“She started out nice, thinking I was Jewish, but wanting to know what I was doing there parked on the side of the road. I told her I was just admiring the houses because I was thinking of moving into the area. I did my best to sound Jewish, but they can tell from the way we talk, or how we stand or whatever. So she started getting louder, telling me to leave before she called the police. She accused me of plotting to rob her house. She asked if ‘the Arab woman’ sent me. I didn’t know what she meant, but apparently an Arab woman came by a couple of months ago claiming that that was her childhood home. Then she—”

“What else did she say about the Arab woman?” I interrupted him.

“That she was a terrorist. Apparently the Arab woman saw the gate open and helped herself into the garden. The Jewish woman found her there crying and, well, you can imagine the scene. I’m sure the Arab woman left in tears.”

Bakir thought for a moment. “I’m such an idiot! Was she talking about your mother? Was your mother here two months ago?”

It was surely Mama. Now I knew why she had refused to speak of it when I asked her in Amman. It was too painful. I wished I had beaten that woman more. I wished I could have walked around the side to see the main entrance, to peek over the mountain and see the ocean as my mother would have done every day of her childhood. I wondered if Mama had done that when she came to see her home, or if she too hadn’t made it beyond the garden.

The next morning, Bilal pushed one of his daily newspapers toward me as we sipped our coffee.

“What’s this? Did you mean to show me the Hebrew paper?”

“I know you can’t read it, but you might want to keep it as a souvenir,” he said.

“Really? It’s in their newspapers?” I said, leafing through the pages.

“Yeah.” Bilal chuckled. “The article is about an Arab woman who assaulted a Jew in her garden. It quotes neighbors and the police saying more should be done to protect Jews who can’t even feel safe in their own homes from the Arabs.”

“Ugh. There aren’t any pictures. I’d like to see what she looks like now.” I put the paper down.

“I had no idea you were so scrappy.” Bilal smiled at me. “Bakir already got rid of the car. He keeps telling me how insanely fast and powerfully you laid that woman out.”

“So long as he’s telling just you.”

“Don’t worry. Bakir is no fool,” he said.