A Hope More Powerful Than the Sea(28)

Doaa did as she was told and carefully carried some plates of hot food up a flight of stairs to Maisam and Shifaa’s apartment. Shifaa opened the door and smiled gratefully at Doaa when she saw the plates of food. “Thank you!” she gushed, giving Doaa a quick hug. “And tell your mother thank you. I can barely move, much less cook!” Doaa kissed Shifaa’s cheek, smiled down at her huge belly, then nodded to her cousin Maisam, catching a glimpse of the new visitor.

The first time Doaa saw Bassem, she was not particularly impressed. Modesty and custom prevented her from looking directly at a strange man. So as she entered the room, she kept her eyes lowered and went about quickly placing the dishes of food on a cloth in the center of the floor where the places were set. Doaa managed to steal a quick look at the young man’s profile and found him unremarkable.

After a few minutes, she excused herself, telling Maisam and Shifaa that she had to help Asma and her daughters pack because they were moving to Jordan the next day. Since Asma’s husband was still in Syria, they had decided to settle back in Irbid to be closer to him. Doaa hugged Shifaa, left the apartment, and promptly forgot all about Maisam’s young refugee friend.

The next morning, Shokri, Doaa, and her sisters helped Asma carry her heavy bags down five flights of stairs and loaded them into a taxi for the four-hour trip to the Alexandria airport.

Once at the checkin counter, officials looked at Asma’s ticket and noticed that it was one-way, but that she didn’t have a visa. They told her that the only way she could leave would be if she bought a return ticket for an additional $500. Asma burst into tears when she heard this news. She didn’t have that much money. Shokri explained to the airline official that they were poor refugees and that his daughter needed to rejoin her husband. “Let her go and we will pay later, please,” he begged.

The airline employee softened when he heard this and said, “You can have two days to get the money. I’ll change your ticket, just bring the cash.” Asma texted her husband in Syria, alerting him to what had happened and asking him to wire money, and the family made the long journey back home.

Back at the apartment, Doaa and each of her sisters grabbed a bag and struggled to haul them up the long flights of stairs to the apartment. Bassem entered the stairwell as Doaa, the last in the group, was lifting and dropping a suitcase one step at a time up the stairs. She was wearing a red veil, one of her favorites, and a long, flowing dress. Her face was flushed from the exertion.

“Can I help you?” Bassem asked as he reached out to take the suitcase. Seeing his gesture, Doaa held on more tightly to the handle and politely refused. Bassem, struck by the sight of this slight woman determinedly hauling a heavy suitcase up a flight of stairs, tried to insist, but that only made Doaa more adamant that she could do it herself. “I can manage just fine alone,” she said curtly. She wasn’t used to talking to men she didn’t know, but she also took pride in her ability to handle her own affairs and hated the idea of anyone pitying her, especially because she was a girl. She wouldn’t let a man she barely knew think she was weak. She continued to stubbornly drag the suitcase, step by step, up to the apartment.

Doaa didn’t think much of the episode, but Bassem was left enchanted. He rushed up to Maisam’s apartment, breathing hard from the climb, but also out of excitement, and asked, “What is the name of your beautiful cousin with the red veil?”

Maisam answered, “That’s Doaa! I told you that the night you arrived when she brought up our food. Or maybe that was Saja? I forget.”

“Is she engaged?”

Maisam grinned. “No.” Then thinking twice, he responded, “Neither of them is.”

“Good. I want her to be mine.” Bassem smiled. “There’s something about her. She has completely captivated me.”

Maisam shrugged, thinking that his friend had become a hopeless romantic, but glad to see him excited about something. Pursuing Doaa would be a good diversion for him, Maisam thought, as he watched Bassem move around the apartment with a new spring in his step.

Bassem had been solemn and reticent since he’d arrived in Egypt. He wouldn’t talk about what had happened in prison or of the death of his brother. He seemed to want to keep that experience cloistered away and to move on. If courting Doaa helped him get by, Maisam would help in whatever way he could.

A few days later, Bassem and Maisam packed up the few belongings in their apartment to move. Maisam and Shifaa had found a different building that had an equally affordable flat for rent on a lower floor, so Shifaa would have an easier time getting around once the twins were born. They invited Bassem to move with them.

Once they all settled into their new home, they invited the Al Zamel family to come visit for lunch. When Bassem answered the door, Doaa noticed that he had dressed for the occasion, wearing a crisply ironed shirt and dress trousers. His black hair was slicked back with gel, and a pronounced goatee protruded from his trimmed beard—a modern look. He fixed his dark almond eyes on Doaa’s the moment she entered the room, and throughout the meal he kept the conversation animated, making the guests laugh. Doaa kept feeling his gaze return to her, as if seeking her acknowledgment and approval.

On their walk home, Doaa turned to her sisters, asking, “Why was he looking at us like that?”

“I think he fancies you!” Saja said, grinning. Thinking that Saja just had an active imagination, Doaa made a face at her little sister.