Chapter Twelve
CATHERINE
Beirut, 1970
It was Christmas Day, and the overseas ringtones were long and drawn out. I sipped a bowl of chicken broth I’d made as a snack before dinner because my pregnancy came with hunger pains every ten minutes. My ears perked up when I heard my sister Margaret’s voice. “Hello?”
“It’s me, it’s CC. Merry Christmas!”
“Same to you! How are you? I’ve been hoping you’d call.” She muffled the receiver, and I heard her call out to my sister Colleen before returning to the phone. “What’s it like there?”
“It’s nice. Our apartment is clean and a little dull—lots of white everywhere—but Gabriel has promised to let me change things around. First thing will be painting the kitchen a light green, I think. How about you guys?”
“We’re all getting ready for brunch at the club. You just missed Mom. She dragged Mary Grace over to the neighbors to borrow a pair of tights. Dad’s had three Bloody Marys with Uncle David in the salon already, and Colleen and I are plotting our escape to meet up with Jack and Craig Denny behind the caddy shack. Mom will be too smashed later to notice. Not much has changed. We’re going to that new place, Gulliver’s, tonight. They have a disco there, and we’re meeting up with a huge crowd and some friends from the city. Now that Colleen is eighteen, she doesn’t need a fake ID anymore.”
I was a little envious. “No jelly-bean trail?”
She laughed. “Of course we did the jelly-bean trail! Just ’cause you abandoned the family doesn’t mean the rest of us have to suffer.”
Every year for as long as I could recall, my sisters and I would wake up Christmas morning to find my parents on the orange floral divan in the four seasons room that overlooked the yard, sharing a pitcher of Bloody Marys and a pot of coffee. Jessie would be in the kitchen preparing her famous holiday casserole consisting of eggs, ground sausage, chopped onions, and easily two pounds of cheddar cheese. She’d make four of them, and we’d reheat platefuls for a week.
While my sisters and I were eating breakfast, Mother, in her housecoat, would lay trails of jelly beans, one for each of us, that led to our Christmas stockings. It initially began as a ruse so that she didn’t have to hang the stockings by the fireplace. When I was five years old, my parents stuffed Margaret’s stockings and mine, hung them with care, and went to sleep. Around 3:00 a.m., a spark from the dwindling fire flew out onto Margaret’s stocking, caused some minor damage, and forever changed the mantel on Christmas morning. As a result, Santa invented the jelly-bean trails to guide us to the new location. Mom or Dad or Jessie would set out trails of jelly beans leading from the fireplace, through the family room, winding in different directions—one trail for each daughter as the family grew—and then we’d spend the morning walking through the house like it was a minefield until it was time to find our stockings. As silly as it sounds, my sisters and I looked forward to it every year.
“Did you get new underwear in your stocking?” I asked.
“You know I did.”
I smiled. “A journal?”
“Yes. Which I will place on my shelf right next to all my other empty journals. You’re the only one who ever uses those things.”
“And five bucks?”
“Believe it or not, you picked the wrong year to move away. We each got ten dollars and some candy. I stole Patricia’s Charleston Chew a few minutes ago.”
“Maybe you got ten because I left.”
“You might be right. Thank you,” she said.
Missing all my favorite traditions left me a little heartsick, but the holiday was almost over for me in Beirut, as it was eight hours later, so I was determined to make some new memories for Gabriel and myself.
“Are you feeling good, with the baby and everything?”
I looked at my stomach whenever anyone mentioned the baby. “I am. I feel good. Mom was able to get me the name of a doctor here, so I’m going to have my first visit with him next week after the holidays.”
“Wow, April seems so far away. Are you getting fatter?”
“Not too bad yet. Mostly looks like I had a big lunch.” Gabriel walked into the kitchen, where I was sitting at the table, and grinned when he saw me. “I should probably get going because we have dinner plans with our neighbors,” I said to Margaret, but Gabriel shook his head. “Please give my love to everyone.”
“Will do, CC. Merry Christmas.”
