Part 18 (1/2)

Imad looked at me. ”I'm sorry, Bea. I didn't mean it.”

I went over and sat down by Imad on the weight machine. He laid his head on my lap. He had warm breath and a soft mouth, like a garden. There was a little bit of product in his hair.

Imad reached up and pulled my curl. ”Arabic hair,” he said. ”Did I ever tell you, your hair looks like Arabic?”

”It does?”

”Like Leila's hair in the astonis.h.i.+ng text. It always surprised me, in that text Leila hardly has a role, she leaves after the first page, but you feel her everywhere because of the way the words are written. They curl just like her hair.”

”Leila had curly hair?”

”That's how I imagine her.”

I had always thought of Leila's hair as straight, like Nisrine's. I reached up to touch my own hair. I felt around my ears, to see if it was frizzing.

”Imad, what's the astonis.h.i.+ng text like?”

”Beautiful. Astonis.h.i.+ng, like they say, I can't describe it. Don't worry, you'll see it.”

It didn't seem like I'd ever see it. I wanted to, so much.

”Did you cry when you saw it?”

”Bea, I had just come back from London. I was on leave, my father was sick, and I had to decide whether to stay with my father, or go back to London to finish my studies before my visa ran out.”

”So, you did cry.”

”I cried. In the text, after Leila leaves, Qais wanders around until he finds a shepherd who cares for him. It taught me about love, I guess. Not just romantic love, but other kinds. Family love. That one form of love is dreaming about someone, and another is staying with them.”

I looked down at Imad's slick hair, his fine eyes and nose, like a sand hill. In London, did his nose fit in? I thought about Security and all Imad had given up in London, to stay here with his family and students, with me.

”Imad, if you were going to be a person in Qais and Leila,' who would you be?”

”I don't know, I guess the shepherd.”

”Really?” Imad had just mentioned him, but still, it surprised me. That was the character Nisrine had given me what seemed a long time ago now, when I was looking. I liked the shepherd, he was a good man, but I still secretly wanted to be like Leila; I a.s.sumed Imad would want to be like Qais.

Imad shook his head. ”Qais went crazy for love, and then he lost her. But the shepherd, he knew about friends.h.i.+p. He cared for Qais in the wilderness, and some say he's the one who kept Qais's poems. He stayed with Qais his whole life.”

”He did?”

Imad nodded.

A keeper of poems. Someone who knew about friends.h.i.+p. I put this aside to think about later.

Imad asked, ”Did you get your ears pierced, Bea?”

”Yes.”

He fingered my earlobe, lightly. ”I like it. Blue looks good on you.”

I didn't have f.c.u.k underwear like Imad liked. I only wore white Hanes that Madame said looked like a grannie's, and Nisrine was always complaining she must bleach. I didn't have nice underwear, and I wasn't graceful the way I imagined Leila was, or Nisrine was, even when she cleaned. But here in this room, on this weight machine, I was all Imad had. And, he was all I had, too, so we kissed.

I opened my eyes. Imad was looking at me, his hand in my hair. Then, because it was soft and warm, we closed our eyes and did it again, and again.

So this was how it felt to be a lover, Leila.

Imad brushed his hand over my neck, along my collarbone, under my chin. ”I like you with earrings,” he said.

I said, ”So does Madame,” which made him laugh.

Imad walked me home. He made me promise I'd come again on Friday, even though I didn't have a lesson, so we could go to the National Library together before his interview with Security, to finally see the astonis.h.i.+ng text.

”Really?”

”If they let us in,” Imad joked, ”maybe I can kiss you in their cage.”

I took the stairs up to Madame's instead of the elevator, to try and savor my light, giddy feeling. On my lips were Imad's kisses. On my lap, his moist hair product. In my head, the astonis.h.i.+ng text.

When I got in, there was a message that my mother had called. News of the sanctions and gunshots had traveled all the way to her, and made her worry.

”I keep hearing about unrest,” she said when she called back. ”Is everything OK?”

”Well,” I told her, ”Maria left.”

”Who's Maria?”

”The other student from my lessons. It's just me in cla.s.s now.” When I said this, I couldn't help smiling. I still tasted Imad's kisses. But, my mother took it differently.

She said, ”You know, Bea, there's a family reunion in May. You could leave, too.”

”I'll still be here in May.”

”Yes, I know, but it's a big reunion. Maybe you'd like to come home for it.”

”Come home early?”

You're all I have left, Imad told me. We'll see the astonis.h.i.+ng text.

”For the reunion. You can always go back afterwards. Think it over, OK, Bea?”