Dreams of Water by Nada Awar Jarrar Page A

thank you.’
    â€˜The fact is, Ramzi’s family can’t take care of him right now,’ the directress says. She lifts a hand to the collar of her dress before continuing. ‘Besides, what’s wrong with your mother and that child taking comfort in one another’s company?’
    Aneesa hears the hushed sound of the flutter of wings coming from the cage beside her.
    â€˜But it’s just not true,’ she protests. ‘What she thinks is simply not true.’
    The directress stands up and points to the cage.
    â€˜Is that for Ramzi?’ she asks.
    Aneesa looks down at the bird. It has moved to the middle of its perch and is looking around with quick, jerking movements of its head. She nods.
    I understand Ramzi better now, Salah. He knows he is not alone in this world but there are times when he is suddenly aware of just how long he has been living at the orphanage, sleeping in his narrow bed by the window, the bird in his cage on the ledge, the breathing of other boys so close that he waits to synchronize it with his own, into a rhythm that finally puts him to sleep .
    His mother’s visits are infrequent. She has gone away across the border, to the mountain of the Druze where her family is from and has promised Ramzi she will come back for him one day soon. But he has long stopped standing nonchalantly by the orphanage gate on Sundays, waving the other children goodbye and pretending he was waiting for no one. Instead, he spends his day taking care of the bird or exploring the woods that surround the orphanage, stealing away for an hour or two into a copse of trees to lie on his back in the dirt, pine needles pricking him through his clothes, and to watch the movement of blue and grey sky between the branches .
    When the idea comes to him, Ramzi is sitting at breakfast early in the morning. The dining room is full andnoisy, just as he likes it, and he is eating fried eggs and dipping his bread into a mixture of dried thyme, sesame seeds and olive oil. Just as he breaks off a piece of the thin mountain bread, folding it carefully into a cone-like shape to scoop up a piece of egg, Ramzi realizes what he must do. He eats quickly, sneaks out of the dining room and makes his way to the main office. It is too early for the directress to be there, so he asks the secretary if he can make an urgent telephone call. He slips her a piece of paper and she dials the number for him. Ramzi turns his back to the young woman at the desk as he listens to the ring tone. He puts a hand on his heart and feels it beating very fast .
    â€˜ Who is that?’ he asks .
    â€˜ Ramzi, it’s me, Aneesa. Is everything all right ?’
    â€˜ I want to speak to Waddad .’
    I hear disappointment in his voice .
    â€˜ Can’t you tell me about it, Ramzi? Maybe I can help .’
    â€˜ I … I just wanted to let her know that I’ve made my decision .’
    â€˜ What decision ?’
    He clears his throat and I tighten my hand around the receiver .
    â€˜ Just tell her that I will come and live with her. There’s no need to wait any longer. I will come and be her son .’
    After all the boxes have been packed and sent away, Aneesa takes her only suitcase out of the cupboard in the hallway and places it on her bed. Inside, there are a couple of empty plastic bags and a small padlock with its keys attached to it. She takes the things out and turnsto her wardrobe, pulling out dresses, trousers and tops, thick jumpers, scarves, shoes and jackets and packing them away until the only things left hanging are the things she will wear on her flight back home. She zips up the suitcase, ties a luggage belt around it and fits the padlock into the two holes at each end of the zip. When she pulls the padlock shut, it makes a tiny clicking sound. She straightens up and takes a deep breath.
    Later that day, sitting in the armchair in the living room with one leg bent underneath her, Aneesa takes a