Be
happy. Be careful. Here, I have a present for you. Watch it if you
like, don’t watch it if you like.’
Puzzled, I
took the memory stick he offered me. ‘What is it, Lars?’
He smiled
grimly. ‘It’s Hamad Dajani’s goodbye video. A friend of mine in
Jordan TV got it for me. Like I say, watch it if you
like.’
When I had
finished my beer with Lars, I went downstairs and stood in front of
the TV for a very long time before putting the memory stick down by
the screen and going to the bathroom to wash.
The Blue Fig
is a funky art-house café bar in the wealthy Abdoun district owned
by a couple of Jordanian bigshots, all wooden flooring and antiqued
steel trimmings. It’s a popular meeting place – in the summer it
heaves with rich, pretty young things come back from the Gulf. Even
now, early in the cool autumn evening, it was becoming noisy. I
spotted Aisha in a quiet corner away from the bar. She wore the
brown woollen outfit again and I couldn’t help my grin.
‘ I thought
we’d try starting again,’ she said, standing to meet me as I walked
up to the table.
There was a
second’s hesitation – her hand wasn’t held out. I leaned forward
and kissed her cheek, my hand resting lightly on her hip. It felt
like the most natural gesture in the world. She smelled of warm
spice.
She handed me
a little blue plastic bag. ‘Here. I brought you a little
something.’
I opened the
bag. It was a delicate pen and ink sketch of a bunch of olives on a
branch. I wanted to cry.
‘ Listen,
Paul, I owe you an apology. I’m sorry. I guess it was too soon
after my cousin to start talking about all that family stuff and I
just flipped out. I’m really sorry. I thought an olive branch was
appropriate.’
An
uncomfortable, burning sensation seared my throat. I managed to
swallow and keep the tears out of my eyes.
‘ Thank you.
It’s beautiful.’
She smiled.
‘The salsa girls won’t forgive me. I stood them up.’
‘ Aisha, I’m
sorry.’
She leaned
forwards, put her finger to her lips. ‘Shush. Enough.’ She put her
hand on mine and squeezed it, an electric moment of soft warmth. I
felt myself falling into those gold-flecked eyes, our long gaze
driving a thrill through me, a feeling close to fear and yet
ecstatic. Aisha broke the moment first, taking her hand away to
reach for her handbag and fuss for her cigarettes.
I looked down
at the table rather than meet her eyes. I tried to force a light
tone, but just sounded manic. ‘I’ve got my own troubles anyway.
Anne, my girlfriend, is coming out from England to visit me at the
end of next week.’
She froze for
a second, her hand still in her bag. I had told her about Anne long
before, but my girlfriend hadn’t been a topic of conversation
between us precisely because I had avoided bringing it
up.
Aisha looked
up at me and I cursed myself as I saw her strained face, her smile
as bright and brittle as her voice.
‘ You must be
pleased. How long is she staying?’
‘ For the
week. She’ll go back just before the court case comes
up.’
‘ This will be
her first time here?’
‘ Yes. I
honestly didn’t think she’d come at all. She’s very busy with her
work.’
Aisha lit her
cigarette and puffed the smoke high into the air.
‘ You never
told me what she did.’
I fought the
urge to steal a smoke from her. I couldn’t believe Jordan was doing
this to me. I’d never smoked in my life, although my father did.
When he left, my mother threw out all the ashtrays and suddenly
smokers weren’t welcome at home. Smoking never bothered me, one way
or the other, although I tended to avoid smoky rooms just because
of the smell it left on you. And I’d avoided smoky girls because it
is, when you come down to it, just like kissing an ashtray. Which
got me thinking about kissing Aisha and so I blew it and took one
of her cigarettes with a shaky hand.
‘ She’s a
lawyer.’ I said as I lit up. Aisha raised an eyebrow, but I shook
my head.
happy. Be careful. Here, I have a present for you. Watch it if you
like, don’t watch it if you like.’
Puzzled, I
took the memory stick he offered me. ‘What is it, Lars?’
He smiled
grimly. ‘It’s Hamad Dajani’s goodbye video. A friend of mine in
Jordan TV got it for me. Like I say, watch it if you
like.’
When I had
finished my beer with Lars, I went downstairs and stood in front of
the TV for a very long time before putting the memory stick down by
the screen and going to the bathroom to wash.
The Blue Fig
is a funky art-house café bar in the wealthy Abdoun district owned
by a couple of Jordanian bigshots, all wooden flooring and antiqued
steel trimmings. It’s a popular meeting place – in the summer it
heaves with rich, pretty young things come back from the Gulf. Even
now, early in the cool autumn evening, it was becoming noisy. I
spotted Aisha in a quiet corner away from the bar. She wore the
brown woollen outfit again and I couldn’t help my grin.
‘ I thought
we’d try starting again,’ she said, standing to meet me as I walked
up to the table.
There was a
second’s hesitation – her hand wasn’t held out. I leaned forward
and kissed her cheek, my hand resting lightly on her hip. It felt
like the most natural gesture in the world. She smelled of warm
spice.
She handed me
a little blue plastic bag. ‘Here. I brought you a little
something.’
I opened the
bag. It was a delicate pen and ink sketch of a bunch of olives on a
branch. I wanted to cry.
‘ Listen,
Paul, I owe you an apology. I’m sorry. I guess it was too soon
after my cousin to start talking about all that family stuff and I
just flipped out. I’m really sorry. I thought an olive branch was
appropriate.’
An
uncomfortable, burning sensation seared my throat. I managed to
swallow and keep the tears out of my eyes.
‘ Thank you.
It’s beautiful.’
She smiled.
‘The salsa girls won’t forgive me. I stood them up.’
‘ Aisha, I’m
sorry.’
She leaned
forwards, put her finger to her lips. ‘Shush. Enough.’ She put her
hand on mine and squeezed it, an electric moment of soft warmth. I
felt myself falling into those gold-flecked eyes, our long gaze
driving a thrill through me, a feeling close to fear and yet
ecstatic. Aisha broke the moment first, taking her hand away to
reach for her handbag and fuss for her cigarettes.
I looked down
at the table rather than meet her eyes. I tried to force a light
tone, but just sounded manic. ‘I’ve got my own troubles anyway.
Anne, my girlfriend, is coming out from England to visit me at the
end of next week.’
She froze for
a second, her hand still in her bag. I had told her about Anne long
before, but my girlfriend hadn’t been a topic of conversation
between us precisely because I had avoided bringing it
up.
Aisha looked
up at me and I cursed myself as I saw her strained face, her smile
as bright and brittle as her voice.
‘ You must be
pleased. How long is she staying?’
‘ For the
week. She’ll go back just before the court case comes
up.’
‘ This will be
her first time here?’
‘ Yes. I
honestly didn’t think she’d come at all. She’s very busy with her
work.’
Aisha lit her
cigarette and puffed the smoke high into the air.
‘ You never
told me what she did.’
I fought the
urge to steal a smoke from her. I couldn’t believe Jordan was doing
this to me. I’d never smoked in my life, although my father did.
When he left, my mother threw out all the ashtrays and suddenly
smokers weren’t welcome at home. Smoking never bothered me, one way
or the other, although I tended to avoid smoky rooms just because
of the smell it left on you. And I’d avoided smoky girls because it
is, when you come down to it, just like kissing an ashtray. Which
got me thinking about kissing Aisha and so I blew it and took one
of her cigarettes with a shaky hand.
‘ She’s a
lawyer.’ I said as I lit up. Aisha raised an eyebrow, but I shook
my head.
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