“What’s wrong?” I shook her and got her back from where she was.
“No, no! Nothing’s wrong. In fact, everything is incredibly right,” she was glowing.
“Please talk. I am really getting worried,” I demanded.
“I have to tell you the whole story first,” she sighed with a twinkle in her eyes, “I had Ahmad when Saoud and Bader were only a little over two years old. It was exhausting; it was like raising a triple except two were running around uncontrollably and the third cried all day and night. I decided to take birth control pills and put my plans of having a girl on hold. Three years later, I was ready to get pregnant again and I stopped the pills, but there was no news. I waited and waited. And now after five years, I decided it was time to see an Ob/Gyn about it.”
The poor thing! And all along we thought that she didn’t want any more children. She’d never said a word about it, even with all the pressure she was under when Mother hinted at the subject. Mother repeated the story about how ecstatic she was the moment her doctor told her she was having a girl, after her speaking about the importance of daughters, of course.
“Carry on,” I encouraged her.
“Well, my doctor asked me to do some blood tests to see what’s wrong,” she was beaming like never before, “And I just got a message from her. It seems I am pregnant.”
In tears, I jumped over and hugged her despite all the barriers between the driver’s seat and the passenger’s. I was so caught in the moment that failed to notice the car behind me honking, waiting for my parking space to be free.
“Please, don’t mention to Yousif or Khalti that you know I am pregnant. They should have been the first to know,” she realized on our way back home.
The next morning, at breakfast, my mother had an incredible glow about her. It was as though candles were lit inside her eyes.
“What is it, Mama, you seem exceptionally happy this morning?” I asked wearing an oblivious look.
“Well, why shouldn’t I be? My only daughter is marrying a wonderful man,” she replied concealing the actual source of her delight. I would never understand the necessity Kuwaitis feel towards hiding pregnancy news until its third month.
“It’s been a more than a month and a half since I said yes,” I resumed my efforts to hear the truth I knew quite well, “That can’t be the reason.”
“So, what? Would you rather see me frown?” she scolded.
“Of course not, Mama,” I kissed her forehead with my coffee in my hand, “I am running late for work, now. If it’s okay, I will have lunch with Sana today. Bye.”
With a nod from Mother, I left the house rounding up the choices for our lunch. When Sana told me that her husband Khaled was leaving on three-day trip, I decided to take enjoy every minute of the temporary return of Sana’s free life. In the past eighteen months, since her return back from her honeymoon, our gatherings were much less frequent than they were before her marriage, and we wanted to reminisce. Lorenzo, I thought, that was the place to which we had gone often during Sana’s engagement. It was the best place to reminisce, even though it had changed its location.
“Now, tell me, what is your big news?” I asked Sana as soon as we were seated.
“I am pregnant,” she announced radiantly.
I was dumbfounded. Was there something in the air? Wow, two newborns to my dearest friends all at once! I was really excited.
“That’s so exciting! Tell me everything. What happened to enjoying at least four years of blissful marriage before having your first child? Those were your words. How long has it been? And how did Khaled react to the new? I am so excited I can’t stop talking,” I rambled.
“I know! So am I. Of course my excitement is mingled with some fear,” she couldn’t stop smiling, “It was somewhat unplanned. I am in my second month. What was that last question? Oh, yes Khaled is ecstatic.”
A few minutes into our conversation, I asked, “At the party on Thursday I met Fatima. Where do you know her from?”
“Our mothers are friends, she was with me in college, and I had invited her close friends, so I had to invite her too. Why do you ask?” she explained.
“Nothing, I was just curious,” I lied.
“Look, let me warn you,” she said with a serious tone, “Khaled had been with Fahad in college before Fahad left to continue in the states. He says that Fahad was being stalked all the time; girls would set traps to get him. On the bright side, he never succumbed to any attempt, not that he had been an angel, but he used to have it his way. So don’t worry about it what you hear.”
“And what did I hear?” I asked sarcastically. I knew about what she was saying. Dalal, who was a junior when Fahad was a freshman in Kuwait University, had told me about that before our engagement was announced. She thought that it was the reason behind leaving Kuwait after his first year.
“Anyway, how has work been since the end of your internship?” she asked when I made it clear that I didn’t want to carry on that topic.
“Not easy, believe me. Working at investment companies is not the dream. I can’t wait to complete my two year “training” before Yousef would hire me,” I poured my heart.
“Don’t look, but there is a good looking guy at 9 o’clock who can’t take his eyes off you,” she remarked, “We should tell Fahad about that. Since you became officially unavailable you’ve been attracting men like crazy.”
“I think that is something universal. You went through the same thing during your engagement,” I reminded her, “What is it? Do we send a vibe when we are unavailable that attracts pathetic guys?”
I really wanted to laugh then, but I was afraid that guy might misinterpret my laughter. Just then Fahad called. My first instinct was to ignore it, but Sana encouraged me not to.
“Hala,” I said cheerfully.
“Hala feech,” his deep voice responded, “First, please tell me you weren’t serious last night when you said that you didn’t buy a red dress.”
I giggled amusedly to the reference, “Well, I was not.”
“Too bad. So, where are you?”
“I am having lunch with Sana at Lorenzo.”
“What a coincidence! Abdallah and I were planning to have lunch there. We would have met.”
“Oh no. I would have gone some place else.”
“Hold on a second please. I have a call I must take,” he pushed some buttons and got back to me, “Yah hala Fatima.”
Fatima? Which Fatima? I knew that none of his three sisters, his nieces, nor his sister-in-law is called Fatima. The only Fatima I knew he was associated with was the one I met at the party, the brutally cold-hearted Fatima.
“No. It’s still me, Noura,” and hung up on him.
The thought of being a rebound was merciful when compared to this one. I am mere a tool that he was using to get even with Fatima, and maybe have her back too. I excused myself and went to the ladies room with my cell phone in my palm ringing off the hook. One call came after the other, all from Fahad. But what was his excuse this time? Or could he even concoct one? The only thing I was hoping for was that Sana hadn’t noticed my reaction.
To be continued…
