Forty-two
[Adam]
Leen and I take a Taxi to the hospital where Dr. Herrmann, who's supposed to check Leen's eyes, works. We wait about ten minutes before we're called in. We take a seat at his desk, and he greets us in English.
A nurse knocks on his door and comes in, she asks him something and he replies. Meanwhile, Leen faces me and says, "Someone needs to learn German." I laugh.
"So," Dr. Herrmann returns to us, "May I examine you Mrs. Khateeb?" he asks checking her file.
"Sure," Leen says getting up and I hurry to hold her. I take her to a chair on the other side of the room and she sits down. Dr. Herrmann takes a close look at her eyes, parting her eyelids further and looking carefully. He then examines them again using a beam of light. He keeps asking her questions like if she gets any severe headaches and if her eyes ache sometimes. She gives him answers, pausing occasionally to think.
"Okay, then," he says returning to his desk and I walk up to Leen. "Mr. Mustafa, I think we need to be talking about surgery." I swallow, noticing that Leen does the same. Well, we knew it obviously called for a surgery, it's just the shock of the word being spoken by a specialist that's scary.
"Yes..." I wait for him to go on.
"We'll need lots of tests before operating, and only then we can tell a percentage of success."
"Okay," I nod. "I just want to ask you if you already have any idea for now."
"My own opinion says, it's a thirty percent."
"Thirty?" I almost whisper.
"W-what if it doesn't work?" Leen asks. "What happens then?"
"Nothing," Dr. Herrmann replies. "There are no severe side effects."
"Okay," she replies. "Thank you."
"Thanks Dr. Herrmann," I shake hands with him before leaving.
On the way back, none of us says anything. I'm not sure if we're trying to focus on our thoughts or read the other's mind. I'm not sure we want to talk about it now.
Once we enter the lobby we find Mariam waiting already.
"What happened?" she asks worriedly.
"She needs a surgery," I say.
"And?"
"The probability of success is thirty percent," Leen says emotionlessly.
"Well, that's great! Thirty percent is a big number!" Mariam says cheerfully surprising both of us. I think for a moment that maybe she's trying to sound happy to cheer Leen up, but when I look at her face, she looks genuine. She is optimistic.
"Thirty is a big number?" Leen asks while I stay silent.
"Of course it is!"
"Then what about seventy?!" I suddenly snap, soon regretting it.
"Thirty is bigger than ten and twenty and even zero," Mariam says in a scolding tone. "Thirty is hope," her pitch rises a bit as if she's about to cry. "Even zero could still be a hope, because these are just human numbers, no matter how scientific and accurate, Allah can change everything in a matter of no time."
I bite the insides of my mouth shamefully and bitterly. I take a step towards that elevator then turn back to Leen who can't see me. "I'm going to the room." She nods.
I sit silently on a chair by the balcony. Whoever would see me would say I'm emptied of life and accordingly thoughts, but I don't think my head has ever been more crammed.
What if she never sees again? Will she have to live the rest of her life depending on people, because I won't be the only one, and I hate the fact that she will have to bear with everyone and anyone in order to get things done. No matter how hard I try to, I can never be there for her all the time, I will have to go to work at least five hours a day some days, I might have to travel for business sometimes. Giving up being a pilot doesn't guarantee my staying with her 24/7. And thinking more realistically, what if I die before her?
I will never be always there. Never.
Ahmed knocks on my door and I let him in.
"I heard from Leen," he says apologetically.
"Umm," I nod briefly.
"And Mariam's right by the way," he says with a hopeful smile, "thirty is a number to be hopeful about."
I receive a Whatsapp message and open it to find it's an audio message from Leen. I wait till Ahmed is gone and listen to it.
"I had a dream yesterday that both of us were walking with dema and buying her toys and stuff. Isn't it strange that it was you and me not even Jenin and me? We were very happy by the way. We were laughing all along, and I woke up disappointed that it was only a dream..."
