Small Lives by Ola Eliwat

  ***

  She made sure she looked her best on the day of the visit. She wore a classy gray Lenin jacket dress, one she was saving for special occasions, and made sure she matched it with the right scarf and shoes. Saif too spent a little more time than usual getting ready, but finally they were set and driving to Lina’s house, speaking very little on the way.

  Her heart was pounding so fast as they rang the doorbell that she felt it was going to jump out of her chest. She found it weird that she was more nervous than Saif was. She tried to imagine the feeling the house would give her. She thought she’d smell him in every corner and hear his laughter in every room. She thought of his daughter, perhaps she bears a resemblance to him. She thought that the first thing she’d see in her was him, and she was a bit afraid that her tears would betray her.

  The door opened and a young woman was there to welcome them. Alia wondered who might she be since she was almost certain she wasn’t Lina. An elder lady was standing beside her and invited them in while they exchanged formal greetings.

  There was nothing in the house that reminded her of Salah, and the young girl who actually turned out to be Lina looked nothing like him. She couldn’t see a trace of him anywhere, even his distinctive scent was totally absent.

  As the four of them chatted, Alia tried to look as little distracted as she could while she looked around the room for any trace of him. Finally, her eyes rested upon a framed picture on a stand in the far corner of the room. It was a black and white picture of a young man in a suit. She wasn’t really aware of the conversation when she interrupted to ask who he was.

  “That would be my husband, Salah.” Said Lina’s mother. “He was quite a hunk as a young man. Wasn’t he? If you look closely you’ll probably see how much Lina looks like him. She’s the only one among my children who inherited her father’s hazel eyes”

  Alia smiled and nodded at this, avoiding to look in Saif’s direction, but he knew what it was about. It was not him.

  For the following few days, neither of them brought the subject up. Saif sensed her mother’s disappointment as she lost what she thought was the last link to a past she cherished. How didn’t it occur to them that there could be more than one person with the name Salah Azmi?

  She tried to busy herself and act as if nothing happened. Saif seemed to respect that, and he seemed busy too working out the engagement arrangement with Lina, she assumed. He would make calls all day long and stay out for hours without saying where he was going or from where he was coming.

  A lonely feeling started to haunt her, and she felt like talking, but Saif was never home and he was the only one she cared to talk to at that time.

  One afternoon Saif came home early from work. She thought he had to run some errands to get some things done before the engagement party. Instead, he told her to get dressed because he wanted to take her somewhere he wouldn’t disclose.

  She dressed up in a rush and they set out. She asked him where he was taking her, but he kept telling her to be patient. Finally, they pulled over in front of a small semi-villa with a big garden worn out by the early fall.

  She stepped out of the car and walked behind him, as if she was hiding from something. Saif pressed the button on the intercom and made himself known. Then, the gate opened to a long paved path lined with the bronze leaves falling from the garden trees. They walked to the door where an elderly lady was waiting for them.

  “You must be Alia” The elderly lady said. “Your son told me you and Salah were close friends. Please do come in, he’s waiting in the living room.”

  “Let’s hope it’s the right one this time.” Whispered Saif.

  Alia was too dumbstruck to speak. She tried to say anything out of courtesy but words betrayed her at that moment. All she could think of was Salah, as young and alive as the last time she saw him, waiting for her inside. But that image was soon to be scattered seconds before she entered the room.

  “I don’t know if your son told you this, but…” The elderly lady paused for a moment before saying this. “Please don’t feel bad if he doesn’t remember you. Salah has been suffering from dementia for some time now, he doesn’t even remember his own children.”

  Alia was mesmerized, and for a moment thought of going back without seeing him. Could she bear it if he didn’t remember her?

  Yes, she could bear anything for this, she thought.

  He was nothing like the last time she saw him. He was too thin and nothing was left of his locks of thick black hair but a few gray tufts. His face was even more wrinkled than her face was, and his hands were two maps of protruding green and purple veins. There was a woman in her mid-thirties sitting beside him. She looked like a young version of the elderly lady who met them at the door, and she introduced herself as his daughter, Fadia.

  Alia approached him slowly. Fadia gave her a curt nod, then moved closer to him and said with in a loud voice as though to make sure he heared her, “Dad, this is Alia. You remember her, right?”

  “Alia?” Salah said as he studied her face. Her eyes narrowed as if he was trying hard to remember who she was. At this point, Alia could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, but she struggled to hold them back. She wished he’d remember her and they would recall the tiniest details of their past together.

  “Ah, Alia.” He finally said, and her heart sank within her. She was just about to say something when he turned to his daughter and said, “She’s a good woman, she was my mother’s closest neighbor and they baked bread together.”

  Alia stopped in her tracks for a few moments as Fadia shook her head in dismay and gave her a look of consolation. “Sorry, he’s memory is just total mess.”

  Alia had no response to that but the tears streaming down her face. She excused herself and thanked his wife then walked out in a hurry without even waiting for Saif to follow her. He raced her to the car, telling her he was sorry. She looked at him for a moment, clueless as to whether he should really be sorry or not. But just before she could make up any thought, a voice called her from behind.

  It was Fadia, she was running behind her begging her to stop. Alia turned around and faced her, thinking she wanted to give her something that might have slipped from her in the house.

  “I’m so sorry for this, Mrs., Alia. I know it must be hard” She said as she seemed to struggle with the words. “My father’s memory might be a blur now, but few years ago when he was more lucid, he told me all about you. Everything.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “He told me how you met and how much he was fond of you. He said you were a great woman, and to tell you the truth, I felt a bit jealous to think that he may have loved you more than he love my Mother, but he told me it was different.”

  Alia had no idea what to say, and she no longer felt the tears on her face. Fadia stood speechless too, and at last figured out she’d better excuse herself and go back inside. Alia remained standing still for a moment, then she glanced at Saif who was waiting for her in the car and motioned for her to get in. She walked with slow steps, but before she stepped in, she turned around and yelled at the top of her lungs.

  “Wait!”

  Fadia turned around just before the gate closed.

  “Why did he tell you about me?”

  Fadia smiled and lowered her gaze to the ground.

  “He knew his memory was fading away,” she said with what sounded like a sigh. “He wanted to make sure some things weren’t lost along with it. Some things are worth being remembered.”

  For a moment, Alia lost the sense of time and place, the wrinkles disappeared from her face and she was standing by the window again, looking at the same young and strong man, but this time she didn’t hear herself weep; the only sound she could hear was a voice in her head that said over and over:

  “Some things are worth being remembered.”