by Abufares
You look perfect together
Good luck 
I read Farid’s short message on my mobile phone and simpered quietly. He was probably having fun with the guys in Lattakia but thoughtful enough to send his words of support. He and May, his wife, have tried to hook me up with an interesting friend or a pretty relative a million times over the years. I always appreciated their concern but also felt awkward. There was nothing inherently wrong with me. For all practical purposes I “am” a decent man, a little distant perhaps but not out of hauteur. I was rather coy with genuine modesty, weary with the burden of broken promises and despaired of ever finding a woman; the woman who would change my outlook on life and give me meaning and purpose. I often dreamed of an Amar illuminating the dark of night in search of me. And, having found what she was yearning for my moon would spawn silver rays of light turning the invariant gray into a rainbow of bliss. No longer would I fear the treacherous shallow waters, jagged with knives of coral and ragged with spears of rock. She would show me the way, a lighthouse beckoning at me, be safe my Youssef, I’m here for you… forever.
We reached the entrance to the little garden surrounding the quaint building where she was staying. The landlord, Walid, lived with his family on the ground floor. Up the flight of stairs, Amar told me, two little apartments shared the western veranda with a magnificent view of the sea. I was not gawky at all when I took her little hand in mine and kissed it softly. I had a long way ahead to reach then to hold on to her and I had no intention whatsoever to be careless. My mind was perfectly clear, my heart calmly set.
“Goodnight Amar”, I spoke softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning and bring you the stuff you need from the bookstore.”
She hesitated then, “Are you sure I’m not monopolizing your time. I mean really Youssef. You must have responsibilities, some sort of obligations…”
“Please stop it Amar.” I interrupted. “I’m on summer break. Sure I drive a couple of times per week to the university in Lattakia but not out of necessity. I mainly go to have an espresso at a corner cafe in the Amerkan area. There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing than spending my time with you. Besides I’m truly and genuinely in love with castles and fortresses. I plan to show them all to you. As lovely as Sea Breeze and this village are you still need to see the rest of the coast.”
It was her turn to interrupt me. “And there’s no one else I want to have as my guide. But, …” She hesitated again, “you know that I would be leaving Syria back to Canada in a month, and…”
“I’ll be here at nine. I’ll bring breakfast, Msabha and Fool from the old town. I’ll also bring the hot Mashrouh bread from the bakery. Pickles, fresh green mint, I think I’ll skip the onions though.” I laughed for her.
“I like onions”, she said, “and I have no reason why I shouldn’t eat them. Do you?” She had that lovely mal’ouneh look on her gorgeous face again.
“Not at all. I’ll bring onions and lots of garlic just for you.” I laughed, earnestly this time. “Get the table set and tea ready on the veranda so that we eat then leave. The Marqab Castle is not far but if we were to see it all we should give ourselves ample time.” I grinned, the very same way she told me less than an hour ago over by the sea that she really liked before she, for no reason at all, changed the subject.
—–
I was getting in my car near the front entrance of the cafe when I noticed a solitary man waiting by the highway for a micro-bus to take to Tartous or some small village along the way. I have seen him before. He was staring at me from the kitchen’s door when I had my little talk with Yasmina yesterday.
“I’m going to Tartous,” I said, “and if you’re on my way you’re welcome to hop along.”
He dithered for a passing instant then opened the front passenger’s door and climbed in without uttering a word. He stared through the windshield as if he was driving and didn’t give me a second look.
“I’m Youssef Khalil.” I introduced myself. “Can you please fasten your seat belt?”
He rolled his eyes in disbelief. He wanted me to realize that my request was too nerdy for his big and silent type persona. I could care less. He complied though but remained uninterested in pursuing any further conversation. For five complete minutes, I drove in silence and totally ignored him.
“I’m Yazan,” he proclaimed all of a sudden. It was dark and I couldn’t see his face clearly. He kept, however, looking ahead while he talked. “So you are a doctor, I hear! A gynecologist perhaps?”
“You know Yazan”, I replied without taking my eyes off of the road, “A friend of mine, a physician, once told me that the best specialty in medicine for the purpose of pursuing and picking up women is pediatrics. The mothers are fit and young. Besides, when a perfectly healthy woman comes alone to the doctor’s office with her child, dressed up, smelling nice and looking pretty that’s the best any doctor could ever dream of examining, with his eyes if not with his hands at least. Gynecology is too messy and way over-rated in my opinion.”
He burst out laughing and finally thought that I deserved being talked to. “I’m sorry. I knew you were an English professor. Yasmina already told me. I’m Yazan Moussa. I’m the cook at that dump.”
“So you are responsible for that most delicious Mezza and the sea food delicacies. By the way, the Sea Breeze is not a dump at all. I honestly think it’s the best little restaurant I’ve ever been to.”
