed that the previous night’s glasses and ashtrays were still sitting on the table. Playing cards were also scattered all over the finely embroidered tablecloth. She walked across the yard, then stood at the door and knocked. She could hear Elias whisper, “I’ll be out in a minute.” She listened to his hurried footsteps as he made his way to the door. She put her hands in her pockets and stared at the orange sand at her feet; a thin layer of dust covered her black ankle boots. Kneeling, she gathered a pebble in her right hand and began to sketch in the sand the mountain in the distance, glancing up and down until she heard Elias’s voice behind her.

Eyeing her curiously, Elias asked, “What are you doing? Playing in the dirt?” A wide smile spread across his handsome, rugged face. He had shaved his beard and the width of his square jaw was now more apparent.

Dropping the stone, Adele brushed the dust off her fingertips and looked up at him. He smiled at her again. She was amazed by his ability to remain content in spite of the pain he had endured, both physically and emotionally. He smiled even though he’d never be able to have intercourse. Adele dropped her head and stared at her belly, the hollowness of it. As she stood up to greet him, sharp aches ran along her stomach. It had been seven months since her operation but the phantom pains still throbbed, reminding her of her absent womb. A deep sigh escaped from her. Then she suddenly felt Elias place his hands on her arms and with gentleness, he lifted her to her feet. She stood before him and inhaled his scent: the smell of soap and fresh laundered clothes. “Come on,” he said, motioning with his head. “Let’s go for a walk.”

A half-hour later, they were standing at the entrance of a cave. From where they stood, the red roofs of the stone houses in the village looked like miniature figurines on a board game. The area around the cave was secluded, encased by olive trees. The river she had lain down beside after learning of her family’s betrayal trickled lazily next to the narrow dirt road lined with weeds that sprouted sporadically along the cracked pathway towards the cave. The sound of crashing waterfalls echoed in the distance. Elias turned to Adele and stretched his arm out, She accepted his hand in hers and when she looked into his eyes, Adele felt her face turn crimson. She hastily turned away from him and looked down at the rocks that led inside the gaping mouth of the open mountain. She hesitated and stepped back.

“Don’t be scared,” Elias said warmly. “I won’t let you fall.”

With that assurance, Adele followed him into the cave. He pulled out a small flashlight from the back pocket of his jeans and the light that emanated led the way as they walked deeper inside. A spray of spring water splattered on their faces and the coolness felt good on Adele’s cheeks. She could smell the freshness of the springs and feel a cool breeze blowing from the entrance through the cramped area. She couldn’t believe how happy she was in the presence of such natural beauty and a man she suddenly cared about. Elias led her to a flat stone embankment where he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it.

She pulled away and murmured, “What are you doing?”

He dropped his arm to his side, then sat cross-legged on the stone. “I’m sorry but I couldn’t help it.”

She sat down beside him and stared at him for a long time. “It’s okay,” she said. “You’re my fiancé, after all.” They burst into laughter, their voices echoing off the rocky walls.

A few minutes later, Elias said, “Speaking about our wedding….” He laughed again. “I have the perfect plan. Let’s pretend we eloped. No one will ever suspect we were never married. I’ll be able to leave my past and start fresh somewhere else and you’ll be able to return to Canada, a supposedly married woman! You can run away and no one will know otherwise. They’ll think you’re with me. They’ll never suspect we aren’t married. It’s perfect. You’ll get your freedom in the ‘proper way’ and I’ll escape the pity the villagers feel for me…” He stopped abruptly, then looked intensely at Adele and continued. “It’s not easy having everyone know that you can’t have sex with a woman.”

Elias’s words stirred her own grief. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “Are you sure you want to go through with this, Elias? It’s a big sacrifice for you. You’ll be leaving the only home you’ve ever known.”

He raised his eyebrows and looked directly into Adele’s tear-filled eyes. “I want to reinvent myself. Go somewhere where no one knows about my accident. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even meet a woman who can love me despite my problem. But mostly, like yourself, it’s my ticket to freedom.”

She smiled weakly and nodded. She understood completely.

That evening, she played along with his plan. Preparations began for their forthcoming wedding. Relatives baked several pastries, chopped bushels of parsley, crushed chickpeas, mixed garlic cloves, kneaded dough into pita bread, carefully placing several dishes of maza in various refrigerators. Unlike her sisters’ gigantic weddings, it was to be a simple celebration. Pretending she was exhausted and needed her sleep for the big day, Adele excused herself to the guest room and undressed slowly. She planned to meet Elias in the early morning hours before the rooster at her uncle’s house had a chance to awaken the entire household. She lay in bed quietly until she fell asleep.

