Small Lives Read online

Psycho

  He was late that night. She stayed up waiting for him, wondering what could have held him up. For a moment she entertained the thought that since he knew she was waiting for him, and she knew for a fact that he was aware of that, he decided to tease her by being a little bit late. But it was 11:47, and he would usually be home by 11:20. Yesterday he came home 4 minutes late at 11:24, but that was because he stopped by the nearby mini market to buy a prepaid card to recharge his balance, which made sense because the last time there was a used prepaid refill card in the trash was 9 days ago. But now she he was 27 minutes late and she was getting more worried by the minute for she could only imagine the worse. Her nerves were just about to let loose when she saw the bright head-lights of his Honda shining from the distance. She let a sigh of relief, watched him leave his car and close the door ever so gently, wrapping his face with his black scarf to shield his mouth and nose from the freezing air. Her eyes followed him as he ascended the 8 doorsteps to his front door, chuckled under her breath when he dropped his keys and arched down to fetch them. Then, as he closed his door, she wished him a good night and went to bed with a smile on her face, and all the love in the world that a woman can hold for a man in her heart.

  For the inept eye, it might've seemed like he barely knew she existed, but she knew better than that. There was no doubt in her mind as to how he felt about her, and she was fully aware of his ways; because she knew him very well, perhaps even better than he knew himself. He was too proud to let her catch a glimpse of interest from him, but she didn't mind it; in fact she admired him for that. Actually, there were very few things she didn't admire about him. Had she been a poet, she would probably have written an ode to every single detail. From his thick, brown tufts of hair to his elegant, stylish shoes. Truth be told, she could tell you every piece of clothing he has in his wardrobe, where it was bought from and for how much. She could show you pictures of his different hair styles and how he looks unshaved.

  For 3 years he had been her main project, as if all the passion of her life has materialized into one being, and she knew it from the moment she set eyes on him the day he moved in. She asked around until she got hold of his full name, and that was pretty much all she needed. She embarked on a personal quest, found out where he worked, where his family lived, how many brothers and sisters he had as well as their names and occupations, what college he went to, what his major was, she even tried to figure out the six degrees of separation between him and herself, and since they had no mutual friends, she had to dig deeper to find if she shared any friends with any of his friends. She signed up to every online social network, searching for names and jumping from one profile to another, riveting in every mediocre discovery she made. She waited a couple of months, and after a couple of encounters, premeditated on her part and incidental on his, she felt it was legally appropriate to send him a friend request on whatever online portal he was using. Now she could have a peek, or a little bit more than that, at how he thinks and what he feels. And for that matter, she could analyze it and come up with jaw-dropping conclusions, the mightiest of which was when she discovered after reading a Facebook status message that he was, completely, utterly, head-over-heels in love… with her.

  The next morning after the scare, she woke up with the same smile she sported the night before, and it was for one simple recurring reason: she had a dream about him. She was walking into the house and he was standing there, at first she couldn't see his face as he was looking the other way, but as she approached him, he turned around and smiled at her. It felt so real that it took her a few moments after she woke up to realize it was only a dream, which wiped the smile off her face instantly.

  Right after she got up from bed, she switched on her computer to attend to her daily routine. She opened a browser window, then another 2 tabs in it. She signed on to Facebook, Twiiter and Linkdin, for those were the websites he was active on. He had posted 3 new tweets on Twitter, nothing new on Linkedin, but something new on facebook was promising to make her blood boil. It was a wall-to-wall conversation between him and a girl who had a kitten as a profile picture. She hated people with profile pictures that didn't reveal their identitie, and hated them even more for not posting any public information about themselves. She was so infuriated by the overly friendly discussion between the two that she wanted to know who that kitten was more than she wanted her next breath. She opened her friend list and tried to work out the connection. She started counting their mutual friends, since she memorized his friend list by heart, then she checked every photo album and every profile she could access, looking for clues. Finally and after quite a long period of time had passed, her fears were put to rest as she learned that girl was his married expatriate cousin.

