and disappeared at the front lines. I already sent people to catch him. So you see, your lover is in big trouble. I advise you to go home, Nora. This is too big for you to handle."
Nora didn't answer. It was like all the bad news was being dumped on her head all at once. Had she lived a dream with Tamer? Had she been that far away from the harsh reality that was clawing at her with a vengeance this time?
Kamil must have been telling the truth about Tamer. She already knew in her heart that there was more in the files about him than she wanted to acknowledge. She just wanted to live her love fully without thinking about the consequences; she wanted to live in denial of everything and everybody around her.
"You can't kick me out, Kamil. I have to see Tamer first and talk to him. If something really happened, I want to hear it out of his mouth."
"I can't kick you out! Who do you think you are, you filthy Christian!? Just look at the way you sleep with my nephew—shameless, immoral—and you dare talk to me this way. This house, this building, each piece of furniture belongs to me! Your crazy Tamer is legally incompetent! He doesn’t own a cent. He lives on the allowance I send him! Did you think he was rich? Was that why you stuck around? He has nothing. You are nothing. Just pack your belongings and leave." Following his angry tirade, Kamil left the room, looking for Mona.
Nora, left to herself, sat there completely stunned by the degree of hatred surrounding her. She felt numb all over. She had worked like a robot the whole day, waiting for the moment when she could be with Tamer again and cry on his shoulder. She knew in her heart that he would have stood by her and would have even come with her to confront her mom. She was even thinking about going away with him to Cyprus to get a civil marriage, which didn’t exist in Lebanon, to quiet all the talk about them. Now here she was, facing the storm all by herself. Strangely, she didn't feel like crying or screaming or even yelling at God. She felt nothing, nothing at all. She stood up , left the room, and packed her clothes. Without seeing either Mona or Kamil, she left the house w here she had spent the best days of her life, never to return.
XIX.
“What’s your name again?” The bearded man from the Christian militia asked. Oddly, he was a friend of Mohsen , the one who had patched Tamer up on the other side. For years the two used to shoot at each other and at innocents crossing the street. They built their friendship over years of fighting, over the dead bodies of their comrades, and over the ruins of Beirut, the dead city. This guy's name was Pierre, and a huge, golden cross hung suspended from his neck.
"Tamer Monzem , but I want to change my whole identity. And then I would like to leave the country."
"How much are you ready to pay?"
"I'm ready to fight. I know how to do it. I'm not afraid to die. But if I make it, I want to leave the country." They stood there with their eyes locked for a while, sizing each other up.
"Okay, you'll join our troop. There are two huge battles going on right now against the Christian army. One is two streets down from here. You'll just come with me. But first, you need to change your name. You can be Tony instead of Tamer. Huh, Tony Moutran . A good Christian name."
With that, Pierre left him. He came back carrying clothes similar to the ones he was wearing, some firearms, and a huge wooden cross which he put around Tamer's neck.
"This will protect you from harm. That is what we believe, and it’s what we used to fight for before we Christians fought each other. I have a brother and two cousins in the army I'm fighting against, and my mother is dying of worry and frustration. But I'll never leave my troop, even if I have to pay for it with my brother's blood. Well, let's go.”
Tamer followed him silently. After a week, his wound was feeling much bette r. He had left the area to the w est of the line the day after he
Nora didn't answer. It was like all the bad news was being dumped on her head all at once. Had she lived a dream with Tamer? Had she been that far away from the harsh reality that was clawing at her with a vengeance this time?
Kamil must have been telling the truth about Tamer. She already knew in her heart that there was more in the files about him than she wanted to acknowledge. She just wanted to live her love fully without thinking about the consequences; she wanted to live in denial of everything and everybody around her.
"You can't kick me out, Kamil. I have to see Tamer first and talk to him. If something really happened, I want to hear it out of his mouth."
"I can't kick you out! Who do you think you are, you filthy Christian!? Just look at the way you sleep with my nephew—shameless, immoral—and you dare talk to me this way. This house, this building, each piece of furniture belongs to me! Your crazy Tamer is legally incompetent! He doesn’t own a cent. He lives on the allowance I send him! Did you think he was rich? Was that why you stuck around? He has nothing. You are nothing. Just pack your belongings and leave." Following his angry tirade, Kamil left the room, looking for Mona.
Nora, left to herself, sat there completely stunned by the degree of hatred surrounding her. She felt numb all over. She had worked like a robot the whole day, waiting for the moment when she could be with Tamer again and cry on his shoulder. She knew in her heart that he would have stood by her and would have even come with her to confront her mom. She was even thinking about going away with him to Cyprus to get a civil marriage, which didn’t exist in Lebanon, to quiet all the talk about them. Now here she was, facing the storm all by herself. Strangely, she didn't feel like crying or screaming or even yelling at God. She felt nothing, nothing at all. She stood up , left the room, and packed her clothes. Without seeing either Mona or Kamil, she left the house w here she had spent the best days of her life, never to return.
XIX.
“What’s your name again?” The bearded man from the Christian militia asked. Oddly, he was a friend of Mohsen , the one who had patched Tamer up on the other side. For years the two used to shoot at each other and at innocents crossing the street. They built their friendship over years of fighting, over the dead bodies of their comrades, and over the ruins of Beirut, the dead city. This guy's name was Pierre, and a huge, golden cross hung suspended from his neck.
"Tamer Monzem , but I want to change my whole identity. And then I would like to leave the country."
"How much are you ready to pay?"
"I'm ready to fight. I know how to do it. I'm not afraid to die. But if I make it, I want to leave the country." They stood there with their eyes locked for a while, sizing each other up.
"Okay, you'll join our troop. There are two huge battles going on right now against the Christian army. One is two streets down from here. You'll just come with me. But first, you need to change your name. You can be Tony instead of Tamer. Huh, Tony Moutran . A good Christian name."
With that, Pierre left him. He came back carrying clothes similar to the ones he was wearing, some firearms, and a huge wooden cross which he put around Tamer's neck.
"This will protect you from harm. That is what we believe, and it’s what we used to fight for before we Christians fought each other. I have a brother and two cousins in the army I'm fighting against, and my mother is dying of worry and frustration. But I'll never leave my troop, even if I have to pay for it with my brother's blood. Well, let's go.”
Tamer followed him silently. After a week, his wound was feeling much bette r. He had left the area to the w est of the line the day after he
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