A few hours later, she opened her eyes, lifted her arm and stared at her wristwatch, waiting for three o’clock. She listened to the soft breaths escaping from her sisters’ mouths. She had only fifteen minutes to go and she dared not close her eyes again, worried she would fall into a deep sleep and miss Elias. She crept out of the bed, slipped off her pajamas, and hastily dressed. She tiptoed across the room and opened the door slowly. She turned to look at her sisters, their bodies curled under thin sheets. In the moonlit room, she could make out their figures: Mona’s long, thin legs, Katrina’s rounded breasts, and Rima’s curved hips. She remained at the doorway for a while. Then she looked down at her watch. It was time to go. She glanced at her sisters once more time and repressed the urge to whisper a farewell. With her lips clamped together tightly, she slipped out of the bedroom, down the hallway, and out the house.

The early morning was cold. Adele stood shivering by the side of the road where she had agreed to meet Elias. The darkness of the early hours had not yet vanished. She heard rustling in the fields and she jumped as a lone goat ambled out of the bushes and came up to her. She laughed at herself for being startled by the creature. Then her laughter stopped and her heart began to pound until her breathing had gotten so loud that she didn’t hear Elias coming. He put his hand on her shoulder and she jumped again.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

She turned to face him. He looked pale in the dark, as if he had been the one frightened, not Adele.

“Ready?”

She nodded. Crossing the field, they silently walked to Elias’s car. Adele swallowed and nervously entered the tan Mercedes. She watched as Elias slid into the driver’s side. His hands trembled as he clutched the steering wheel.

Before letting him start the ignition, Adele rested her hand on Elias’s arm. He looked down at her fingers, then into her face. Silence prevailed. Bending her head toward him, she finally said, “Shukran.” Thank you.

He smiled and nodded, then directed his eyes to the road.

The car sped on its way. Still somewhat uncertain about her decision to leave her family, Adele huddled next to the passenger door, staring out into the darkness.

As they approached Beirut, the sun began to rise, spreading yellowish-orange streaks through the dark blue skies. Adele yawned and peered out the car window. The dirt roads they had travelled on through the villages and small towns, stopping at various checkpoints, had now manifested into paved streets and sidewalks, lined with several fast-food chains and fashion boutiques. Neon signs flickered off with the approaching daylight. Adele sat up and gazed at the sea, the waves crashing against the rocky shore that curved around the city. The shoreline was no longer the lush green of the riverbed in the village, but man-made slabs of concrete holding the sea back. They drove on. Adele leaned her back to the door so she could face Elias. He was fully awake despite the two-hour drive it had taken them to reach Beirut; he hadn’t taken a break, except for the time it took them to show identification papers to the military troops at the roadblocks. Adele reached across and stroked his handsome face, his stubble tickling her palm and, for a brief moment, he glanced at her, his full lips breaking into a smile.

She dropped her hand onto her lap and cleared her throat. “We should take a break. You’ve been driving for hours. Let’s get some breakfast.”

Elias arched his eyebrow and Adele noticed a small scar on his dark eyelid. She lifted her hand again and traced the brown line. “A remnant of my accident,” he said. “My body tells that story over and over. Sometimes I forget, or try to, but my body reminds me again and again. That’s my hayat, my life, I suppose. Scars and memories of my experience constantly remind me of things I’d rather forget…” He stopped suddenly, then changed the subject. “What about breakfast? Do you want to eat at McDonald’s? This is what Americans eat, no?”

Adele laughed, resting her head on the car seat. She rolled her face to the side, looked at Elias. “But habibi, you have it all wrong. I’m not American. I’m Canadian.”

“American, Canadian, what’s the difference? Aren’t they the same?” he grinned mischievously.

She laughed again. “Depends on whom you ask.”

“True, true. So, it’s McDonald’s? Or would you prefer a Lebanese breakfast of warm zahter fresh from a stone oven or labaneh and zeitoun rolled up in homemade pita bread with a cup of ahweh?”

“I don’t care much for coffee,” she said, pretending to be difficult.

“Okay, okay, habibti, a cool glass of halib for you. Sounds good?” Elias said, smiling.

“You’re paying, right?”

“You’re the American, remember? You have all the money.”

Adele raised her head from the seat. Gazing into Elias’s eyes, she snorted and said, “Canadian.”

“Ah, Canadian.”

