Rebels by Accident by Patricia Dunn Page B

company, Sittu.” I don’t even like climbing a stepladder.
    â€œ Yalla ,” Deanna calls down to us. She’s halfway to the entrance already. Several tourists with cameras banging against their tank tops turn to look at her. She’s right: they do look like nimrods.
    â€œYou’d better get up there before Deanna cracks the stone with her yelling,” Sittu laughs.
    â€œI’m a little tired,” I say. “Maybe another time.”
    â€œAre you sure?” Hassan asks.
    â€œVery,” I say.
    â€œShe’s going. Stand up and go with Hassan.”
    â€œBut, Sittu…”
    â€œStand up,” she says.
    Even though I don’t want to, I follow directions.
    She grabs my hand. “You listen to me: never, ever let fear stop you from living life. Trust me,” she says. “Every fear you don’t face bites your ass in the end.” She looks over at Hassan. “Excuse my language.”
    â€œNo problem,” Hassan says.
    â€œDo you understand me?”
    â€œI didn’t say I was afraid.”
    â€œYou’re not?”
    Before I have a chance to answer, Sittu says, “Hassan, take her up.”
    Hassan and I climb to where Deanna is waiting. I keep my eyes focused on his cute butt, so I don’t think about looking down.
    â€œHey, you okay?” she asks, and I’m sure she sees I’m trying very hard not to cry.
    â€œWhat happened?” Deanna looks at Hassan.
    â€œI don’t want to do this,” I say, tears escaping down my face. Sittu pulls a handkerchief from her pocket and hands it to me, and this brings the tears in full force.
    â€œWhy are you crying?” Deanna asks, lifting up my sunglasses.
    â€œHer sittu insists she climb to the top with us,” Hassan says.
    â€œYou’re afraid?” Deanna asks.
    I nod.
    â€œThen you don’t have to come with us.” Deanna puts her arm around my shoulder. “I’ll talk to Sittu.”
    â€œYou have a lot to learn about this culture,” Hassan says.
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?” Now I’m surprised by how irritated Deanna sounds.
    â€œMy intention wasn’t to offend, but Mariam needs to understand her sittu acts this way because she loves her.”
    â€œLoves me?” I say.
    Hassan takes the handkerchief from my hand. “Trust me.” He wipes my cheeks. “She loves you.”
    â€œWell, maybe she should love me less… Shukran ,” I say, taking back the handkerchief.
    â€œListen, Mariam,” Hassan says, “I know it’s hard for you to understand. You may live a world away, but you mean the world to your grandmother.”
    â€œI have no idea what you’re talking about.” I wipe my face.
    â€œWell, I think Hassan is trying to say maybe Sittu’s afraid to love you too much because she knows you’re going to leave.”
    â€œExcuse me, Deanna, but Sittu already loves Mariam ‘too much.’”
    Deanna and I just look at Hassan.
    â€œI think,” he says, taking off my sunglasses and looking me in the eyes, “your sittu loves you, but she just may not show it in a way you understand. You see, sometimes we are hardest on the ones who mean the most to us. Our expectations are higher.”
    I think I understand what he’s getting at. It’s not all that different from the way Baba and Mom treat me sometimes. They have such high expectations for me that I never feel like I’m living up to them.
    â€œWell, for the record, it’s not just an Egyptian thing. My mother’s on my case all the time,” Deanna says.
    â€œI suppose this may be one of those universal principles.” Hassan smiles at Deanna. I can see from the way she looks back at him that all is forgiven.
    I blow my nose in Sittu’s hankie.
    â€œAre you calling the mummies to life?” Hassan jokes.
    I can’t help but crack a smile.
    â€œ Yalla ?” Hassan