First Phone Call
Once it was after eleven, I went out. I motioned to the employee at reception and he smiled. It was the beginning of winter, and I could get by with my cotton shirt and the scarf over my shoulders. The sidewalks were filthy and empty. In front of me was a gravel square and a parking lot. I walked next to the hotel, crossed the narrow alley between the hotel and the adjacent building. I walked until I reached a flower shop. I entered, said hello to the Filipina employee, and told her I’d lost my phone and needed to make a personal call. She pushed the phone toward me and went about her business. His voice came through to me on the first ring.
“Hello? Hello . . . ? Fatima? Is that you?”
“It’s me.”
“Where are you calling from?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“You’re in Salmiya!”
“Yes.”
“Where were you all night?”
“Everything is fine.”
“You’re crazy! What were you thinking, leaving like that?”
“I . . .”
“You what?”
“I’m doing what feels right.”
“You can’t behave like this. You have no right to behave like this.”
“Are we going to fight?”
“What did you expect? For me to plead with you?”
“I have the right to do what feels right. Actually, it’s a crime not to.”
“What about other people’s rights? What about my right to be respected by my wife and for her to answer my calls and not run away from my home when I work like a dog to provide for her?”
I let out a deep breath. “Divorce me and this will all be over.”
“No. Everyone is worried about you.”
“Who?”
“All of us.”
“Saqr?”
“Saqr is worried too. He’s out looking for you in the streets.”
“Liar.”
“How long do you think I can cover up your recklessness?”
“Do you think I’m still thirteen years old and afraid of making him angry?”
“What are you planning on doing?”
“I’m figuring that out.”
“What happened to your old number?”
“I got rid of it. Did you read my letter?”
“I read your stupid letter.”
“I’m not coming back.”
“I can’t talk about our problem like this. Tell me where you are. We can sit down in a café and discuss things. Everything can be fixed.”
I inhaled. Was I crying or laughing?
“What’s wrong with you? Are you laughing?”
“I can’t be fixed.”
“Where are you? I’m coming to Salmiya. We have to meet.”
“Did you sleep yesterday?”
“I haven’t been back home since yesterday evening.”
“You need to sleep.”
“We need to meet.”
“No.”
“Why did you call then?”
“To tell you to divorce me.”
“No.”
“I’m going to hang up.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“I’ll call you in a few days, after you’ve had a chance to think.”
“Wait! Did you take your medicine?”
“Goodbye.”