My lips quiver by the end of the message. I hold the phone tight, feeling my chest tighten, my throat ache, my eyes sting. I draw both my hands to my face and I sob into them. I have never been so suffocated since my father died. It is painful that feeling of helplessness; it's like your body is exploding with aches and anger, and you're sitting there calmly, all you can do is cry some very bitter tears. Merciless ones.
That night, sleep never visits Leen and me. I lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling while Leen stays on the balcony, savouring the chilly night air.
"Leen," I call, but get no answer. I call again and she doesn't reply as well. I get up and walk to the balcony to find her on one of the chairs, with earphones in her ears. I take them off and smile at her although she cannot see it.
"What are you listening to?" I ask.
"Surat Taha," she says, straightening in her chair.
"I cannot sleep," I admit.
"Neither can I."
"What should we do then?"
"Mmmm," she thinks for a while. "Read something for me?"
"Sure, what should we read?"
"What books did you bring?" she asks.
"What you asked me to bring, And The Mountains Echoed and I've Got Your Number."
"I've Got Your Number is too girly, being the thoughtful wife I am, I won't let you read that for me."
"Being the what? Honey if you cared about me you wouldn't have brought it along from the beginning. You brought it knowing that I'll read it for you."
"Ah, you got me," she smiles sheepishly.
"I think I'll have to read it for you," I say in the dazzlement of her smile, and she just laughs victoriously for getting her way.
"If I could go back in time," I read from the book, "that's the moment I would march up to myself and say severly, 'Poppy, priorities.' But you don't realize, do you? The moment happens, and you make your crucial mistake, and then it's gone and the chance to do anything about it is blown away."
"I feel like that now," Leen interrupts me. "I've made a crucial mistake and I'm paying for it now and there's nothing I can do."
"Who said you've made a mistake," I say gently, "accidents are not mistakes, fate is not a mistake, it's ought to happen, no matter how cautious you are."
"That's it," she nods, "cautious," she says it slowly and illustratively using her hands. "I'm not cautious; I wasn't cautious when that happened."
"You know I'm always mad at you when you're clumsy--which most of the times you are--but at that time, when I saw you lying on the hospital bed, when later on you opened your eyes and did not see, I wasn't mad at you. Maybe it really wasn't a mistake, that was going to happen anyway. I'm mad it happened to you. I just don't know what I'm mad at. I'm mad at the other driver, who haven't even shown up afterwards, I'm mad at the Egyptian traffic, I'm mad at where we live. Everything about those things is a mistake, and that maybe neutralises your own incautiousness." I pause for a few seconds looking for words that would describe me better, or maybe waiting for a reaction from her, indicating whether she understands what I'm trying to say. However, all I see is a blank look on her angelic face. "I don't make sense do I?"
"What you said wasn't totally clear," she nods. "But if puts me at ease somehow."
"We're going overboard anyway," I say, "the girl only lost her ring in the book and we're here having a complex debate about some deep subject." She chuckles.
I smile and continue reading for her.
I read about fifty pages when both of us start feeling sleepy, and my throat feels dry by that time as well. I put the book down on the bedside table with a soft and light thud and rest my head on the feathery pillow, which almost immediately swallows it.
"Adam?" she calls.
"Yes?"
"Why do you think we don't have children till now? We've been married for quite a while."
"I'm okay with it," I shrug.
"Y-you don't want children?"
"Of course I do want children. But as long as we are fine, I'm okay with whenever they come. Maybe it's delayed because Allah knows we wouldn't have been able to look after them right now, being too busy with you."
"Yeah," she nods against her pillow. "That makes sense. . . But does that make you love me less?"
I turn my head to look at her and wish she could see me rolling my eyes, "Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm not," she says defensively. "It's been a while since you said it last time, so I was wondering."
"Do I have to say it everyday?" I smirk.
"Yes you do! I say it all the time!"
