Soldier

Finally, an opening. I looked up just in time to see him notice us. At that moment the soldier began to move towards me, he shifted his weapon over his shoulder to quicken his pace. I pretended not to notice, but my heart wasn't as interested in my strategy, i could feel it beat faster with every step the soldier took. Soon, he was next to me, but at this point my eyes were glued to the floor, the sky, and my own hands, anything but him. I didn't want my eyes to betray the anxiety that has taken over my whole body. But my heart was the worse, it felt as though it is beating outside my chest, everyone must have noticed.

Finally, he speaks to me: "ID?" he asks quickly. My hands shake as I present my papers to him, still avoiding looking at him. "You don't have a permit?" he asks with more authority this time, I should look up. I have to, if I am to have any hope of crossing the check point. "No, I don't. But this is a humanitarian matter. My husband is on trial today, I need to be there". Silence.. what is going on? I fight against the gravity that has taken over my head, and struggle to look up. Handsome. This is worse than i thought. I don't know how to talk to men, much less to a handsome man. My heart at this point has stopped beating all together, picked itself up and abandoned me for someone with more courage. The soldier smiled. I was sure he can hear every thought going through my head. My position is getting weaker by the second. I turn to my sister for help, but she seems unaware of what is going on. I must handle this situation by myself; after all I am always complaining that everyone is constantly underestimating my abilities. Time to prove them wrong.

I looked at the soldier again feigning courage "You have to let me pass, what else can I do? i need to be there to support him, I need to bring him clothes, and cigarettes.. please give us a break, we won't be long, straight to the court and back, please". So much for courage, sounds more like begging to me, and now I am terrified, intimidated and ashamed. Can things get any worse? The soldier has a smirk on his face now, looks at me for what seems like forever, "where are you from?" he asks finally.
"Ramallah" I answer with a croak
"You don't look Palestinian" he shoots back
"My mother is an American" was the only explanation I can come up with.
The soldier shakes his head as if my answer explained everything, I didn't really understand what he wanted me to look like in order to prove my ethnicity. If my heart was still with me, I might have answered him that he doesn't look Israeli. But alas my heart is long gone. I envy it; wish I was long gone too.


By now I was officially hating myself, my mind was berating me for my weakness as I tried to silence my self deprecating thoughts and focus on the situation at hand. Its 5:40 in the morning, the twilight is beautiful, the rest of the world is just beginning to wake up, "calmness before the storm" is how I always thought about it, but the weather was cold, and I struggled to keep warm by snuggling my head as deep into my scarf as possible.

The soldiers were all drinking coffee, I stared at them with envy.. what I wouldn't do for a cup right now.. and a cigarette, I'm sure I would be braver if those things were at hand. Instead I feel naked, just standing there, answering questions. Suddenly I know we aren't going to be allowed to cross to the other side, and panic takes over me. My head is filled with things I would like to say, images of a stronger version of myself stepping forward and taking the soldiers by surprise with her courage and wit, they would be so impressed by me that they would decide to break the rules and let me pass simply out of admiration. It's a nice thought, but it wasn't happening.


"You are too young and pretty to be married", he says sheepishly looking into my eyes, I notice his eyes are grey, the words catch me by surprise, and I feel my whole body turn red, yes I am actually blushing. What is wrong with me? Am I so desperate for attention, that I would accept it from one who is at most an enemy and at least an obstacle? I must be, because now I am smiling and swaying and doing some sort of awkward move with my leg that no one should be allowed to do. How I despise myself, but I assure myself that this is only a ploy to encourage him to let us pass.. well.. let's see how well that works was all my mind had to say about this

I wish my body would support me a bit, first my heart now my thoughts. It seems I have a problem standing up to myself, no wonder I can't stand up to anyone else. I don't know what to answer, I just keep moving around like the fool that I am, and now everyone must know it as well, I look around me but no one is paying us any attention. He however has a big smile on his face so he knows. I look at my sister; she is giving me a strange look, okay so she knows I am a fool too. What a great role model I am, maybe I should resign my role as big sister and let her take over; she couldn't possibly do any worse.