  She laughed at herself for she felt pretty ridiculous, but then she felt guilty for doubting him. What was she thinking? She knew he swore his heart to her, and she knew he had always been faithful, for a perfect guy like him can't possibly cheat on the girl he loved, especially that he knew that no girl on earth could love him as much as she did. But she was so ridden with guilt that she decided to call him and apologize in her own way. She dialed his number, which was the only dialed number on her phone, and after it rang 3 times, he answered. She felt a fresh breath of air washing by her when he heard his voice, and as all their phone calls went, she said nothing, she only listened to him, and after he would give up any hope of hearing her voice, for that brief moment, she would just listen to the rhythmic sound of his breathing. She always let him hang up before she did, so that she wouldn't miss any moment she could spend with him.

  But, as a matter of fact, there wasn't a moment she didn't spend with him. He was with her every minute of the day, occupying every thought she had. Everyone looked like him, everyone sounded like him. Every conversation she had was carefully planned to lead to him or to someone who had even the remotest connection to him. Everything she did was a part of a larger scheme that connected her to him, even when she bought a new pair of shoes she thought whether he would like them on her or not. She'd seen people acting this way on TV, but those were not in love, they were obsessed, and she pitied them.

  Then there came the crash. It started when she noticed he was spending more time than usual away from home. He would be absent for hours on end and some nights he wouldn't come home until after midnight. She tried to make sense of it, but no explanation she came up with seemed to satisfy her merciless curiosity. Little did she know this wouldn't stay a mystery for long, and even less did she know that the sooner she learned the matter, the sooner she would wish she hadn't. It was glaring at her, right there at the restaurant to where she followed him. She was pretending to read a book while sipping a cup of coffee that almost fell off her hand when she saw the gut-wrenching spectacle. And, if that wasn't enough, the changed relationship status confirmed whatever suspicion she had.

  She couldn't believe he could do that to her. Engaged? What about his promises, his unspoken promises? Had the carpet in her room been able to speak, it probably would've screamed in agony under her feet, moving relentlessly between the window and the mirror. She would look out the window at his house with her eyes shooting fire sparks and a most dreary expression that promised destruction. She would then turn around to the mirror, hating herself for being so stupid to trust him so much, and to love him even more.

  "He doesn't deserve me". That was her most recurring thought. She then started this scenario in her head, where she'd bury herself under the blanket and cry herself to death. Her family would make the morbid discovery in the morning: A young dead body with a note that says "I wish you had stabbed me to death". The whole neighborhood would be in shock over the tragedy, including the person who was the reason behind it all. He would come crying at her dead feet, and he would sit by her grave for hours, every day, and his sorry excuse of a fiancé would see the truth and leave him to spend the rest of his miserable, pathetic life alone, drowned in a sea of remorse.

  But as she
pictured them together again, she felt a knot tightening in her stomach to think that they would continue to live their life normally together while she's being eaten by worms under the ground.

  That thought diverted her back to reality, and she was glad it did, because then it dawned on her. How couldn't she have thought of that earlier? She knew he was mad about her, that was out of question. But that's the point! He was afraid she might not be in love with him just as much, so he decided to do this whole act to make her feel jealous. Oh, how silly of her to have doubted him like that!

  After that there was only waiting. She was sure he was going to break up with his fiancé and come crawling back to her, she just wasn't sure when. She didn't feel like he was taken from her, he was hers and hers only. She even felt bad for the other girl; for the poor thing had no idea how she was being used and that she was in for a trauma. She hoped the girl wouldn't be crazy enough to do something stupid, for she knew a little too well what a woman with a broken-heart is capable of.

  More waiting followed. Day and night she looked on from that window, anticipating his every move, monitoring his goings out and comings in, until one day she saw something unusual. It was a convertible car decorated with flowers and ribbons, ad she couldn't find any other explanation. It was the day she never saw coming. Then there was people and music, and then after slightly over an hour of singing and rejoicing they were all gone.

  She stayed up by the window, waiting and hoping that it's all a sham, and that he could show up at her doorstep at any moment and asks for her forgiveness for tormenting her so. But this wasn't going to happen, because an hour or so after midnight the same car came back, but this time there was a smaller crowd and the flowers were wilted. The singing started again along with the tears streaming down her face. She looked on, devastated, unable to think why he would do such a thing. Why would he go all the way and break her heart? As her mind seemed unable to offer any rational explanation, she rushed to a little drawer in her dressing table and pulled out something she's been hiding away for a time like this, despite how little she expected it.

