I can’t be seen next to him, she thought in panic and started walking quickly away, casting anxious glances around her.
Nonetheless, when she’d reached a safe distance, Sual held back no longer and turned back to look at the stranger, who was stepping lightly and confidently up the alley, receding from view. Only a truly free person walks like that, she thought. The American turned left and entered the courtyard of a white-painted building at the end of the alley. The peeling sign above the gate read “Hostel” in English. Of course, Sual knew the place from her frequent walks through the Old City. This is where young backpackers and sometimes members of the foreign press stayed.
Her heart beat fast. She looked around once again to make sure no one who recognized her was around. The murky alley was completely abandoned. Without thinking twice, moving fast, afraid she might have second thoughts, she approached the hostel, yanked at the door handle, and slipped down the interior courtyard to a narrow corridor ending in a staircase.
He was leaning against the doorframe of his room, looking at her. She walked in without looking at him, and he closed the door behind her.
The stranger moved slowly toward her until he touched her. The heat of his body made her dizzy. In a sensual motion, he peeled back her headscarf so that her hair was loosened and lay around her shoulders. Sual didn’t resist. She didn’t want to resist.
When Sual woke up, it was already dark outside. Suddenly, reality flooded back. Scared, she quickly moved the hand lying on her stomach, taking care not to wake him. Sual looked at his sleeping form, engraving his facial features onto her memory, then quickly dressed and slipped out the heavy door, praying that nobody would see her.
With her eyes cast down and the burka carefully covering her hair and face, she quickly made her way back up the alley toward home.
She knew almost nothing about him, except that his name was Michael. Their conversation had been in English, and he spoke too quickly for her high school grasp of the language. But from what she gathered, he was a journalist covering Israel. He said something about there always being a war in this region, so there was always something to write about, and he also said he lived in New York. He smelled of soap. Sual, before even leaving the room, already longed for the tenderness and warmth of his caressing touch.
Back home, she opened the entrance door quietly, praying that the old hag was asleep. Fortunately for her, Mahmud and his father were still at work. Her thoughts meandered back to the events of the last few hours. I’ll never see Michael again, she thought, still not understanding how she’d dared take such a risk. But – oh, how marvelous it had been. She smiled to herself.
No matter what happened, she would have no regrets. She would never regret those hours. For the first time in her life, Sual felt that she, too, had the right to happiness.
Hearing the old woman’s snores coming from the master bedroom, she breathed deeply with relief and climbed the stairs to her room. She took a quick shower, changed her clothes, and when Mahmud and his father were back from work, supper waited for them on the table as usual. Sual served them in silence, exactly as she did every other night.
Sual looked at the floor. Water was trickling down between her legs, creating a puddle on the cool stone floor. “Mahmud,” she whispered, but he turned over on his other side and continued to snore.
A scream of pain escaped her when she felt the first contraction cutting her body in two. She shook her husband hard. “Mahmud, wake up, I’m having the baby.” He finally woke up. Mahmud drove her to the hospital and dropped her off at the entrance, refusing to enter with her. Sual made an effort to remain standing. She felt humiliated, but she couldn’t blame him. Both of them were trapped in an impossible situation. At least he hadn’t beaten her and she had no right to demand more. She hoped that the old crone would calm down after the birth and things might improve between them.
Sual turned around to wave to Mahmud but he’d already driven off.
A nurse eased her into a wheelchair. “Nobody with you?’ she asked.
Sual didn’t answer. The nurse assumed her silence was due to the frequent contractions.
A few hours later, a young doctor in white smiled at her. “You have a beautiful baby girl,” she said, placing the newborn in Sual’s arms.
Sual looked at the infant with the blonde curls and large blue eyes and despaired. Nobody would believe Mahmud had fathered this child.
“What will you call her?” the nurse asked.
“Anise,” Sual whispered, “I’m going to call her Anise.”
Chapter 4
Yam
Amalia walked slowly down Gordon Street. Although she was nine months pregnant, her silhouette remained slim, and from the rear, it was impossible to tell she was carrying an infant in her belly. Her tight T-shirt provided little coverage above the skirt that was slung low on her hips.
She hadn’t seen Yoav since that meeting at the café, when he’d gotten up and walked away, leaving her alone with the pregnancy, not to mention the bill.
Since the evening of their first meeting on the beach, nothing could keep them apart, and Amalia – who’d promised herself not to fall in love before turning thirty – found herself giggling like a girl in his presence. Both of them tended bar to cover their university fees; the little free time they had, they spent together. Yoav helped Amalia study for her finals, while she sat still for hours and allowed him to paint her.
When her period was a month late, she bought a pregnancy test. When its result proved positive, she