I placed the receiver on the phone base. Speaking with Margaret brought a huge smile to my face, but when I hung up, my smile faded and left me uneasy. I really missed my family and had no idea when I would see them again.
I turned to Gabriel. “Hi,” I said, and he planted a kiss on my lips. “Why’d you shake your head?”
“Our plans have changed.” He took my hands in his and sat.
“Oh? I was looking forward to spending some time with Brigitte and Sammy and the girls. And, of course, my newest friend, Reema.” I tilted my head. “Won’t they be offended if we cancel at the last minute? I promised Reema some bouzet ashta.” I butchered the pronunciation, and he laughed.
“You can bring it to her before we go to my cousin’s.”
“Your cousin?”
He let go of my hands and sat back in his chair, lighting a cigarette. “He’s like a cousin to me. Very prominent family. They live in Ras Beirut. He’s a member of parliament. There will be many other political families there and some American professors and their students. When he called to ask me, I knew you would feel much more at home there.”
“What’s his name?”
“His name is Danny. Danny Khalid.” Gabriel stood and blew smoke into the air.
“And you talked with Brigitte?” I asked.
“I talked with Sammy, of course. He is fine with any choice we make. They have a very full house as it is.” Gabriel walked out of the room for a second and then returned as I was clearing my broth from the table. I could feel him come up behind me, though he hadn’t made a sound. “Darling?” He placed an arm around my waist and pulled me close. I nearly dropped the bowl in the sink.
I leaned back into him. “Yes?”
“Close your eyes.”
I closed my eyes, and he kissed the back of my neck. “Turn around, but don’t open your eyes.”
He placed his lips on mine and then reached for the palms of my hands, kissing them and sending shivers through me. “I have a present for you.”
I smiled. “Can I see?”
“Not yet.” He took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom. “Don’t peek,” he said and began to unbutton my blouse. “Promise?”
“I promise.” Goose bumps covered my chest and arms as he slid my shirt off and then removed the rest of my clothing. My hands were resting on his shoulders when he knelt and kissed my belly and then lifted me onto the bed, where he kissed every other part of me as I relaxed beneath him, eyes tightly shut, skin tingling, ears ringing, and the essence of his cologne tickling the inside of my nose.
“Don’t break your promise,” he said as we lay entwined, trying to catch our breath. He dragged his fingertips between my breasts, which stilled at his touch when I felt something draped loosely around my neck. My hand went to it.
“You can open your eyes,” he said.
I lifted the gift off my skin and sat up. It was a gold chain with a teardrop emerald the size of a quarter hanging from the center. “Gabriel,” I said, eyes wide. “I don’t even know what to say. This is magnificent.” He sat, naked, and went behind me to assist with the clasp.
“I love you, Catherine Clarke.”
I leaned back into him, our bodies warm and bare. One kiss was all it ever took to remind me how much I loved him. I felt the sting of joyful tears. “Please hold me,” I implored. “Thank you so much.” I wrapped my fingers around the pendant and folded myself in his arms.
“I want you to be happy here,” he whispered in my ear.
“I’m happy wherever you are.”
An hour later, we walked outside, hand in hand, and Walid was waiting at the curb to drive us to the home of Danny Khalid. I smacked Gabriel on the chest. “You did not make him come out on Christmas!”
“He’s fine with it.”
“I’m so sorry to disturb your holiday with your family. We can easily get a taxi,” I said to Walid as he approached, causing Gabriel to let go of my hand.
“It is my honor.” He bent forward a little and opened the passenger door.
Gabriel stopped me and abruptly grabbed my bicep. “Do not disregard me like that in front of him, CC.” He squeezed so hard, my knees buckled.
“You’re hurting me.” I met his eyes.
“I have hired him, and that is it. There is nothing more to be said, and he certainly does not wish to think you don’t want him here, or worse, are disagreeing with what I’ve asked him to do.” He let go.
“OK. Of course.”