  She pressed it to the side of her head, unable to control her tears, and before pulling the trigger, she thought these bullet didn't belong to her, but rather to the one who made her reach this point of desperation. She reached out of the window, pointing at the bride, then the groom, then she thought again, she was the one who trusted him, maybe she should be the one to take the bullet, and as she pulled it inside, she closed her eyes and pointed the weapon again to the right side of her head, but before she could muster the kind of courage it takes to take one's own life, her mother came in, gently took the blow-dryer out of her hand and put it away.

  The poor girl didn't seem to know where she was. Her mother took her by the hand and made her sit down on the bed. She wiped off her tears with her bare hand, and then looked at her with drooping eyes and a faint smile as she tried to find the least painful way to say what she had in mind.

  "Maya, dear, I know what these occasions remind you of, and I know that you really loved Adam, and he loved you back, and I know that what happened to him was tragic and it broke your heart, but it's been 4 years. I'm not saying you should forget him, I just want you to go on with your life."

  She gave her a hug and then went to fix her a glass of lemonade to cool her down. Maya looked at her mother sadly as she left the room. She had no idea who this Adam was, her mother seemed to be getting senile, she thought.

  She walked again to the window and as she looked at the joyful crowd again, the truth hit her like a bolt from the blue. How couldn't she have seen it before? It was right out there, staring her in the face. Now everything made sense and she knew why things took this weird turn. Now, as she looked at the blushing bride she realized how blind she was to the uncanny resemblance she bore to her. Of course! That's it, he knew he couldn't have her so he went to a woman who looked exactly like her so he can feel every day that he's with her.

  She felt her heart breaking again for that poor girl and how badly she was being used without even knowing it. Yet she couldn't help the sneaking feeling of joy she felt as she thought of the day all this will come to the end and his little scheme will be revealed, and then everything will come apart. He will be broken and lonely, but against all odds, she hoped he knew it in his heart that when this day comes, she will be here, by this very window, waiting for him to come back.

  A Mom's Deal

  “I hate you! All of you!”

  He said the words as he stormed out of the house into the small garden, heading almost thoughtlessly to the shed that sat in the farthest corner away from the house. It has become a frequent scene by now and they have gotten used to it: when he gets angry at his family he gets angry at the world, and that small tool shed becomes his prison of choice where he can let his anger simmer silently until it boils up and overflows, and he could find it in his little victimized heart to forgive them for whatever they did to him, which he usually chooses to forget, if he gets hungry or lonely enough.

  “Come out of there, don’t be such a baby!” His sister’s voice came from outside.

  “Go away!” He yelled.

  “Okay!” She saved her breath.

  He sat there for a couple more minutes before he heard the familiar knocking on the door.

  “This is getting old, you know” His mother’s voice seeped through the cracks in the wood. “What do you sit doing there for hours? We get it, you’re angry! Come out and let’s talk”

  “No!” He fired back. “I’m not coming out of here, ever!”

  “Oh, really? I assume you intend to be raised by cockroaches then, Tarzan style!”

  He cringed at the thought of the six-legged little monsters, but he manned up and yelled again as if she was at the other end of the yard.

  “Yes! At least they will love me!”

  “And we don’t?”

  “No, you don’t. Nobody loves me!”

  “Well, I kind of like you, you’re a cool kid” She replied as he heard her sitting down and leaning against the wooden door.

  He said nothing.

  “Of course we love you, silly!” She said after a beat. “You’re family, we have no choice. I may not like you at this very moment, making me squat under the sun in this weather begging for you to come out, in fact I might even have had thoughts of wringing your neck, but you know I would never do it, because I am your mother, and I love you, it’s in my DNA to love you, so just come out and take some advantage of that already”

  “You’re lying”

  “Okay” She said as she let out a long breath. “How do you want me to prove it?”

  “I don’t know, ask this DNA of yours!”

  He heard her shift her position, he heard the old door creak as she rested her back on it.