“Since you’ve been driving, I’ll treat you this time. It’s the least I can do. Us ‘Americans’ are rich, after all.”

They burst into laughter once more as the vehicle sped along the busy morning streets.

Elias turned the car into a small alley, barely wide enough for two vehicles. He parked the old Mercedes around the corner. Adele stepped out of the passenger’s side and followed Elias through the cobblestone street, and down a flight of stairs that led to the entrance of a small café. When Elias pulled the door open, the smell of sumac and thyme enveloped Adele along with the warmth of a large stone oven that was radiating heat at the far end of the establishment. Six small tables covered with flower-print tablecloths filled the room. A water pipe was positioned behind the cramped counter where an old man sat on a wooden stool, his eyes half-closed. He looked to be in his mid-eighties; his cheeks drooped and deep wrinkles lined his forehead. Beyond him, two windows were open wide, allowing a gentle breeze to enter the softly-lit, tiny restaurant that was empty but for the old man and one other customer. The old man was dressed in what appeared to be a woman’s polo shirt and baggy trousers common to older Middle Eastern men. He greeted them with a broken smile and a large space between his two front teeth flashed when he opened his mouth. “Marhaba. It’s a beautiful morning,” he said, wiping his hands on the grease-stained apron around his protruding belly.

“It sure is,” Adele answered in Arabic.

“You’re not from here. I can tell by your accent.”

She smiled timidly; she was surprised the old man could tell immediately that she had an accent. She spoke hesitantly and now wondered in the warm heat of the café how she had lost this language that had been her first as she looked at her reflection in the mirrored walls behind the cash register. Her curly hair dropped over her shoulders and her face was unusually pale compared to Elias’s and the old man’s equally dark complexion. Yet, unmistakably, she looked like them.

“Come on,” Elias said, waking her from her thoughts. He placed his hand on the small of her back. She didn’t move away and let his hand ease into her spine. He guided her to one of the small tables, pulled out a chair for her to sit on, and then dropped his hand to his side. Immediately, she missed its warmth. She sat down and she sighed loudly as she followed Elias’s movements, his long legs striding elegantly across the restaurant back to the old man, who handed him a plate filled with zahter and two cups of steaming ahweh.

When Elias returned, she smiled up at him. He stood beside the table and began to serve her as if she were his guest. The aroma of the flat bread powdered with dried thyme, sumac, and sesame seeds caressed her nose. As he placed the dish and coffee cups down, he smiled then smacked his large hand on his forehead. “Oh, I forgot! You’re not a coffee drinker. Back in one moment with your halib.”

Affection filled her heart for this thoughtful man. She touched his wrist and said, “It’s okay, Elias. Sit down. You’ve done so much for me already. Sit and share this wonderful meal with me.”

“Our last breakfast?” he said, slipping onto the chair opposite her.

“I suppose. But does that mean there will be a resurrection of sorts?”

A smile lifted his mouth. “Most definitely. Resurrected from family obligations…”

“And guilt,” Adele added quietly. They ate in silence until the old man came to their table and placed a round bowl of zeitouns in front of them, the oil glistening on the green olives.

“These come from tree in yard at home,” he said in broken English. He also handed them a basket of pita bread. “I make bread too. Well, not right. Wife make bread,” he said, kneading his knuckles on the tabletop. “She make on ground. Hard on knees. She yell every time she do bread. Allah, she say, why you curse me to be woman?”

Adele raised her eyebrows and frowned. She didn’t like this last comment because it seemed that being born a woman was indeed a curse, the worst possible fate. She looked away from the old man and out the window. A few feet away a young man dressed in military garbs with a finely-trimmed beard and crew-cut was standing with a rifle flung over his left shoulder. His slender body bent forward as he questioned people in their cars. She imagined his voice resonant with forced authority. He looked boyish. She guessed he was only a few years older than herself. Twenty-two at the most. Adele sensed the old man’s eyes on her. She turned her attention back to him.

“I say something bad? You mad?”

Adele asked quietly, “Why does your wife think it’s a curse to be a woman?”

“Life not easy for woman. They cook, clean, take care of child, husband. They work hard and for what?” He slapped his hands together. “Nothing. No respect, only grief. A woman lose lots. Husband boss, child make body fat then break it in birth. Not easy to be woman, that why curse. Man have easy life.”

She stared at the man. There was neither coldness nor meanness in his eyes. He wiped his hands on his apron and smiled.

“Now eat. Enough about man, woman. Can’t live with woman. Can’t live with no woman, right? This American phrase?”

She nodded and popped an olive in her mouth.