Part 20 (1/2)

Madame circled the table to stir garlic into each of our yogurts. She handed me a napkin and I wiped the blood off my phone. It no longer had a dial tone. She handed Abudi a piece of bread.

Baba said, ”There were two hundred of us in one room in prison. There were holes in the walls, and they were not covered with gla.s.s, and there was no heat, so when it was cold, we were cold until G.o.d warmed the weather. Do you hear that? Until G.o.d warmed the weather! And here you think you have a gas problem. In the ceiling, there were two holes where light came in. The light was always on. When I first came, they told me, Take off your clothes,' and they beat me. I was number seventeen. Of course, they learned the techniques from America and Germany-are you listening, Bea? Your country that's so high and mighty, it's b.u.t.ting in, it's imposing sanctions. Sanctions don't hurt the government, they hurt the people.

”A nurse came in and wiped off the blood. There was blood in my underwear. He had to lift my underwear. Then they put me back in the room with the two holes for light, and I was quite happy, I thought, Here I am, there's no beating and there's light. You see how low were my expectations! I thought those two holes were sunlight and I was happy about the light, but they weren't. It was artificial light and the guards looked down on us from the holes and that fake light, so we couldn't move without them knowing, if we moved they would pick us out. The general would watch with the guards from up above. He'd say, You see that man?' The next day, they would call that man out and beat him, and then two of them would throw him back in to us. Of course, we had no way to clean him. We would rub his blood off for him with our hands. Eat your yogurt, Abudi.”

Madame said, ”You're excused, Abudi. Go play in the living room.”

Baba said, ”There aren't death certificates for the ones they killed. Of course, I know who they killed. But there aren't certificates. Of course, that's a problem now, because the deeds of their houses and their shops and cars are in their names, and you can't change those over to their children or wives until the government sees a death certificate, and of course there's no death certificate. Their wives can't remarry.”

Madame said, ”Lucky wives!”

Baba nodded at Madame. ”She came after my trip,” he told me. Meaning, he married her after jail.

”Lucky me,” Madame said, ”lucky for your first wife you came back, so she could remarry.”

”G.o.d provides for us,” Baba said.

Abudi came running in. He said, ”Bea, Nisrine is taller than you are!”

Nisrine was on a ladder in the hall, cleaning the ceiling. I could tell by her face she had been listening.

Baba looked at her. He said, ”She's my problem.”

We all looked where Nisrine was. Until now, I had thought I was Baba's problem, I and my country. He had been talking to me.

Baba looked at Madame. ”Don't get mad at her, Amal, it's not her fault. A policeman fought me and asked for her.”

Silence. So, this was the problem. This was why Baba had come in, angry, mad at Americans who b.u.t.ted in, talking about the consequences of friends.h.i.+ps.

Adel had fought Baba. I felt myself floating.

He had fought, and asked for Nisrine, but I had been the one who liked him first, everyone knew this, and I had been in the kitchen sitting before Baba, my country imposed sanctions without thinking, so Baba had talked to me.

We were all standing. Madame raised a hand, and for a moment, I thought she might run and hit Baba, or me, or Nisrine. I wasn't sure who. Then, she dropped her hand and sat down. She seemed very old in the chair. I saw all her wrinkles, like a balloon the air had gone out of.

Nisrine came down from the ladder.

”I'm sorry, Baba,” she said. ”I'll fix it.”

Everyone should have been mad. No one was mad at the table. Baba wasn't mad anymore, he'd lost all his anger. He had been angry for all of us.

We four sat looking at one another, not knowing what to do. Finally, Madame said, ”Nisrine, go do the ironing.”

”I'll fix it.” But, there was a brightness to her eyes. And all of a sudden, I realized: she had been wanting and asking and waiting. She was unhappy, in an impossible situation. She had asked Baba, she had asked me, we had done nothing- Adel had fought Baba. He had done something.

Baba stood up. He said to Madame, ”I'm going. You need anything?” His hand was still bleeding.

Madame roused herself. ”Right now? Stay awhile, Ha.s.san.”

But Baba was already putting on his shoes. He said again to Madame, ”Don't do anything to her, Amal. She's a good girl.” He looked at me. ”They both are. A policeman asked for her, we need her.” Then he said, ”Lema, get me my socks.”

Baba had not said anything about it, but the air had changed, and we all had a suspicion about where he was going. Suddenly, the divide between us lessened; we all tried to keep him.

Lema rolled her eyes. She finished her yogurt, stalling. ”It's as if he's my husband, not yours,” she said to Madame.

”He's your father.”

Lema brought him socks from the hall closet.

”Bea, what color are these? They look black. I don't want black socks.”

I was still floating. I thought of Baba, being hit by a policeman. I thought of the policeman, asking and asking. I thought, like Nisrine thought, that he had not wanted to hurt Baba. Still.

Baba had been deciding whether to sign a doc.u.ment.

”My G.o.d, Baba,” Lema said for me about the socks, ”you really have a problem with your eyes. They're coal.”

”They're coal. Put them on, Ha.s.san,” Madame said. ”The winter socks are all packed away, you can't have them.”

Baba put the socks on.

Madame smiled. ”You see how he listens to me?”

But, only about socks. Not about staying.

”Because I'm stupid like a donkey. That's why I listen to you. Bea, give me your cell phone.”

”It's OK, Baba.” Don't go. Don't go, don't do anything rash, don't decide because of a fight to sign.

”Don't be silly, I broke it. I'll fix it.”

He held out his hand, and I gave him my cell phone.

”I'm sorry, Baba.”

Madame said, ”Remember us, Ha.s.san. Before you do anything, walk awhile and remember us.”

He asked Madame, ”You need anything?”

And I could have thought of several things: Baba safe, Nisrine safe, Adel safe, a new cell phone, none of this to have happened, we must talk to Adel, before Baba signs, Nisrine must talk to him- Madame shook her head. ”No, Ha.s.san. Your health.”

AFTERWARDS, we watched one another in silence. For a long time, Madame had suspected. Now, she knew out in the open, but Baba had made her promise not to do anything. So, she just watched.

For Baba, it had been easier to blame me, because I was American; in blaming me, he could educate me about America. For Madame, it was easier to blame Nisrine; she was the maid, Madame had already blamed her for so much, and now it turned out that blame was just.

Before, Madame had not wanted to be in the same room as Nisrine. Now, she didn't want to let us out of her sight, she didn't know who we would run and talk to. So, we all sat together in the kitchen, watching the light fade out the window, until eventually Nisrine couldn't sit anymore, and she went to do the ironing in the hall where Madame could still see her. Through the dusk, her eyes shone like stars.

My head was busy with things we should be doing, policemen we should be calling, fixing. Madame watched us.