He softened up quite noticeably. I could see that he was not a talkative man but when we both faced each other in the car I felt an authentic goodness emanating from him despite his effort to conceal it.
“So where did you learn how to cook,” I asked truthfully interested.
“Oh, I traveled the sea for many years. I worked as a chef on large general cargo ships and been all over the world. I learned a trick or two about cooking but look where I am now.” He painted his face with a sarcastic smirk, not at all convincing.
I don’t know what got into me but it was the first thing that came to mind. “Perhaps you are there because there is something you can’t stay away from.” I obviously meant someone in particular and we both knew it.
“You can drop me anywhere you like and thank you for the ride.” He said quickly as we barely entered the city from the north. I was not sure whether my incursion further irritated him or not. He was a difficult man to read.
I insisted on driving him all the way to his apartment. He lived in one of the newer neighborhoods of Tartous, the Sixth Project as it was called. I knew it by name but rarely went there, if hardly at all. We shook hands and an ephemeral trace of a smile appeared on his facial furrows and lines rather than on his mouth. I was far from gifted when it came to possessing omniscient faculties but I had an overpowering feeling that Yazan and I would meet again. Not casually for I might see him every time I go to the cafe. It was more arcane than that. Something told me that our fates converged for a purpose tonight. For a person like me, who could be described as agnostic at best, the feeling was very unsettling.
—–
I drove along Mar Elias Avenue toward the Corniche. At the second fountain, where Cinema El-Nejmeh once proudly stood and brought the magic of the movies to my doorstep, I made a right turn down Al-Mina St. The theater, like everything else I loved about my city had disappeared and only survived as an engraved memory in my head.
“I was born in Kingston, Ontario.” Amar told me as we walked earlier on the beach. “I would love to be able to show you around some day, especially in the fall.” Like a little child she spoke excitedly, looking back and forth at me then toward the distance West. “On a sunny day, when the trees are bright with color and back-dropped with the gray limestone of the buildings, it can almost feel as though you’re walking in a dream. It’s hard to explain really. But whenever someone mentions Kingston, this and the bright blue waters of the lake come to mind.”
I never wanted to be anywhere else. Even in London where the whole world was at my feet, I missed Tartous. When I returned, however, I realized that I was missing her in a different time, a time which had ceased to exist all together. I stood on my balcony, a generous glass of Scotch in hand, captivated by a late evening fog descending on the harbor and thick enough to obscure all view of the sea. I downed my drink with a consuming thirst and instantly felt the amber tendrils caressing my being. The mist dissipated and vanished like magic in thin air. Beyond the black silhouettes of shore cranes and the dancing lights of moored ships I saw the colored trees, the limestone buildings and the bright blue waters of a lake. I was yearning for a place I had often visited in my dreams. I opened my eyes and swallowed hard, my longing inevitable. At long last, I was homesick.
© Mariyah Ayoub and Mariyah’s Blog, 2008-2009. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Mariyah Ayoub and Mariyah’s Blog with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
Mariyah
abufares
Joseph said,
October 2, 2009 at 12:05 pm
Saba7o Mariyah Saba7o Abufares,
“At long last, I was homesick”… I would say, at long last, you’re truly in love.
God help you.
Have a nice day.
abufares said,
October 2, 2009 at 3:49 pm
Hi Joseph … Sabah el Nour
Is it me you’re talking about or is it Youssef???
Joseph said,
October 4, 2009 at 3:23 am
Well Abufares, you, know better!
Neetu said,
October 2, 2009 at 1:44 pm
hello abufares,
Though i m not good with words (cannot express wht i feel) but everytime i read i can feel through the words what u and mariyah are creating.
With best regards,,
Neetu
abufares said,
October 2, 2009 at 3:51 pm
Hi Neetu
You and your words are more beautiful than each other. Actually, I can’t make up my mind. I’m so grateful you’re here for Mariyah and me.
I look forward reading your comments and thank you from deep inside for your encouragement and support.
Pearl said,
October 2, 2009 at 5:33 pm
Dammit ya abufares, my eyes teared up reading the last part about him missing Tartous at a different time, place (ya Allah mennak!!!)…I’m still fairly young, but I feel like that when I get nostalgic about Sham and my childhood…and I know my father feels the exact way that Youssef feels about how he misses his mothercity…
Ya haram, he’s falling hard…
But, I’m looking forward to meeting Yazan again…
abufares said,
October 2, 2009 at 5:51 pm
Ahhh Pearl
I guess no matter how good a writer is his best words are those that come from the heart. I think I put too much of me in Youssef in that last nostalgic part. I have to be careful from now on. It’s my feelings that many readers are smart enough to detect that. Look what Joseph wrote! Well that’s Joseph though and he has a way of getting in between the letters of a word.