Meanwhile, the check point is getting busier and a line was beginning to form behind us, can't waste any more time just staring into nothingness. "Can we pass now?" my sister thankfully breaks the silence with her usual impatience. "Go back, you can't go through, go back home", another soldier barks at us, he comes out of nowhere, I didn't notice him before, he resembles a chimpanzee with his big frame and long arms, and his face is not much better either. I look back at our soldier to see his reaction, this time it was his turn to look at the floor and I realized that the chimpanzee soldier must outrank him. It's too late. I definitely couldn't see myself arguing with the new guy, and i felt a wave of defeat cripple my body. What now?

Nothing. This is the reality of the situation. No amount of courage or wit can get you through a checkpoint, it is all about luck. Now of course if you had proper paper work you will be allowed through, but since that is impossible to obtain you just go and take your chance. It all depends on the soldiers on duty, on the weather, on their mood, on whether or not the sergeant had a fight with his wife this morning, it all depends on things that have nothing to do with this checkpoint. This was not my day and we were unlucky, there is no humanitarian matter big enough to get us through now that the sergeant has spoken. We turn around, and head in the direction of home, defeated, helpless and with less dignity than we came. 

This is not a suicide note

You say  life is a beautiful,

To play within its breezes, 

You say life is free,

To stroll on its beaches,

But I see them killed then abandoned,

Imprisoned and defeated,

Failures, buried.

And still you celebrate.

How can you celebrate?

Do you not see the tragedy?

Do you not feel the hardship?

For gods sake what womb bore you?

Of what land were you raised?

For I don’t see in life but its plights,

The eternal ennui,

Its harshness and troubles,

Please give me your eyes so that I may see what you see

For life has stolen my vision as I stagger through,

And I see nothing but darkness.

Yes I have given up,

Yes I am defeated

For what use is victory for me now

If I do not love what I have fought for?

I give up on life; I give to them what is left,

This is not a suicide note

Only my reasons for leaving

For I no longer care for waiting.

The Turtle

I met a turtle today, a real live turtle. I saw him (I am assuming it is a he, although they all look the same to me) through the window of the apartment, he was walking on the side of the road, heading towards the middle of it, he was literally a dead turtle the way he was going, and I couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking. So, I ran out, picked him up and took him back home. I put him on the kitchen counter and proceeded to wait for him to poke his head out. I tried to lure him out with some lettuce, but then succumbed to the fact that I have to be patient and he will come out when he is good and ready. I sat down on the chair placing my elbows on the counter and continued to watch for him move.

Ten minutes later I realized this may take a while. So, in the meantime let's think of a name for you little guy. I used to love watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles when I was a kid (the movies not the cartoon), it seemed strange that I can still remember their names now while I’ve forgotten so many things from my past, but the turtles names are fresh in my mind. let’s see, there was Donatello, Michelangelo, Leonardo and Raphael. Needless to say, Raphael was my favorite; leave it to me to develop a crush on a turtle. But, I identified with him, he was the black sheep of the group, the only one whose name didn’t end in an ‘O’, he was an anti social bad boy, aggressive, fierce and sarcastic, He didn’t quite fit in anywhere. I really should rent the movies sometimes.

Okay, so that is what your name will be little guy, ‘Raphael’, there we go, my own little ninja turtle, all I need now is the toxic waste. Sigh. I wish he would come out already; having a turtle for a pet is turning out to be quite boring.

I decided to finish cleaning up; maybe he will feel better if I wasn’t around. I suppose I wouldn’t come out either if there was this strange creature staring me right in the face. I moved to other side of the kitchen, and started with the dishes, looking back at my turtle every now and then to see if he has poked his head out yet. I left the lettuce leaf right in front of him, in case. I wondered if he drinks water, I couldn’t imagine how he could though.

