HWJN (English 2nd Edition) (12 page)

“Eyad,” I said.

“You finally came. You’re late!”

“Has your cousin arrived?”

“I’m waiting for her to materialize.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jumara will be my cousin. I have no uncles.”

—Every day this kid competed with yesterday’s craziness—.

“If you had no uncles how would you tell them your cousin will visit them? Surely this lie will unfold pretty quickly”

“
Sawsan’s mother got me off guard, I had to improvise. Come on, Jumara,” he said. “Come up with a cousin as you see fit. You have my mother’s dressing room upstairs. Pick whatever you like.”

Jumara went up and returned in a few moments. Eyad and I froze as we gazed on that creature coming down the stairs—a nymph Jinni had formed in the Human world! Her feet barely touched the ground, and she was so luscious. Even Hollywood has never seen such beauty. She had eyes that would drown a man when he looked at them, and gold and brocade battled off her hair.

Eyad’s jaw dropped, and he said, “Jumara, do you have any sisters?”

I materialized for a moment to punch him in the chest, to get him to behave himself. He shouted in pain. “What’s wrong with you, Hawjan? Do you forget Jumara is older than my grandmother, and a couple of days ago was my mother, and now is my cousin?”

Jumara smiled. “This is the body I used to form in.”

“But Jumara, my mother’s mother is French, and her eyes are light hazel.
Even lighter than mine.”

By the time Eyad had finished that sentence,
Jumara’s eyes had turned from dark brown into light hazel, increasing her beauty even further. She had a little bit of makeup on, though she really did not need it. She had an amazing dress on and wore one of Eyad’s mother’s stylish cloaks.

We went outside, and Eyad opened the garage door. Now I knew where Eyad had gotten the money from. A small, baby car appeared; it felt
almost a toy as we all stuffed inside it. Eyad and Jumara sat up front and I was in the back.

“So you sold the Lamborghini to come up with the doctor’s remaining amount?”

“Had it not been for your amateur driving, I could have sold it for a much better price and gotten myself a respectable BMW instead of this fly. I actually got the Lamborghini for this moment.”

We arrived at
Sawsan’s house, and not wait long after we rang the bell, Hattan opened the door. He looked like he had been shocked with an electric current when he saw Jumara, and he led us to the living room. Imagine entering your own house as a guest. Sawsan’s mother came down, greeting us with warmth, and Sawsan followed her. I sat in the empty space next to Sawsan and watched her.

Jumara started to talk, melting the ice in the room:

“Sorry. Forgive us. We were supposed to visit you and check up on Sawsan a long time ago. I am Juma—Jumana. Eyad’s cousin. I study at a French university. Mom is French and Dad is half French. Luckily we came to Jeddah to visit dad’s uncles and make an Umra, and Aunt called me, asking me to come with Eyad to visit Sawsan and make your acquaintance.”

An
Umra was a small pilgrimage. That much I heard, but I did not follow the greetings and other chatter that was going on. I was busy watching Sawsan. I saw her and her mother exchange a quick signal, then Mrs. Raja pulled Jumara by the hand, saying, “Come on, Jumana. Tell me about France. Let’s give Sawsan and Eyad some privacy.”

They moved to the other side of the living room, leaving us lone—Sawsan, Eyad, and me.

“Why, Eyad?” Sawsan asked.

“Why what?”

“Why are you proposing?”

“Sawsan, you know how much I like you.”

“Liking me is one thing. Marrying me is another. I have a brain tumor! Only Allah knows if I will live to the end of the month or not.”

He reached out to comfort her. She ran her fingers through her hair, and a small lock came out. She set it in
Eyad’s hand.

“My health is moving out of me just like my hair,” she said. “You deserve an angel who can live with you and make you happy. Not a mutant who lingers between life and death.”

Eyad closed his hand on her hair as his tears fell. “Sawsan, please give me a chance to be beside you for the rest of your days. Trust me. I am sure Allah will cure you, and you will become my angel who will make me happy for the rest of my life.”

She looked downward and cried too.

Then Eyad said, “Sawsan, someone is here to talk to you and explain a lot of things to you.”

“Who?”

“Hawjan, come here!” he called, and relaxed his head on the couch for me to possess him.

(18)

My Love, My Wife, and My Son

D
o you know what is the worst crime you can commit against yourself? It is to discard your soul. Life is a battlefield, and you are the machine at its center—a machine with organs and driven by materialistic interests, engulfed in controlling ideologies that claim transcendence although it is immoral. That said, there are those who value their souls, and see through them what hides behind those Human machines. They see through the eyes of intuition, emotion, insight, physiognomy, telepathy, or whatever other terminology you use as ignorance of the unnatural, metaphysical, or what lies beyond the mind. It is the mind that entraps you all inside your machines.