The Khalids’ home was stunning. Built with a wine-colored brick exterior, it had three archways—each with its own ornate wreath—that lead to a cherry-red front door. A servant let us in and took our coats, which reminded me of the holiday parties my aunt and uncle would throw. There was always a coat check, regardless of how big or small the guest list. The foyer was long and wide, with marble tables on both sides, and a crimson carpet running the length of the room, leading guests to a ballroom. To our left was a five-piece orchestra, and to our right, buffet-style tables filled with delicacies, both traditional and American, as guests kept telling me when they found out where I was from.
“We have hot dogs and hamburgers for you and our American friends!” Danny boasted after embracing me. “You are good with that?”
“Of course I am. Thank you for having us.”
“And New York cheesecake!” He elbowed Gabriel. “My professor friends who teach at the school, they are always going on about the cheesecake.” His excitable demeanor reminded me of a wealthier and more sophisticated version of Walid.
“Well, now that I’m here—and with child—they will have to fight me for it,” I joked. “Cheesecake is my favorite.”
Danny threw his arms in the air, said something in Arabic I did not understand, and proceeded to hug Gabriel and lift him off his feet. Once Gabriel was back on the ground, Danny took my hand.
“Many congratulations to you, Catherine.” He smiled at Gabriel. “How truly wonderful for you.” He put his hands in a prayer position and bowed to us. “I wish you many blessings.”
“Thank you very—”
“Yasmine!” he yelled over his shoulder.
A slim woman in a long black sleeveless dress glanced over at him. Her hair was slicked back and pulled into a tight knot. She had a cigarette holder dangling from one hand, and her dark eyebrows were arched to perfection, reminiscent of the Evil Queen in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.
“Come.” He waved to her when she did not move.
I shifted uncomfortably in my heels and touched my pendant. I could see her apologize to the group she was with before slowly heading over to us.
“You know Gabriel,” Danny said, and she gave my husband an odd look. “And this is his very beautiful new wife, Catherine, who is carrying their baby!”
She stared at my hair first, as most people did, especially in a country where natural blondes were scarce. Then her eyes landed on my emerald, then made their way down again, pausing at my belly, and finished at my shoes. I would’ve felt less self-conscious standing there naked.
“We should have them for dinner, yes?” Danny was still talking.
“We are having them now,” she said coolly.
Unfazed by his wife’s indifference, he went on. “You will come again, maybe next week or after the New Year. Have you taken her to Beit Chabab yet?”
Gabriel looked uncomfortable at the question. He drew me close, sensing my discomfort. “We just got here a few days ago. We’ve hardly left the apartment.”
“You will enjoy it there, in the mountains,” Danny said. “Maybe you can introduce Catherine to some of your American friends?” he suggested to Yasmine. “Make her feel welcome.”
“Danny.” She said his name in a tone that sounded innocent enough, but he recognized whatever annoyance was behind it. We all did. “I was just in the middle of a conversation over there.”
“It’s fine. Please don’t worry about it,” I said. “I’ve got plenty of friends.”
That got her attention. “I won’t worry about it.” She turned to my husband. “Congratulations on the baby.”
“Thank you, Yasmine. Wonderful to see you both again, and thank you for hosting us tonight.”
“What are two more people?” She made a dismissive gesture with her hand and slithered back to where she was standing before.
I looked at Gabriel, trying to convey what I was feeling with my expression, but he just kissed me.
“Lovebirds,” Danny said and embraced us both. “Go eat and drink and be merry together.” He walked away and was immediately greeted by someone else.
“I hope to never see that woman again,” I said to Gabriel.
“Neither of you were very friendly to each other.”
I turned to him and crossed my arms. “Don’t even pretend you did not notice how inexplicably rude she was. And for what?”
He put an arm around my waist and pulled me in as if a hug would fix everything.
“I mean it,” I said. “Danny is lovely, but if he forces her to invite us to dinner, please decline or go without me.”
Two things made me rummage through boxes that night looking for my journals. The first was the fact that Margaret had reminded me how much I loved—and missed—writing in them, and the second was my disdain for Yasmine Khalid. My journal entry that night read in part: Just met the most awful woman on the planet.