Bitter Almonds by Lilas Taha Page B

assistant folded the sweater, tucked it on a back rack and apologized. Red Lips joined her friends further into the store to look for an alternative.
    Marwan approached Nadia. ‘Is Omar coming home for Eid?’
    â€˜He called yesterday and said he wasn’t granted a break.’ She knotted her eyebrows. ‘Can you believe that? It’s Eid! Everyone takes a vacation.’
    â€˜The academy has its own schedule. They can’t let everyone go home at once.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets when he caught the others staring at them. ‘Does your family need anything?’
    â€˜No, thank you.’ She passed him. ‘I have to get home. Are you girls done?’
    The one with smudged eyelids pulled on Nadia’s arm. ‘Do you know him?’
    He stepped closer and answered before Nadia could say anything. ‘I’m friends with her brother. And for that, you all get a good discount.’
    The girls snatched scarves, blouses, and cardigans off hangers and piled them on the counters with enthusiasm, as if competing in a race. They giggled and babbled about patterns, trendy colors and styles, making more noise. Nadia hung in the background, her hands occupied with her books. She met Marwan’s gaze and quickly looked away. Her self-composed smile lit up his entire store.
    Nadia walked into the house and took off her shoes, her feet in need of a hot soaking. The smell of freshly baked sweets filled the living room. She went into the kitchen. Mama was sitting on the floor with Salma and Farah. Oven trays filled with date-stuffed cookies were spread around them.
    Mama lifted her head, sweat glistening on her neck. ‘Finally, you’re here. Quick, come clean the kitchen. Your sisters made a big mess.’
    â€˜If I had known you were going to bake
ma’moul
all afternoon, I would not have gone with my friends to Souk Elhamedieh.’
    â€˜Huda was helping and then she rushed out for work, mumbling something about a new client not from around here. I expect she will be late tonight. Did you have a good time?’
    â€˜It was crazy crowded.’ Nadia changed out of her uniform and sent her sisters to play at the neighbors’. She got to work, ignoring her achingfeet. Mama baked the last batch of
ma’moul
and went to wash, leaving her to clean greasy trays and flour-covered counters. She was about to sweep the floor when the doorbell rang.
    A young boy stood before her, bundles of brown paper in his hands. ‘Delivery from Omar Bakry.’
    â€˜Wait here.’ Nadia dashed to the kitchen, wrapped a handful of cookies in a clean towel and returned to the boy. She took his load and handed him coins with the dessert. ‘Thank you.’
    Mama came out of her room, showered and dressed in a clean dress. ‘Who was it?’
    â€˜Omar sent gifts, Mama. Can you believe it? He couldn’t come, but didn’t forget to send Eid gifts.’ Nadia unwrapped the top bundle. ‘Look at these shirts.’
    Mama held a shirt in each hand. ‘Perfect for your father and Shareef.’
    Nadia opened the rest of the packages one by one. ‘This blouse fits Huda, I think. Dresses for Salma and Farah. And this scarf must be for you.’ She opened the last gift. Her hands shook as she pulled out a fuchsia sweater. She dropped on a chair, her heart doing somersaults behind her ribs.
    Mama fingered the items. ‘How do you think Omar managed this?’
    Nadia blinked. ‘It’s possible he asked his friend Marwan Barady to send them.’
    â€˜Omar must have been saving for a while. He thinks of everything, that boy.’ Mama tried the scarf around her shoulders. ‘If Marwan picked them out, he has good taste.’
    Nadia buried her flaming face in the fine sweater. ‘Yes, Mama. He does.’

16
    At the academy, Omar received word from Uncle Mustafa that Shareef’s marriage contract was scheduled for the following day.