Dreams of Water. Nada Jarrar Awar

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СКАЧАТЬ live and falter, Aneesa decides, in recollection and regret, in the throes of endlessness and the reluctant grace of muted goodbyes. I am hopeless at all of this, at making things work, she says out loud to the indifferent gods and to her fragile, wavering self.

      The bar is small and filled with smoke and people. Aneesa follows behind Bassam as he pushes his way through the crowd to a counter at the far end of the room by a large glass door. Outside are the darkened shop windows of the small shopping mall in which the bar is located.

      ‘This is Chris,’ Bassam says in English, pushing Aneesa towards a man who is sitting at the counter with a glass in his hand.

      The man nods at Aneesa.

      ‘What can I get you?’ Bassam asks his friend.

      ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Chris says.

      He has dark, coarse hair and pale skin and is wearing round wire-rimmed glasses.

      ‘I’ll get us something to drink,’ Bassam says and moves to the bar.

      Someone jostles Aneesa to one side so that she has to reach out and steady herself against the edge of the counter.

      ‘You must be Bassam’s little sister,’ Chris says.

      He looks bored and indifferent and Aneesa decides she does not like him. She straightens herself up and looks round for Bassam but does not find him.

      ‘Don’t worry, I won’t bite.’

      ‘I didn’t think you would,’ Aneesa says quickly and regrets the apologetic tone in her voice.

      ‘I’m just kidding,’ Chris says with a sudden smile.

      Aneesa moves closer to him and leans against the counter.

      ‘What are you doing in Beirut?’

      ‘I’m a journalist.’

      Aneesa has never been abroad and this man suddenly seems very exotic to her.

      ‘Bassam has never spoken about you before,’ she says.

      ‘Oh? We only met recently. He’s helping me with a piece I’m writing about the war for the newspaper I work for.’

      ‘But what does Bassam have to do with the war?’

      Chris clears his throat and looks at her more closely.

      ‘Hasn’t your brother told you what he’s been up to lately?’ he asks with a nervous laugh.

      Bassam returns with a soft drink for Aneesa and two bottles of beer.

      ‘Pepsi?’ He grins at her.

      He looks just as he did when he was a young boy, his hair mussed up a little and his shoulders hunched slightly forward. Aneesa feels a rush of tenderness for her brother and turns to frown at Chris.

      ‘What’s going on, Chris?’ Bassam looks from one to the other. ‘What have you been saying to upset my sister?’

      ‘Nothing. It’s just uncomfortably crowded in here for me,’ Aneesa reaches for her drink. ‘Pepsi, no ice, right?’

      This is how I imagine it happened, Salah. Ramzi and Waddad sit at one of the large tables by the window in the orphanage dining room. It is early evening and the mist is rising from the valley, moving up through the pine trees and wrapping itself around the building. The damp is palpable.

      Are you warm enough? Waddad asks.

      Ramzi pulls at the sleeves of the new jumper she has given him and smiles.

      They have been sitting there for some time after finishing their meal. It is a few weeks into their relationship and Waddad thinks this is a good opportunity to tell the boy about Bassam. She pats Ramzi’s arm, leans closer to him and begins.

      They came to the apartment on a winter morning. There was a loud banging at the door and someone called out Bassam’s name. When I opened it, a group of men pushed their way into the hall and asked for him.

      Ramzi nods his dark head and then holds it perfectly still, as if anxious to hear the rest.

      He used to wake up looking astonished, as if he never expected to feel so alive first thing in the morning. That always made me feel good, that look of surprise on his face, she says.

      Ramzi fidgets in his chair and she hurries on.

      As they led him away, one of the men told me he would be back in a couple of hours, that there was just a small matter that needed to be cleared up. They even let him go back to his room and get changed beforehand.

      I keep thinking, though … I keep wondering why, when Bassam saw them and realized what was happening, why he didn’t escape through the bedroom window. It would have been so easy to slip down to the neighbours and run.

      She lifts her head and looks around the room. The other children are being unusually quiet over their meal.

      I suppose … Ramzi begins.

      Waddad feels her body tense up. Ramzi’s eyes wander and for a moment she thinks he will not continue.

      I suppose Bassam was concerned about you, he finally says, his voice rising as he speaks.

      Waddad suddenly understands what he is trying to say.

      Worried they might hurt me? she asks the little boy in the seat beside her. That’s why you didn’t try to escape, isn’t it?

      It is a few moments before Waddad allows herself to weep and even then, even as the tears fall down her face and on to her limp hands lying palms up on the table before her, she does not make a sound.

      Don’t cry, Ramzi pleads. Please don’t cry.

      The second time Aneesa goes up to the orphanage, she is on her own. She asks for Ramzi and is told by the porter that the children are still in their classrooms.

      ‘I’ll just wait over there,’ she says, gesturing to the inner courtyard.

      ‘I’ll let his teacher know you’re here.’

      She walks over to the plastic table by the young pine trees, wipes the dust off one of the chairs with the sleeve of her jumper and sits down with her legs outstretched. The vine on the trellis above is mostly brown and dry, but Aneesa notices small green shoots here and there. She looks up, squinting in the thin ray of sunlight that penetrates the courtyard and makes shadows of the wiry vine and of the tree branches.

      Moments later, the children emerge from their classrooms yelling in unison. Aneesa looks around and sees Ramzi coming towards her, a ball under his arm. She moves an empty chair nearer to her own and he sits down. For a moment, they are entirely engulfed by the noise around them, and can say nothing to each other. Ramzi’s head is bent down and he is holding the ball close to his chest. His trainers, Aneesa notices, are white and very new. Another present from Waddad. She hears Ramzi take a deep breath.

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