Sawsan was one of the few who had not buried her soul in the grave of the mind. The moment I possessed Eyad and raise my head off the couch and looked directly into her eyes, and she looked into mine for the first time, she immediately saw me through
Eyad’s body and knew me. She gasped and held my hand between hers, and her tears ran as she said, “Hawjan! I missed you, Hawjan. I missed you!”

“Are you not afraid of me?”

She ignored my silly question and kissed my fingers. “I was dying from fear for you! Why did you go and leave me? I was scared something had happened to you.”

I felt the world’s heat flowing in my body from her lips through my fingers, and my tears exploded. “Forgive me. I know you have suffered a lot with me.”— I implored Sawsan.

“Don’t ask me for forgiveness. I know you’ve suffered even more.”—Sawsan replied

“Sawsan, did Xanam harm you in any way?” —I asked.

“His name is Xanam?” —Sawsan asked

“Him and others.
Devils and sorcerers tried to trick your father. But don’t worry—”

“I’m sure you got rid of them, my hero,” she interrupted.

I sighed. “Eyad is your real hero. He sacrificed his life more than once for you.”

As I said it, I looked at the scars on from injuries on his arm. Sawsan felt the scar on his forehead with her fingers, though she would not acknowledge his existence, as if I had taken his place.

“Why did you do this to yourself, Hawjan?” she finally asked.

“Sawsan, Eyad deserves you. He truly deserves you.”—I replied.

“But I do not deserve him! Eyad is every girl’s dream, and he deserves an Angel like his cousin.”

As she said this, she turned to the other side of the living room, toward Jumara and her mother.
They sat in a corner from which Jumara could barely see us. Yet she noticed me possessing Eyad and holding Sawsan’s hand, and the yearning in our eyes. She struggled to control her temper and her materialization in your world.

“That is not
Eyad’s cousin. That is Jumara, my wife!” I told Sawsan.

She smiled in a way I did not understand. She looked downward to hide her tears, which I was not supposed to see, as she regained her seriousness. “Listen, Hawjan. My illness is nearly hopeless. The only way to cure me is surgery, and even if I live through that, the chances of survival are very low. On the off chance I do survive, I will most likely lose a big part of my memory, and my brain functions and maybe even my motor functions.”

“Sawsan, with Allah there is no such thing as nearly hopeless, nor chances of survival. There is only good faith. Trust me, your cure is dependent on your faith in Allah and your spirit!”

My statement released her soul from the prison of despair, turning it into certitude in her heart. She smiled and said, “I trust in Allah. But in all cases, I would never think of marriage now. I will not get married until I am cured.”

“By Allah’s will, you are going to get cured.”

“And then we will go back to chatting on the tablet? Or will you form in this world and live with us?”

“Sawsan, I must disappear from your life.”

“Hawjan!”

“My appearance caused you problems you do not need. Trust me, you must forget about me.”

Her eyes begged me. But I would not allow myself to cause her any more pain.

“Hawjan, please,” she said. “You can see me whenever you want and make sure I’m okay. How can I know you’re okay?”

“Sawsan, please get well. I will always be around you.”

“Goodbye, Hawjan!”

She said it loudly, tearing her heart and mine! She refused to let go of my hand. I pulled it slowly and stood. I left her drowning in her tears.

“Jumana, let’s go,” I said. “We’re late.”

In the car I exited
Eyad’s body. None of us said a word as we drove. Each of us had our own turmoil to battle.

Suddenly Eyad jumped in his seat. “I must call Mom right now. I’m afraid
Sawsan’s parents will start asking about me, and find my father’s or mother’s number and call them.”

He plugged his cell phone into its base and made a video call. He put on a cheerful voice when his mother’s image appeared. She was enjoying some quiet time on her balcony on the beach at Cannes.

“Hey, Manal, how are you?” Eyad greeted her. “Miss you, miss you, miss you!”

“Darling, I miss you like crazy. How come you haven’t called me for two weeks?”

“I’ve been through a lot. Mom… and…I have little news for you.”

“Oh dear God.
What have you done this time?”

“Nothing.
I just want to tell you I’ve found the one and proposed!”

“Eyad!
Stop it!”

“I swear. I proposed.”

“And who proposed for you?”

“You did!”

“Eyaaaad!”

“And my cousin Jumana went to visit her parents with me, to get to know them.”

“Jumana who? Eyad, you are driving me nuts. Stop your silly jokes.”

He turned the phone toward Jumara, who greeted
Eyad’s mother in the mother’s voice. “How are you, Auntie?”

