Chapter Twenty-One
CATHERINE
Beirut, 1971
There was little I could do to hide my excitement on December 21, the day before I was due to fly back to Connecticut. A place that I hadn’t been in more than a year. A year in which I’d moved to Chicago, gotten pregnant, moved to Lebanon, given birth, and become terrified my husband would confine me again at a moment’s notice. Brigitte brought me lunch that day, and her eldest daughter came over with Reema to watch Ann Marie for me.
There was laughter between us. Brigitte was once again preparing for Christmas dinner with family and neighbors—as she had been the year before when we’d first met—and she and I had spent the week wrapping presents and decorating the stairwell and our respective balconies with lights and wreaths. Walid had driven me and Gabriel and the baby to get a tree a couple of weeks ago, and it stood in our family room in a large corner between the couch and the balcony doors. There were gifts underneath for Ann Marie and myself and a new watch I’d bought for my husband. We agreed to open everything when I returned.
“I’m so happy for you, Catherine.”
“Thank you. I really can’t believe it,” I said.
“And I’m very proud of Gabriel for what he’s done.”
I gave her a questioning look.
“Just that he came to this decision on his own. He knows how much this means to you.”
I opened my mouth and was about to say that my daughter should’ve met her family long before then, that the only reason he’d done this was because I’d connived him and led him to believe I was content to be here for the rest of my life. But I simply nodded instead. “Yes.” She knew the sacrifices I’d made to appease him.
“Are those all the bags you are taking?” she asked and pointed to the two small suitcases by the front door.
“There’s one more duffel bag in the baby’s room with her toys and diapers and a change of clothes for the plane. And then a larger suitcase on my bed, too. We Americans don’t pack light.” I winked at her. “I’ve also bought some gifts for my sisters and mom as well that are taking up most of one of the smaller ones. I didn’t want to show up empty-handed after all this time.”
There were still plenty of clothes hanging in my closet and folded up in my dresser. I’d packed almost all of Ann Marie’s things, though, because she really didn’t have very much other than little rompers and pajamas. Mother had sent a velvet holiday dress when she didn’t know we’d be visiting, so I packed that as well, along with some little bootees and ruffled diaper covers.
Later that evening when Gabriel came home, there was a distance about him. He smiled and ate the dinner I made—lamb stew with fried eggplant—but he didn’t have much to say. I’d prepared all sorts of answers to questions that he never asked of me: Who are you most excited to see? What will you do if the baby fusses on the plane? Who’s picking you up at the airport? He’d shown very little interest in the trip. His body language seemed to scream regret over buying the ticket, but he wasn’t interested in speaking with me, so I couldn’t say for sure.
I thought he’d spend more time with Ann Marie or maybe want to put her to sleep that night, but it was very much business as usual, even a little cold. He and I shared a drink on the balcony after dinner, and then he made some phone calls and went to bed. He couldn’t know how I was feeling about our relationship because he never asked and I never broached the subject. I began to understand my parents’ relationship more once I had my own glimpse into marriage. Even after only one year, and what was still meant to be the honeymoon stage, I found myself coexisting with my husband, just as I’d seen my mother do over the years. I’d assumed it was because they’d been married for twenty-four years, but maybe all relationships were the same back then? You avoid saying things that you know will anger your spouse. You put on airs to let everyone around you think you’re happy and that everything is perfect. I remember Brigitte’s initial reaction to hearing about the discord between Gabriel and me and how she was almost shocked I was confiding in her. She’d overheard us arguing, but rather than ask what we’d been arguing about, she was more concerned with how I should avoid it happening again altogether. She’d coached me on how to be submissive, and while I’d mocked it at first, in the end her guidance might have just saved me.
The next morning Gabriel kissed the baby and me and left for work. Business as usual. He left the necessary paperwork needed for me to take Ann Marie out of Lebanon on my own and without him. She was a citizen of both America and Lebanon, but Lebanon had much stricter laws regarding having their young citizens removed without the father being present, or his written permission. I told him I’d call him on Christmas, and if he weren’t home, I would try Brigitte and Sammy’s number. Once he was gone, I made the bed and cleaned up the house and put a load of laundry in the dryer. I would be gone before it was done, so I left a note for him on the kitchen table.
Brigitte had to work that morning, so I left a holiday card and a box of pistachio cookies for the girls and a plastic tea set especially for my little Reema. Brigitte knew I had a special place in my heart for that girl. I used to say that her face was the first thing in that country to make me smile.
But what Brigitte didn’t know—what no one knew—was that I had no intention of ever coming back.
I waved to Walid from my balcony, and he ran upstairs to help me with the bags. I thought about taking the rest of the items in my drawers, at least my favorite summer things like my white slacks and my yellow gingham bikini, but I didn’t want Gabriel to have any suspicions before I arrived in Connecticut. Once all the bags were in the car, Walid took Ann Marie and got her settled.
“I’ll be right down,” I shouted to him, then went and grabbed the cash I’d kept hidden in my lingerie drawer.
In the baby’s room, I reached into the box of diapers where I’d originally hid the plane ticket Laura had sent me. I folded it up and zipped it into my pocketbook so no one would ever find it. I didn’t think Brigitte would ever mention it, for her own sake, but if she did . . . there would be no evidence.
Twelve hours later, we landed in Westchester.
Forty-eight hours after that, I sent Gabriel a telegram saying that I wanted a divorce.