Finally, I turned around and he was chomping on the lettuce leaf. I watched him for a minute, and then started to slowly move closer, until I was standing right in front of him. I lowered my head, and looked into my Raphael’s eyes, glossy black, with no sign of emotion there. I guess it is too much to ask for gratitude from a turtle, he obviously wasn’t very smart to begin with considering where he was heading a couple of hours ago.

“Hi, Raphael”, I said softly, “My name is Summer, this is where I live. I saved your life, you dumb little thing, you were going to be turtle pancakes if it weren’t for me, what do you think about that??”

Silence.

I guess he’s not much of a conversationalist.

I felt awkward standing in front of the turtle; it was embarrassing enough talking to it, but worse when it wasn’t talking back. What were expecting him to say? “Thank you, ma’am I appreciate your kindness, and this is mighty good lettuce, I haven’t eaten in days, maybe you have a tomato or cucumber to go with that?"

The turtle and I just stared blankly at each other. I didn’t know where to go from here. I never did think that far ahead, part of the reason why I am standing here in this kitchen talking to a turtle anyway.

“Well," I continued, "I guess I should let you know that I’ve named you. And not one of those stupid names you might name a turtle," I assured him, "like ‘pokey’ or ‘mikey’, you actually received a very meaningful name, your named after a teen age mutant ninja turtle, who in turn was named after a very famous renaissance Italian painter.” I said proudly.

Still nothing. Although his eyes seemed to glow a bit when I mentioned the Italian painter. Maybe my little friend had a thing for art? Or Italians? Maybe my little guy is a homosexual turtle?

“Are you little guy? Do you like boy turtles??”

Axh, give it up summer, he’s not going to answer, or do anything. He is a turtle for God’s sake, he can barely walk. What a mundane existence he must live, just him and that shell. Existing only to eat and drink and sleep in that shell. I can’t imagine turtles can play either. Maybe they live in an alternate time atmosphere, maybe in turtle world the way they move is actually quite fast, and only seems slow to other creatures, because our time atmosphere is faster?! It was a good theory, hard to prove but made me feel better anyway.

Still I wasn’t giving up on Raphael just yet.

"Soooo.. Raphael.. tell me, where were you going? Or leaving from? Do you have a family? Friends? A home.. anything nearby?? Did you run away from home? Or maybe your lost? What’s your story?? I’m curious, I am interested, I want to know.. I am listening.

Raphael must have gotten sick of my nosy questions, because he began to move and turn away from me.

“What? Is it a sore subject? Not ready to talk about it yet? Its okay I understand, take your time.”

He was heading to the edge of the counter. Great, a suicidal turtle.

I picked him up and set him on the floor. He actually looked up at me, finally, a sign of recognition, at least he’s aware of my presence. We are getting somewhere. I kneeled down and put my finger to his head and rubbed it. I didn’t know if that is anyway to pet a turtle, hell, I didn’t know if turtles are supposed to be pet, but he didn’t seem to mind and so we were both content.

"You’re probably wondering what you are doing in this place? How you got here aren’t you? One minute you’re in your habitat, earth, trees, grass, and the next all you can see around you is cold stone and granite. I know how you feel; I wonder how the hell I got here too. But it’s not so bad. You can get used to it, at least it is safe, and you can’t get hurt here."

I wondered if my husband would abject to Rafael moving in with us. No reason why he should, except that it is something that I want, and so would either dismiss it, or make me beg for it. I don’t know if I reached that level of desperation where I am willing to beg for a turtle.

At that point my husband walked into the kitchen and startled me, he always does that, sneaks into the house, hoping to catch me doing something. It's incredibly frustrating, but I pretend not to know what the hell he’s doing.

“What are you doing?” he asks looking around the kitchen.

“Nothing, finishing the dishes and talking to Rafael”, I answered.

“Whose Rafael?” he’s eyes grew bigger.

“THAT is Rafael” I answered, pointing at my turtle who has abandoned me into his shell, at the sound of my husbands' voice.

“That’s a turtle,” he said looking at me, making sure I understand.