"Because you are childish. Besides, haven't you always said actions are more important than words?"
"Well, words are not bad either!"
"Okay. . ." I say lightly.
"Just 'okay'?" she says impatiently.
"What's wrong with 'okay'?" I ask, trying as hard as I can not to sound like I'm smiling--which I actually am.
"Say: 'Leen, I love you.'" she says like a teacher; I guess she can never really quit her job.
"Leen, goodnight habibti," I say turning to the other side and pulling the duvet.
"You--" she says unbelievingly, "seriously!?" I smile and close my eyes.
I wake up the next day feeling an awful headache. I get up from the bed with difficulty and pull my legs to the bathroom. I wash my face with cold water and brush my teeth then come out to find Leen sitting on a chair in the balcony.
"Morning!" she says turning around to face me. It's scary what blind people can hear. Seriously. I was walking absolutely soundlessly--at least that's what I thought.
"Morning," I say with a sudden grimace at the headache.
"What's wrong?" she asks, getting up and walking towards me. She can even hear my face expressions in my voice. I guess people who do not see are not easy to hide anything from, they are better at catching people than we are, their concentration ability is pretty amazing, their reflex actions and level of accuracy is unbelievable.
"I have a terrible headache," I say holding my head, thinking it will probably explode or shoot off.
"I put the painkiller Ahmed brought in the drawer, wait I'll get it for you."
"Okay."
I wait as she fishes around one of the drawers. She finds it and walks with her hand in front of her, hanging low, not to run into anything. She hands me the medicine and I take a pill followed by a glass of water that has been on the desk.
"Lee, massage my head," I say holding her arm before she leaves. "It might make it better."
She smirks and pulls her hand away playfully, "You were really mean last night, why should I help you?"
"You can't be that bad!" I exaggerate.
"You started it," she shrugs.
"Ugh," I roll my eyes. "Fine, whatever."
"I'll massage your head when you say it."
"I won't," I smirk.
"Fine then," she walks towards the balcony again.
Well, I loved messing with her, but I really need the massage right now. "Lee! Saranghae!"
She laughs loudly--really loudly. "You're amazing, seriously!" She walks back to me and I catch her midway. I guide her to the chair at the desk, and sit on the floor in front of her.
"Now work," I say leaning my head back on her knees, and she starts massaging my head with her long and slim fingers delicately. Her hands are cold, dropping down the burning temperature of my own forehead.
She keeps doing that for a long time, and meanwhile the painkiller starts working as well and I gradually feel better.
"Do you wanna watch a kdrama?" I ask her.
"Watch?" The thing is, we haven't really watched anything or even turned on the TV at home since the accident. But why not? She can still hear, and I can tell her what's going on.
"Yeah," I say enthusiastically. "What about you re-watch That Winter The Wind Blows?" I remember Mariam watching it like Leen before we got married. I remember it was about a blind girl.
"That?" she asks absentmindedly. "Did you watch it before?"
"I saw Mariam watching it once, long time ago."
"It's about a blind girl," she says almost to herself. "Should we watch it?"