Eyad’s
mother was shocked. Eyad went on: “Mom, please. I found the girl of my dreams, and I had to propose.”

“Eyad,
You should have waited for me to come back. The girl will still be there.”

“Trust me,
Mom, she might be gone at any moment. Please, if Mrs. Raja Alabdaly calls you regarding her daughter Sawsan, don’t make a liar out of me.”

He ended the call, and we all went back to our
silence.

At
Eyad’s place, Jumara dematerialized and returned his mother’s clothes, and then she and I went back home. As we crossed the yard, I felt Sawsan’s tears melting her —and burning my heart. Jumara’s heart boiled in jealousy as she felt my pain.

In our room, we found an unexpected guest waiting for us. “You finally showed up. I was getting bored and was about to leave, but I thought that would be rude.”

Xanam said this as he came out of our room. With him was a short, fat, depressed-looking old lady who jumped Jumara and wrapped her arms around her waist, and pushed her ear on her belly.

Xanam said, “So, tell me the good news.”

The woman turned to him. It seemed she did not speak, she only nodded. Xanam took me in his arms and said, “Congratulations, cousin. You will become a father. And I will become an uncle. Congratulations, Jumara”

The last thing Jumara could stand was her brother’s sarcasm. She ignored him and entered our room.

Xanam looked at the old lady, asking, “So, how long before it’s born?”

She raised her fingers. Xanam addressed me this time.
“Ten more weeks, Hawjan. You’ve been busy. Good boy, following through on your contract with King Hayaf, but I’m sure you enjoyed the labor.”

“King Hayaf did not abide by the contract clauses. He only sent the Jinni away. His Efreets remained circling Dr. Abdulraheem until I killed them!”

“Listen to me. King Hayaf can kill us one by one. But he is afraid of the Fayhee clan! If he causes any issues with us, he will start a war he cannot manage. That’s why he wrote that contract—so no one can say a word.”

“If he even comes close to Jumara or my son, I will kill him.”

“You really believe that? Who are you in comparison to King Hayaf? Keep a cool head, and do not risk yourself and those around you.”

I pushed him aside and followed Jumara.
Xanam’s threatening words followed me: “Hawjan! Don’t you dare do anything we will all regret!”

***

Days quickly passed. Sawsan’s window never opened, and she never left the house. I didn’t see her at all. Sadness engulfed the house and its occupants. I didn’t even dare go close to her window to hear her cries or prayers. I didn’t know if she had any spirit left.

Spirit?
Everything is moving toward one outcome: death. But Allah is above everything and every outcome. Finally the house doors opened and I saw her, but this couldn’t be Sawsan! She was a breathing corpse. A skeleton with thin skin and no hair. Even her eyebrows and lashes had disappeared. But she was smiling. She was comforting her parents and ignoring death, which was waving to her from the horizon as she got into the car to go get her treatment.

I immediately called Eyad. He got to the hospital before I did. I refused
Jumara’s pleas to come with me, especially since her body and emotions were so weakened by her pregnancy. Eyad waited for me in his white robe, discussing Sawsan’s case with the doctors as if he were one of her relatives. An operation such as the one we were about to undertake needed a lot of preparation, so we spent two hours moving around the hospital with Sawsan. Her doctors were occupied with pre-checks, and Sawsan smiled all the while, even exchanging jokes with them. A nurse shaved what little hair remained on her head, and Sawsan smiled as she watched it fall.

She noticed Eyad as we were on our way to the operating room. She asked him. “He came with us?”

Eyad knew she was asking about me. He nodded, and that gave her comfort. I entered the operating room with her; Eyad, on the other hand, failed to get the doctors to let him in. An army surrounded Sawsan’s as she gave in to the anesthetic, causing her smile to fade. That might have been the last smile ever to appear on her beautiful face. Her energy fields faded as she closed her eyes, which she might never open again.

Six hours passed while I watched what was going on inside
Sawsan’s brain. I watched the blood flow and the vapor caused by the lasers eating up her brain cells. I prayed to Allah throughout the entire operation, and finally it was done. When we came out of the OR, I found Eyad waiting right next to the door, and behind him were Sawsan’s family, who had lived through the worst six hours of their lives.

I went close to Eyad and whispered in his ear, “Quick, ask the doctors about the operation!”

“Hawjan, I got three missed calls from Jumara. I didn’t notice them. The phone was on silent.”

Jumara?
What happened to her?” I left Eyad and Sawsan and flew to the house. I did not find Jumara, just signs of a struggle that could only mean King Hayaf had taken my wife and child.

Damn Hayaf. He must have been watching me all the time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to kidnap my Jumara. My preoccupation with Sawsan had been enough for him to abduct Jumara and get rid of her, and for Xanam to have my son.