When Mariyah brought in Yazan she really opened up the plot. I’m very excited with the possibilities. I already see a road or two ahead. The ball is in her court now (I wish I can be in her court too:-) I can’t wait for her to pick up the lead and venture further ahead.
Thank you and I look forward reading and replying to your comments always.
Joseph said,
October 4, 2009 at 3:29 am
Now Abufares, let’s not start a rumor. I have to admit, you’ve put a smile on my face…Thank you.
Gabriela said,
October 2, 2009 at 6:10 pm
I have never tried Msabha nor Fool nor Mashrouh bread. In fact, I’ve never heard those names until today. And still, I could taste them. That is something I can’t explain.
That’s the magic of words, the magic you both are giving us here.
I’ve never been away from Lima for a really long time. But on the few tiomes I’ve been away, I miss all about her. So I can totally share that sense of being homesick you describe here.
Beautiful…
abufares said,
October 2, 2009 at 6:21 pm
Oh Gabriela
This place lights up when you comment.
First I want you to know (and see) what Msabha, Fool and Mashrouh bread taste and look like, so please check out this old post of mine:
http://www.abufares.net/2006/12/mousabbaha-breakfast-of-champions.html
Then about being homesick. It’s most painful when one is at home yet feels homesick. This is what poor Youssef is going through. And, apparently only Amar can help.
Gracias Gabriela!
Pearl said,
October 2, 2009 at 7:11 pm
Abufares, Mariyah…(and anyone else?)
Here’s the address to my story blog. I’m not sure how to create “categories” so I just created a new blog altogether for this (I’ll get the hang of it soon I hope). Chapter 1 is short, just to set a mood. I hope to have Chapter 2 up in the next couple of days…
http://pearlsearch.blogspot.com/
abufares said,
October 10, 2009 at 1:26 pm
Hi Pearl
I tried to go to your Blog but couldn’t. Please check the link you provided above. I would love to read you so come and get it right, please!!!
Neetu said,
October 2, 2009 at 9:18 pm
hi abu fares,
i m not able to post my comment.
Neetu said,
October 2, 2009 at 9:42 pm
abufares
Now tht u r talking about food icannot stop myself frm mentioning tht i really love food from ur country (tabooleh, spinach fatayer, wine leaves and many more and last but not the least i do like arak).
Neetu
abufares said,
October 3, 2009 at 11:53 am
You know Neetu, last night I read your comment as I had a glass of Arak in hand. It was such a surprising coincidence and I drank your toast
Neetu said,
October 3, 2009 at 11:05 pm
kasak abufares
Katia said,
October 3, 2009 at 1:12 am
Speechless…
Thank you
abufares said,
October 3, 2009 at 12:09 pm
There are 2 types of Speechless:
1) The Oh Booo speechless
or
2) The Oh WoW speechless
You should’ve been more specific.
Katia said,
October 3, 2009 at 12:20 pm
Come on Abufares, would the Oh Booo speechless ever be followed by a “thank you”?
I loved it
I’m not very wordy in my expressions lately, but if you need more, let me know and I’ll do my best
abufares said,
October 3, 2009 at 12:50 pm
I enjoy verbose comments Katia. They appeal to the dormant child in me, in constant need of pampering and spoiling:-)
Mariyah said,
October 3, 2009 at 7:14 am
Beautiful. Simply beautiful. I believe you have rendered me speechless as well, my friend.
abufares said,
October 3, 2009 at 12:48 pm
Mariyah
Your beautiful mind rendered me into a writer with such an ardent desire to free my successive paragraphs to court each other, sentences to dance and words to embrace then make love on or between the lines.
Our writing together is like a couple of kids learning how to ride a bicycle for the first time. They take turns and wobble left and right unable to hold a steady course. That’s how our earlier episodes were. Eventually they acquire the basic and most important skills: Letting go of all inhibitions, losing any sense of self-consciousness and maintaining momentum. Our kids are moving down a straight path in a peaceful park now. Soon enough we’ll let go of them so that they venture alone on an obscure and interestingly twisted track. By instinct, they will know where to go.
No matter where you lead I’ll follow and I’m so positive that you too feel the same way. The kids are riding in tandem now. Oh, I forgot to mention that the bike was a two-seater all along.
Thank you Marroush for sharing with me the ride of my life.
Yazan said,
October 3, 2009 at 8:54 am
Every new part, I think to myself, “This is my favorite part.” I love the slow build up to the climax, because it makes me feel like a little kid walking on the first day of school, and wondering what happened to his sweetheart from last year.
The story is magnificent, and the writing just sets my mind on fire. I can’t wait for the next part.
abufares said,
October 3, 2009 at 1:00 pm
It took a Yazan, Yazan, to get you to comment again. Well you know how much I enjoy your writing, first on your own blog (which has become too scarce, again) and of course in your always poignant comments.