  “Okay, let’s see…” She said slowly as if she was preparing a speech. “You know how I told you I wouldn’t buy you that bicycle because it was too expensive? I will talk your father into buying it. I’ll also let you stay up late playing video games tonight, just tonight! And I’ll let you skip school tomorrow. How does that sound”

  He said nothing, he didn’t sound so pleased.

  “Okay...” She said again, as if she was gasping for breath, and then she started again, words flowing out of her mouth as if she was reading off a paper…

  “Tomorrow morning, I will wake you up early, and then you will try to go back to sleep, but I’ll tell you that I made you your favorite breakfast, fried eggs with cheddar cheese, and you will still want to go back to sleep but I will keep tickling you until you get up. We will laugh until I’ll tell you to hush and listen to the sound of birds outside, then we’ll go brush our teeth together because I know you wouldn’t brush them properly unless I watched you. After that we’ll have breakfast, you know which dishes we will use? Those ones I keep in the guest room and we never use because I always say they are for guests…”

  “And we never have guests” />
  “Yes” she chuckled. “We never have guests! Then you will tell me about that funny friend of yours at school and I will pretend to be amused although I don’t get half of his antics. After that we will watch a movie together, I’ll want to watch Beauty and The Beast but you will insist on watching Cars for the tenth time. Then I will try to get you to do your homework but you will want to read a story instead, so we read a story and then it’s lunch time, I’ll take you out for lunch, just the two of us, and we will have your favorite burgers and you will spill ketchup all over your shirt, which will make you feel bad for being like babies so I will squeeze my sandwich willingly that ketchup will drip out of it all over my shirt, just to show you that it’s okay. Then we will have a walk in the park, we will sit on the grass and try to make shapes out of clouds. You will tell me that a cloud looks like a shark, and I will agree enthusiastically although it looks to me like a half-eaten apple. We will look at people around and try to imagine what their stories might be, and when we get bored we’ll just head home where your father and sister will ask us where we’ve been and we won’t tell them, it will be our little totally uncalled-for secret. Then we’ll do your homework together and you’ll tell me how much you like that math teacher and I’ll feel so jealous but I’ll be happy knowing that you’re in good hands at school. Then I’ll tell you to go put on your Pajamas, and you will complain but I will tell you that I’ll make you a Nutella sandwich for dinner and before I know it you will be in your PJs nagging me in the kitchen. After we brush our teeth together you will ask me to read you a story, the same story I read you every night and you never get bored of, then you’ll ask me to tell you some of my childhood stories, and you will laugh until you fall asleep while I ramble on and on before I realize you stopped listening half a century ago, that’s when I’ll kiss you goodnight and pull the blanket up to your chest, which I’ll do three or four times during the night as I’ll keep waking up to find that you pushed the blanket to the floor, and I’ll just let out an impatient groan and then kiss you again on the forehead, while you sleep dreaming of God knows what mystical creatures that live only inside your head”

  She paused, “How does that sound?” She asked.

  “Not bad, I suppose” He tried to sound less pleased than he really was.

  “Okay, great” She said as he heard her get up. “Now get out of this box and come home. I’ll make you a cake”

  He heard her footsteps fade away, when he couldn’t hear them anymore he opened the shed’s door slightly and looked around. It was clear, he got up and ran inside, passing by the living room where his father and sister were.

  “I think it’s about time I removed that shed” His father said gravely.

  “Leave it, apparently it’s helping him cope. You know that isn’t easy on him”

  The father sighed and went back to watching his TV show, but he noticed something missing. He looked around and then realized the boy must have taken it. He walked to his room, knocked on the door, and when there was no answer he opened it quietly. His son was lying asleep on the bed with his back to the door. As he approached him he could see that he was holding the picture between his arms, he lifted it up slowly from his grip as not to wake him up and put it on the nightstand beside him.

  “She must be here to greet him with her familiar warm smile every morning as she used to” He thought to himself as he looked at the picture of his late wife with the black ribbon cross the upper left corner of the photo, then pulled the blanket over his son ,and left the room.

  The Autumn Visitor

  He knew the news he was about to break to her would make her day. Ever since his father passed away last year, and with his two sisters living abroad with their families the house has been so empty and dormant under a grave atmosphere. He knew that she couldn’t bear to have him away from her; hence, it was out of question that if he got married he and his wife would live with her in the same house. So, to tell her that he’d finally met someone would certainly be a pleasant surprise.