"I think we do," I nod. Mariam has told me the entire plot when she was watching it. I remember lying on the bed, trying to sleep, when Mariam would break into the room and keep telling infinite stories, about her friends, her friends' friends, her friends' husbands and fiancés. She once told me about her friend's golden fish, I'm not kidding. She would talk all the time I'm home, since we were kids, she just talks, all the time, about anything. When she was watching that drama--or any drama or movie or cartoon by the way--she kept me updated with the events, like I cared, or actually fully listened. But I remember some of the things she had said about that drama. The girl, Oh Young, lives with her father's secretary, she's a tough woman, whom the father has chosen over Young's mother. The mother left the house with Young's older brother, Oh Soo, when they were too young, and they haven't met since then. A while later, the girl became blind. All the time it talks about how people use her for the fact that she can't see, although she's really smart. It shows her insecurities as a blind person, her innocence, and how she gets in trouble because of her handicap. However, it shows how blind people are still capable of living through the hardship, how their life never stops just because it's dark. It shows they can still read and use the computer and smartphones if they learn to. Oh Young talks about her handicap all along in a bitterly sarcastic way, she's so realistic, she says what's on every blind person's mind. Leen will connect to that; she will relate and she will feel it in her bones, and she needs that. She needs to know her life is not easy, she needs to know the not-so-beautiful truth. But she also needs to know that her life goes on whether the surgery succeeds or not, she needs to know that there will be people who'll use her out there, but there are also others that will sacrifice everything for her. She has to know it all. Maybe watching a drama heroine--even if it's just a drama--like her, she will want to be the heroine of her own life, she will not just subside to the margins because she feels like she's lacking something. Focusing on her handicap will make her find out many of its side, and she'll think about the whole thing from more than just one narrow perspective.
We watch four episodes in a row, munching on chips and gummy bears Mariam have brought us.
"It's been a while since I watched it, I don't really remember how they look or what the theme is like."
"It's a bit gloomy and less bright than other dramas we've watched," I say. "The male lead is--"
"Of course I remember him!" she says in a high pitched tone. I look at her irritatedly and snatch the pack of chips from her hands. She reaches out for it.
"Hey! What's that?!"
"Remember him," I snort, focusing back on the mobile screen.
It's a scene where the male lead brings the girl cotton candy and they eat it.
"What is happening?" Leen asks shaking my arm.
"He got her cotton candy," I say, "and he bends to eat with her."
"Aaah," she squeals, "he's falling for her. How does he look at her?"
"I. . . don't know," I say tilting my head a bit in thought. "Lovingly?"
"Awww," she shrieks, piercing my ears.
"I'm deafened Leen! For God's sake!"
"That is so cute!"
"You know I didn't want you to watch it for the love story. . ."
"But it's good," she mumbles.
"Let's watch," I say in defeat, putting some chips in my mouth.
"You know what?" she says after a while. "I really love watching dramas with you, they're totally different then, better actually. And now I even love hearing what happens from you." I smile and she goes on, "I faintly remember a scene in this drama when he watches TV with her, he tells her what happens just like you're doing now. I thought it was the cutest thing when I first saw it, I never imagined it'd happen to me."
"Well, that means you have a life like kdramas?" I laugh.
"I guess so," she says excitedly.
I keep thinking that before marrying Leen I would have never thought of doing the things I do now. I wouldn't have watched romantic shows or read girly books or combed someone's hair and tied their hijab. I would have never liked it in a million years, but I admit that although it's still pretty weird to me, unusual and quite silly, I really love and enjoy it. Not for anything but for Leen herself, she made me love what she loves, and I'm pretty okay with that.
Girls are not silly, they are not some squeaky creatures--at least not all the time--like some men think. Girls, no matter how moody, easily angered, childish, dramatic, unexpected, jealous, and sometimes indirect, they are actually simple. As simple as a word of reassurance, an act of caring, sharing of interests and good times, even sharing of problems. All you need to do is be there for them, think of the small things like they do, they actually affect them more than bigger things.
After marrying Leen, and when I started to put as much thought into my life with her as I put into work, sports, money, and other things I care about, I found out it's not too hard to be happy. Girls are overthinking all the time, and some thinking from your behalf puts their minds at rest.
Later in the day, I receive an e-mail from Omar attached with some files I need to work on. While I'm taking a look at the files I receive another e-mail, from Dr. Herrmann. I read it carefully. It says the surgery will be in a week, and that week is scheduled for loads of tests and checkups.
No matter how I try to be positive about it, I really want Leen to see again. It's unthinkable, the seventy percent of failure.
~~~
Now that was quick! :D
About 4 chapters are left, I'll try to make them long like this one. I hope you enjoyed it though; and forgive any mistakes.
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Nouran.