Part 24 (1/2)

”You did?” So had Imad. Once, Nisrine had given me the role of shepherd. I was surprised. All this time, I'd been envying her the role of Leila, and here she was seeming to want what I had. ”Why?”

”Because he came and went as he pleased. He stayed beside Qais-I know it wasn't romantic love, but he could take Qais's hand whenever he wanted. Leila couldn't do that.”

And then, I had an idea.

I ran to the balcony. Nisrine heard me leave-”What are you doing?” she called, but I didn't answer. I knew if my idea was going to work, we had to act quickly.

The balcony was bright with fresh air and busy streets. I leaned out, feeling the sun on my face, feeling policemen all around- ”Adel!” We could not call his cell phone, because mine was broken and the house phone wasn't for policemen.

”Adel, Adel!”

He wasn't on the roof; he had been down by the street like they'd planned, waiting for her. But, the other men heard me; one of them was dispatched, and soon enough a familiar face appeared.

I waved a greeting. We spoke in short sentences; sometimes the wind took them.

”Where's Nisrine?” he called.

”She's locked in.”

”Locked in? Tell her to come, it's our day, I've been waiting!”

He was gold as ever, sunlight on treetops. I had not talked to him since Baba's interview, but it didn't matter. What needed to be said had already been thought in his direction. While I'd been locked in the house, my worries about him had fallen away.

And so, when Adel appeared on the rooftop I felt only hope, excitement.

From the children's bedroom, a window opened.

”h.e.l.lo, habibi,” Nisrine called, ”we're locked in!”

He frowned. ”Locked in?”

”Bea can't get to her lesson.”

I saw his face fall. I thought, How will we fix this? They seemed destined to always be far away, never to cross the sky between them. Adel's eyes clouded-he had left her in a worse position, and in response, distraction and confusion rose from Nisrine's room.

Still, I had my idea. So, I measured the distance between us with my eyes. It was not far; the street was small, his roof and our balcony close to each other. Close enough, I had once thought, to throw an apple. Or, a man?

I looked around our small s.p.a.ce. There was a clothesline behind me, a firm, thickish rope. I hung on it a moment. It held.

And, my actions seemed to give Adel the same idea. He said, ”Bea, is that line loose?”

It was.

”Throw me an end.”

I unhooked it carefully, while Nisrine watched from her window. There was blood pumping through us-what we were doing was daring, crazy, but it seemed to me then the worst had already happened.

I threw the rope. It made a straight line like an arrow from our balcony to Adel at the station. He caught his end, held it for a moment, considering. Then, he called his friends over; they stood on one side, I stood on the other, keeping the rope taut between us; my end was tied to the metal laundry hook.

He called to Nisrine, ”If you can't get out, I'll come in!”

And with that, Adel did the second thing he had done for love: he swung onto the rope until his feet hung five floors above the garden, and began to slowly make his way, hand over hand, to us.

There is a stillness to life five floors up, there is a slowness to time, when a man hangs, suspended like a small gold leaf, over a city. These were the dangers we faced: That Madame would come home. That the rope would slip-Adel hung far above the world, even though our balcony and the roof were close. That his father would find out. Even if Madame didn't and his father didn't, the neighbors and the other policemen would see.

But, what did we have to lose?

We were already locked in.

Nisrine had already put her trust in this man.

We watched and held our breath. On my end, I felt the rope tense, the weight of it, the distance, as Adel's legs swung out, unhinged. He looked down on a view all his own.

He made his way slowly, sweat running down his face into his eyes and along his neckline. I saw the slippery way his hands gripped the rope. He hung by one arm in pursuit of his lover, who watched from her window and gasped, like I did, when for a moment he slipped, caught himself only with the help of his elbow. His legs traveled across my view of the sun.

But then he gave one last scissoring kick, and it was over, he had reached us.

I leaned down to clasp his hands in mine. He hung just below the rail.

”Help me up.”

Earth rushed toward me, but he didn't need my help. He gave another kick and we both fell, one over the other, back onto the balcony.

We lay together for a moment, his legs on my legs, my head against his chest.

Then he stood up, offered me a hand. ”Where's Nisrine?”

Her door was the next challenge. I brought him a knife and a hairpin to pick the lock. Neither worked. I brought him olive oil to ease the hinges. Finally, when that also failed, aware of the time and that Madame might come home at any minute, Adel beat on the door. He called longingly to Nisrine on the other side. He tore and jiggled with a lover's strength, until the handle came away altogether, the lock slid loose; the door swung jarringly open, and there she was.

I have never seen a lover of mine locked behind a door, and so I can only imagine what Adel felt. I think he was taken aback; he had dreamed of holding her close, but not under these circ.u.mstances.

Nisrine was beautiful, as always. Her veil had slipped off. It didn't matter what else had happened, when the door opened, she bloomed.

For a moment they leaned toward each other, drawn in the same direction like two flowers toward the sun. Then, Adel became shy, nervous-this was the most private place he had ever encountered her, and it was a bedroom. He turned abruptly, breaking the pulse between them.

”Let's get you out,” he said, and ran to the front door, but here even his lover's powers failed him. It was thick wood, not made to be broken.

Nisrine and I stood to one side, watching. She reached out a hand to touch him on his back, then his chest as he worked, but it wouldn't budge. Finally, she said. ”Leave it. It doesn't matter.”

He cleared his throat. ”How will you escape?”