“Yeah I know what it is”

“What is a turtle doing here?” he asked still wondering if I got it.

“He was going to get run over by a car, so I brought him in, and gave him some food,” I said leaving out my conversation with Rafael, “I thought he can stay here with us?”

“We are not living with a turtle”, he said now looking at me as if I were insane.

“Well, maybe just until we find a family for him”, I said hating the whine in my voice.

“No Arab family wants to live with a turtle, you know what we used to do to turtles when we were kids, we’d break the shell and.."

“Okay stop, stop, not in front of Rafael.”

“Listen, I just want to know, you realize Rafael is a turtle, right?” he said putting his hands on my shoulders and looking at me closely.

“Yeah of course, I know he’s a turtle", a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, I thought.

“Ok, then you won't mind if I throw him back outside where he belongs”

“No, no please, we’ll keep him here tonight, and then tomorrow I will take him to my parents house, we have a big backyard, he will be happy”.

“I am not sleeping with a turtle in this house”

“Why the hell not? Are you afraid the turtle is going to take over or kill you in your sleep?”

“Summer, I cannot believe that we are having this discussion about a turtle. It’s just a turtle.”

“Exactly, it is just a turtle.”

"You know I don't like animals"

Well, I don't like you but I live with you.

"No, I know that you are allergic to cats and dogs, but I don't know you don't like animals."

"Yeah, well, I don't like them because I am allergic to them."

"Yeah, well, I don't think anyone in the world is allergic to turtles."

"You know, in all my imagination of marriage, the last thing I imagined was that would be standing in a kitchen, a turtle between us, explaining to you why we can't keep it."

Really? I thought, of everything we've been through, THAT is the last thing you imagined? but I said: "yeah, life is unpredictable like that."

"What does that supposed to mean? Are you being sarcastic?"

"No, just making a social commentary about the irony of life." I answered back, okay now is the time to end that sentence with a smile, this conversation is one word away from turning into a full blown war, who I am sure the first victim of which will be my poor Raphael.

“Do you really want to go there? Do you really want to turn this into something because of a turtle?”, he said moving closer.

“No, not because of a turtle, because you won’t even listen to me, you won’t let me state my case about the turtle.”

“Ok,” he leaned back against the counter, “go ahead, I’m listening, why do we need a turtle in our lives?”

“First of all we are helping a poor animal, and second of all he’ll keep me company when you are not around.” You know those two hours you manage to leave the house, and “I’ve grown attached to him.”

“You’ve grown attached to a turtle in two hours?”

“Well, yeah.. is it such a big deal?”

“If you want something to keep you company why don’t we just have a baby?”

Because I am not insane.

“Don’t start that, I am asking for a turtle, and you turn this into a baby conversation? That’s hardly fair.”

“Well? Why the hell not?”

Because your unemployed, because I hate you, because your dangerous, because I wouldn’t trust you around this turtle alone nevertheless a baby, because you are a lying, manipulative, selfish bastard, because I have no idea how we are living, or where food money is coming from, because the only reason you want a child Is because you think that way I will never leave you, because I am prepared to suffer the consequences of my actions but will not impose my decisions on an innocent life, because the very idea of a baby having any one of your characteristics makes me sick to my stomach, because I’d rather die first.

No, I didn’t say that, I think it all the time and the thoughts are getting closer and closer to the surface, I know one day they will burst out of me, but not today. Instead what I said was:” Because we are in the process of nesting, our nest is still being built and it takes time, I need to feel secure.”

“We are secure, my family is a short car drive away, we would never need anything.”

“That is not my idea of security, I am the one in charge of our finances remember? And as your accountant I am telling you, we are as far away from secure as can be.”

“We make do.”

“I don’t want to make do, I want a steady income.”

“I can’t work a 9-5 job, I can’t be locked up in an office, and I can’t take orders from anyone.”

“Fair enough, do your thing, I want you to be happy with whatever it is your doing, but let me work then..”