I can’t begin to tell you how liberating writing Sea Side is. How addictive and how breathtaking to post then wait for Mariyah. Every time her episode comes on line I dread that I’m going to finish reading it even before I start. Like a glass of 24 year old Scotch, it’s to be consumed in a matter of minutes. So I sip it slowly and when it’s over the only way to get me giddy again is to start writing my part.
That’s how it is with me, that’s how much I’m enjoying Sea Side.
Thank you my friend for dropping by.
Yazan said,
October 3, 2009 at 3:06 pm
I know I’ve been sparse in my comments, and it’s not because I have nothing to say (not this time anyway). I honestly feel like I am reading one of my favorite books, and the one thing I wanna do is to keep silent and read more, until I turn the last page, then I can reflect on it well, and enjoy the lingering taste in the back of my head.
Yazan did make smile a bit. It’s not easy for a Yazan to imagine how other Yazan(s) are, I guess.
If I haven’t said this enough, Mariyah and Abu Fares, you are a joy to read. Scotch, indeed.
abufares said,
October 3, 2009 at 5:24 pm
Yazan, as much as I like your comments it’s your writing on your own blog that I miss more.
I always look forward your next post but they are getting to be too far apart.
I’m sure Mariyah will thank you on her own for your nice words.
Cheers my friend!
Karin said,
October 4, 2009 at 3:59 am
The story totally captured me – I couldn’t stop reading! I can literally sense the atmosphere, smell the smells, tasts – it is like magic! You guys are FANTASTIC … it doesn’t happen often that I don’t know what to say but, with the story being THAT intriguing, I am standing in awe …
Looking forward already to part 13 … and 14 … and 15 … and and and … !!!!!!
abufares said,
October 4, 2009 at 10:51 am
You know Karin… In an ideal world, Mariyah and I would be sitting together and writing back and forth full time (or almost:-) until we finish Sea Side. However, in that case I would’ve made sure it consists of 20 large volumes at least so that it takes us years and years to complete, if ever. Such is the joy of this collaboration. We have no idea how long this particular story will last but it’s my hope that this is only the beginning.
Thank you Karin for being there (for me in particular since day 1) and now for both Mariyah and me. Looking forward seeing you in this hospitable place … always.
Katia said,
October 4, 2009 at 9:19 pm
Dear Abufares,
I know I said I’d do my best but I don’t think my verbosity would do your writing any justice. Beside, I said I loved it, and, really, is there better or more than a genuine “I love”?
abufares said,
October 5, 2009 at 10:23 am
Oh Katia
Now I’m blushing… lol, I can’t even imagine myself blushing.
Thank you as always for your wonderful support. Although Mariyah and I feel at times that we are writing for each other (while I’m writing this is really how I feel) we couldn’t go on without your wonderful words, no matter how few or how many they are. The fact that someone out there appreciates what we’re doing makes it so much sweeter.
It’s very important to remember the point behind our collaboration. We both think we’re good enough to start writing our own novels (no point in showing false modesty) but we lacked several important and influential factors. We could not commit 100% of our time to writing, we are not highly experienced although we might be talented and we needed to test our own beliefs in ourselves. While Mariyah has already written her own online short novel I haven’t done any piece longer than a thousand words.
This is our training ground and we’re enjoying it beyond anything we’ve ever known before.
How about that for verbose, lol???
Fantasia Lillith said,
October 6, 2009 at 9:42 pm
Lovely as always and many twists and turns to come it seems. My heart ached for your character – although I sense that a lot of this is in fact a reflection of your own feelings. I feel that way at times, for Europe where I grew up. I miss the old stones. I am blessed to be in a city that is growing and thriving in all the right ways. Restaurants, theatre, festivals …. yet with all this comes … a loss. Nothing like what you mention above but still. I recall festivals on a smaller scale, a sense of intimacy that has gone.
abufares said,
October 7, 2009 at 2:28 pm
Fantasia
At heart I have always been a small town boy. I like to visit all the great and large cities in the world and I’ve been in quite a few but I can’t see myself living in such a place.
Tartous is my hometown not by choice. It could’ve been anywhere else and I would’ve loved it the same. I’m that kind of person.
However, urbanization in 3rd world countries did not evolve properly but rather inflicted, expanded then consumed little villages and towns and even larger cities like a cancer. My sweet hometown by the sea was as beautiful and serene as any small fishing community in the south of France at the time I was growing up. In 1970 I believe that the population of Tartous was around 12,000. Today it’s over 180,000, a 1500% increase in 40 years in both size and population. Very little of what I grew up with remains. My past was swept away by concrete.
In the words of Youssef, “At long last, I’m home sick for a place I can call home.”
I wonder where that will take him
Fantasia Lillith said,
October 7, 2009 at 6:34 pm
And they call it progress ….