  “But mom, you’re crying!” He said, bewildered. A warm smile spread slowly across Alia’s face, as if struggling to make its way through the winding wrinkles that were carved on her cheeks and around her eyes over the years. Those were also the result of the countless smiles she had worn in the past, like those smiles of joy she couldn’t control on her graduation day, or those she worked up on her wedding day to avoid looking nervous. But for the most part, those wrinkles were the result of the smiles she had as she he watched her children grow up, and the scowls of disapproval whenever they did something wrong. This very young man sitting across from her telling her that he wanted to get married was responsible for a fair share of those wrinkles. His first steps, his kindergarten graduation, his first successful attempt at tying a necktie, his first promotion and now, he was getting married.

  “I’m just so happy” She replied in what sounded like a whisper. “Saif, Tell me about her.”

  “Well,” He clamped his hands and started speaking rather shyly, loosening up as he went on. “She’s a friend of a friend. Actually, she’s the client of a friend. You know, it’s a bit complicated but, anyway, we met few months ago in his office and, I don’t know, we just clicked!” He paused for a moment as if waiting for her to say something. When she didn’t, he thought the safest thing to say was, “What do you want to know?”

  “A name would be good, for a start.” She said with a grin, as if to let him know she was aware how nervous he was, she had no idea what he was about to say was going to turn the joke on her.

  “Lina.” He paused for a moment then realized that in this particular situation he was required to provide the middle and last name as well. It’s always like that with old folks who would probably be more interested in the generation they are more likely to recognize. So on he went. “Lina Salah Azmi”

  For a moment, she doubted that she heard the name right so she made him repeat it. As he said the name again, she was rendered speechless. Her memory started to rewind and she was 23 again, standing by the window watching that man walk away for the last time, biting on the sleeve of her jacket so no one would hear her weeping.

  “I think I know her father.” She finally said to him, after a long pause.

  “How well do you know him? Because… he’s been dead for three years.”

  She felt as if an iceberg had fell on her. She wished he could be mistaken, but how could he be? She tried to contain her shock, and with a lump in her throat she managed to utter no more that two words, “Very well.”

  “Mom, is there something you need to tell me?” He asked in a rather worried voice. She sensed his worry, and in an effort to comfort him she tried to detach herself from the raging sea of memories and emotions that have just been unleashed. “I do need to tell you something.” She said, finally working up a smile.

  “I never told you this” She said with a steady voice. “But, 40 years ago, before I met your father, there was someone else in my life. It was a pretty serious relationship, we almost got married, but something went wrong at the last moment, something I don’t choose to remember, and it just didn’t work out.”

  “And, that man was Lina’s father, I suppose?” He asked in a knowing tone. She only nodded in approval and lowered her gaze.

  There was a long silence, finally Saif broke it rather hesitantly. “Mom, if it makes you uncomfortable, I totally understand…”

  “No.” She interrupted. “It doesn’t. It’s just that I thought I would never…” She trailed off to silence again as she couldn’t finish her sentence.

  “Mom, you don’t have to do that.”

  “What if I want to do it?” She said with an effortless smile this time. “Do you know what real love is?

  He nodded as if to say he had no clue.

  “It’s the love that can never turn sour.” She continued. “Love has many forms, and we don’t necessarily perceive them all. When I loved Salah, I couldn’t imagine my life without him.
I loved him deeply, I was sure it was true love, not just a whim, and I knew we had some kind of a bond. At first, I thought it was the bond you feel you have with the person that you’ll share your life with, but when it turned out that it wasn’t, I knew we still had some sort of connection. I cried when he left me, but I believed in my heart that it was all for the best, and I prayed for him from all my heart. I knew I have lost him as a life companion, and I knew I could fall in love again, but the love I held for Salah was turning into another feeling, the same feeling that makes me happy today that you want to marry his daughter.”

  “Saif,” She said as noticed that he wasn’t yet relieved. “You must know that I loved your father dearly, and I have never betrayed him, neither with my heart nor with my thoughts.” She shifted in her seat and put on a less serious face. “So, when am I going to meet her?”