Part 12 (2/2)

Camilla felt the knot in her stomach again, but didn't want to admit it was there. Her article had been restrained, but she felt a fierce rage at her boss and the sloppy way he came up with headlines. Besides, it never cost him anything, but that d.a.m.n well wasn't the case for her. Here she was, sitting across from the woman they'd maligned who very obviously couldn't take any more pain.

Camilla poured tea into two large floral teacups copied from the best of traditional English style and pa.s.sed one to Sada in the hopes that it would distract her from her crying.

Sada reluctantly accepted it, avoiding eye contact with Camilla as if she was ashamed of her angry outburst. After she took her first sip, she finally said something: ”I have always taken good care of my children.”

Camilla was about to speak when, after a long pause, Sada continued.

”Now they're going to take my children away. But what do you care? You don't understand,” she said, wringing her hands together.

Not caring was not Camilla's problem at the moment. Her boss had sold her out, and it was going to cost him. But she actually did care about Sada too, although she was irritated that the woman hadn't come to see her until now that the article was already written and printed instead of the day before so they could have talked to each other beforehand. At any rate, Camilla began by defending herself in a way that could easily be interpreted as an attack.

”No one needs to understand or accept anyone being abused to the point that they have to go to a women's shelter,” Camilla said. She knew this might put an end to the woman's willingness to talk, but on the other hand she felt it was necessary to indicate where she stood.

But her statement didn't seem to bother Sada al-Abd. The woman just shook her head. There was obviously something else Camilla didn't understand.

”Try to explain to me what led up to your going to the shelter. What I especially want you to explain to me is why you went back to him,” Camilla said.

”Why should I?” Sada asked. ”You're just going to write whatever you want anyway.”

Camilla had certainly heard that one many times before.

”You wrote that I killed my own daughter.” Sada spoke quietly with a determination in her voice. The tears were gone and she seemed almost fearsome.

”I didn't write that you killed her,” Camilla exclaimed indignantly, wis.h.i.+ng that instead of accusing her, the mother would start talking. ”I wrote that you went to a shelter for help and that shortly after that, you went back to your abuser.”

Camilla took a sip of tea and again asked Samra's mother to talk about what had happened when she went into hiding with her children.

Sada drank a little more of her tea and it looked as if she were fighting some kind of battle within herself. Camilla had the sense that the woman across from her really wanted to tell her story, but that she was afraid it might have consequences if she did so.

”I won't write anything until you've given me permission,” Camilla said. ”And I'll let you read through it before it goes to print.”

That was really all she could offer Sada, but it seemed to have an effect.

”My husband got mad at Hamid, our older son,” Sada began. ”Hamid didn't want to hand over some money he'd earned, and that made Ibrahim so mad, he started hitting.”

Camilla sat on the edge of the sofa, listening. She had brought her bag down with her, and she pulled out a notepad and started taking notes. Sada didn't seem to notice and kept talking.

”He was. .h.i.tting Hamid hard, and I tried to stop him.”

”You fled with your children because you tried to come between your husband and your son?” Camilla stated in surprise, a little shaken. She knew that Hamid had not gone to the shelter with the other children.

The woman nodded.

”If it was your son Ibrahim was mad at, why were you the one who had to flee?”

”Samra was also yelling at her father and defending her brother. My husband can get very angry. He lashed out with his hands many times and said he would kill the little ones if I got involved again.”

”And did you?”

”No, but he hit Samra to show that he meant it.”

”Didn't he threaten to kill Hamid?”

Sada looked directly at Camilla and maintained the eye contact for a long time.

”He would never kill his eldest son,” she finally said.

Camilla had her notepad in her lap and sat for a bit, gathering her thoughts. She bent her head back to stop the s.h.i.+vers that were running up and down her spine.

”So you reported him to the police and you all got out of there?”

Sada nodded.

”How could you go back to a man who had threatened to kill your children?” Now she set down the pad, sensing how the room seemed to close in as she asked her question. ”Why?”

Tears began to flow down Sada's cheeks once more. She cried a little without a sound. ”Loneliness,” she finally whispered so softly that Camilla had to lean forward to hear her. ”If I had left him, we would have had no one. I might have been okay, but it wouldn't have worked for the children. Our lives would have been shut out.” ”What do you mean?” Camilla asked. ”You would have been free.”

The thin woman shook her head. ”Freedom is not the same for me as for you.”

Camilla sat motionless.

”I would rather be home with my husband than be free and lonely.”

Camilla didn't understand what she meant.

”Why would you be more lonely when you weren't with a man who would hit you?” Camilla asked.

”If you don't belong anywhere anymore, then you have no one. Then no one will talk to you. You don't get invited anywhere. The children are not allowed to play with other children, and there's not even any guarantee you will get to keep your last name. You will be totally alone, an outcast.”

Camilla was speechless at the way Sada rattled this all off, as if it had come straight from some kind of list of rules.

”Who says all that?” Camilla asked.

For the first time a glint came into Sada's eye that could have been mistaken for a small smile.

”It's not something anyone says. That's just how it is, and how it has always been for those who bring shame to their families.”

”Yeah, but you darn well can't avoid things happening in a family that will make waves, and you don't necessarily have to become an outcast because of it,” Camilla said heatedly. It wasn't that she hadn't heard of honor and shame before, but this all sounded completely crazy to her ears.

Sada sat for a moment before responding, as if she were searching for the right words.

”It's only in the closest family that honor and shame really mean something. If it's someone you don't know, who cares? Then it doesn't mean anything.”

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