When it is erected to block the sunrise
We might spend an entire lifetime
Drilling a hole so that light would
Just once
Reach a future generation
Without that wall
We would not have learned the value of escaped light
I turned to him and smiled. “By the way, Zayn, I love you.” He hugged me and kissed my forehead. For a few moments, the universe stood still.
My relationship with Zayn was a happy one. I was in love and the complete happiness of it showed on my face all the time. I would meet him outside his house and we would stroll around the streets of Downtown. He would hold my hand and kiss it in the middle of the street. I was filled with pride and intoxicated by his touch. Sometimes I felt that I only loved Zayn because he was a poet and a dreamer. Our relationship was impossible, but I wanted nothing except to love him and be loved by him, and to hear him recite poetry and have him stroke my hand when I was tense or unhappy.
I couldn’t keep our relationship from my father for too long. He sensed that there was someone in my life, so I decided to give him the details.
“Baba, he’s not like anyone else. He’s not like you, so don’t even start on the clichés of looking for a father figure. That would be beneath me and beneath you, so don’t go there. He’s a nice man. He reads me poetry. He loves me all the time, not just some of the time. He is not like other men. I have found him and I will keep him, until I have had enough of him or he has had enough of me or something happens that breaks us apart. You should not find that difficult or ridiculous. This has nothing to do with daddy issues. I don’t have any. I wasn’t looking for an older man so I would find you in his shadow. Accept Zayn, or don’t. He will stay until I decide that he goes, or he decides that I go.”
My father was upset by my assertive speech, by my prejudging his reaction without giving him a chance to speak. He looked at me without saying anything, and after a few minutes he said, “Whenever he decides to leave or you decide to make him leave, let me know. If you want, that is.” I decided that I wasn’t going to argue or sulk or slam my bedroom door like I used to as a teenager. I just said, “OK, I will,” and gathered my things and walked away.
I went over to Zayn’s. I put down my backpack, and took out my tobacco pouch and the small colorful lighter that Zayn gave me to get me to stop using matches. He didn’t like the smell of matches and, although I did like it, I went along with his wish. I took off my jacket and folded it carefully and put it in my backpack. I walked over to Zayn, who was watching me from his place on the sofa, gave him a kiss on each cheek, and assumed my position with my head on his thigh and my legs dangling from the other side of the sofa.
“Zayn, I told my father.”
“Have you heard a Fairuz song called ‘He Brings Me Greetings’?”
“Zayn, I said that I told my father about us.”
“OK. Why is that a problem?”
“It isn’t. I’m just telling you.”
“So have you heard the song I’m telling you about?”
“No.”
“You know what it says?”
Love has come early to our quarters
Carrying stories and tears and joy
All the girls were gathered here
Mama, why did he choose me?
I smiled and put my hand in his. “Why did he choose me, Zayn?”
“Because you are you. You sparkle. No one will ever be able to cover you in dust.”
Zayn’s love grew in my heart. I planted my kisses on his face and engulfed him in my love. I would only spend a few hours at a time with him. I couldn’t stay away from my father for too long. I would go to university, then to Zayn, then back home to my father. Even if we had been arguing, nothing was like settling next to my father at the end of each day, and resting my head next to his beating heart. It was the only place where I could put aside all my worries and tiredness, the stress of the streets, the lecture halls, the traffic—even Zayn’s words would be temporarily forgotten while I enjoyed absolute and utter peace in my father’s arms.
20
I took a heavy coat with me. I didn’t have enough cash, so I decided to go to the airport, where I’d heard some cash machines still worked. I took the thick scarf that usually accompanied me on trips to colder places. I didn’t take the small pocketknife that I had purchased from a fifteen-year-old boy and that I boasted about my ability to use. There were citizen-committee checkpoints everywhere and I wouldn’t want it to get confiscated. I told my father that I was going out. “I woke up early and made some food: the vegetables you like and a chicken boiled without any salt or pepper, so it’s fine for your blood pressure and allergies. There’s also steamed rice, which you’ll really like. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to come back tonight, but I probably will. I don’t want you to spend the night alone.”
“OK. I won’t be going out. But if you manage to come back in the middle of the day to update me on what’s going on, do that. I’ll be glued to the TV. Have the newspapers been delivered?”
“No, but forget the newspapers, there’s nothing in them. Check Al Jazeera or anything that’s not state TV, because that won’t be showing much. I’ll try to come back at some point in the afternoon.”
“Take care of yourself.”
“I will.”
“Don’t do anything
