That was our state when her brothers arrived to install the counter and shelves they had built in their shop. Nancy Ajram’s “Ah We Nos” was playing in the background to our madness.

“What the hell are you crazies doing?” Faisal seemed exasperated. “Sis, you can’t do this right now.” They had been working for three days straight, both at their regular jobs and later at the salon, neither of them getting much rest, and weren’t in the mood for play. Wadee was missing his fiancée. “She thinks I’m cheating on her,” he said. Faisal was a nervous wreck, expecting someone to discover the truck at any moment.

“My darling baby brothers. Go home and get some rest. Tomorrow the place will be fully painted and ready for you to install the counter and shelves. Just leave everything over there.” Jumana pointed toward the front of the store.

Jumana and I took a break to clean ourselves up and enjoy a glass of tea before getting back to work. Bilal and Ghassan couldn’t help out much during the day, since there was so much to do at the bakery, especially with Ramadan fast approaching.

“Is there another reason Ghassan only helps out here in the evenings after I’ve already gone?” I asked Jumana.

She didn’t look up from her tea. “He comes when I’m gone. You know how people love to talk.”

“That’s not the reason, is it?”

She sighed. “Yes.”

“Liar.”

She didn’t respond.

“He doesn’t like you being friends with me, does he?” I asked.

“Nahr.” She sighed again. “He’s a traditional Palestinian man. He’s a good man with a big heart.”

“But?” She hesitated. “He’s not used to women challenging him so much, that’s all.”

I sucked air in through my teeth. “Let’s get back to work,” I said, getting up.

“But he also really respects you. In fact, he admires you.”

It both surprised and pleased me to imagine what she said was true. “Really?”

“Yes, he said so more than once.”

We worked well into the evening, stopping only once more for sandwiches from the falafel cart across the street. We cleaned and painted in step to whatever played on the radio. We gossiped. We spoke about love, revolution, beauty hacks, food, and loneliness, Bilal, her brothers, Ghassan, the bakery, settlements, menstrual issues, astrology, livestock, stray cats, news from surrounding towns, politics, and why neither of us wanted children.

“I worry enough about my brothers, grown men, in this shitty situation. I don’t think I could survive worrying about my children having to deal with soldiers and settlers everywhere they turn,” she said. “What about you? Why don’t you want kids?”