“Ah I knew it, that’s what this is about, you want to work, find someone new, sorry babe, I don’t trust you enough to go there.” he started laughing; “It is really cute that you tried though.”

Go to hell.

“Forget about it, it is impossible to talk to you. Let’s just focus on the turtle.”

“The turtle goes; if you want we will take him to your family’s house after dinner. Get it out of my face for now.”

So I smiled, laid my anger aside and tried a different approach.

"Come on baby, please. Just for tonight, then we will take him to my family, come on." I was whining again.

He stood there thinking about it.

Damn you, why are you making this so difficult?

"Fine, but keep it out of my face, put it out on the balcony, okay?"

"Okay, thank you."

"I'm going to go change."

I walked towards Raphael, who was still hiding in his shell, and I sat down on the floor next to him, picked up his shell and looked in; "Did you hear that Rafael? Did you hear what the evil man wanted?? I ask for a piece of bread and he asks for the world. That is how it is with him, always demanding more and more, no matter how much I give. I wonder what will happen when I have nothing to offer anymore." I took a deep breath. "Anyway, its okay, you don't want to live here, if he gets mad at me you will sure to be turtle soup, and neither one of us wants that. Actually, you're lucky, tomorrow I will take you to my family, they will take care of you, and you will be happy. My parents’ home is like a zoo anyway, we have a dog, two cats, pigeons, a parrot, two sheep who live in the back yard named Charles and Edward, and a goose named Sebastian. But I would stay away from him he has a superiority complex. Anyway, you will be very happy there."

"Did you say something?" my husband yelled back.

My God he has the hearing ability of a bat.

"Sure," I yelled back, "I was wondering if you wanted yogurt or salad with dinner?"

"Both."


Of course.

"THAT Rafael", I continued "is what a horses' ass sounds like."

No response. Raphael wasn't coming out of his shell; the drama frightened him in, for who knows how long. I petted the lovely shell, and thought about how lucky he was. Whenever the world gets too scary he can just hide into that shell of his, until the scary things go away. If only we were all so lucky.

Write me a story

Write me a story he says... Make it mine he says...Make me feel as though I am the only one who occupies your universe, use those words of yours and put me at ease. Weave a tale that takes me away from here and delivers me into your innermost thoughts and feelings, I am addicted to knowing what is inside of you..

you never talk anymore..

you never write anymore..

you never read to me..

Once upon a time, we would stay up nights, with a bottle of wine, and I’d read to him my stories, and we would recount our life, he’d watch me intently, a smile here, a sadness there, according to what I am saying, he would react and we would share. I didn’t know then, that it was away of controlling me, through my own words and feelings, and he’d use it all against me whenever he could. There is nothing more painful than having your own words used against you, your own life made an example, it knocks you hard, and causes a deep pain in your stomach and heart.

Should I tell him of the dreams I have? Should I tell him my fears? I used to allow him into my mind, share every word, now I can’t bear for him to see, my dreams that are wrapped up in suspicions of him?

Should I make this story a fantasy complete with happily ever after? Like a child asking for a bedtime story that never stops at just one. He asks me to write him a story. I could make it a love story that is never ending yet not without limits, obstacles and spaces of time that we will never be overcome.

Write me story about the future he says... Tell me what do you see?

Write me a story about physical love he says...

Write me a story about you he says...

I am right here and I have never hidden away from you. I may have been lost for awhile but I am not leaving again ever. It was you who found me lonely and broken, it was you and this writing that has pieced me back together. I am ever me, and you are ever you. No true beginning and no true end.

Write me a story about life he says... Write me a story about where we go from here he says...

To ease his fears, I write him the stories, fiction and lies in the genre I created, what ever would please him, I put in those stories, and he was happy to read of how happy we were.

I am his ghost writer. I am forever destined to be no more than a shadow. A figure in chalk outline, my stories fill the space within. They seep over the talcum edges and erase the uncertainty of all that is contained inside.

Write me a story he says... Make it mine he says...

Forever my love. I say. Forever mine. I say.

Once upon a time they lived Happily ever after.