She looked at Jennifer and screamed in Arabic for her to leave. Jennifer ran out, grabbing her shoes, but not stopping to put them on.

Ma slapped my face, cursed me, cursed America, cursed my father, and cursed God.

She burned the magazines and then dinner, which made Baba angry. But Ma decided not to tell him what I had done. I was not allowed to play with Jennifer after that.

I know this is what Ma was thinking when I told her about Mick and Patsy.

24 HALA Dress Up

24HALADress Up

To clear my head of Sharif, I decide to visit my mother’s uncle, Abu Salwan, and his family in Irbid. My father does not seem surprised, doesn’t try to dissuade me, and even offers to drive me there. I prefer to take the bus; it will give me a chance to be alone and think.

Just as I am saying good-bye to my father, Sharif appears. My heart skips a bit as he greets my father.

“I hope I have not, in any way, offended you,” he says when my father is out of earshot.

“No, not at all. I just wanted to visit my uncle while I am here.” I feel very uncomfortable, as if I’d told a lie and had got caught.

“At least let me drive you,” he says, his smooth voice tripping a bit.

I politely refuse his offer and say good-bye, hoping he doesn’t notice my clammy hands as we shake.

The bus is not full and I find a seat by the window. My father is out of sight. Sharif is leaning against his car, watching. I cannot see straight and my face feels hot.

The driver announces our departure. I wave at Sharif, who nods. Even as we drive, my thoughts are filled with Sharif and his punching bag and his strong arms, and his poems. Is this what it is like to leave a lover? Ridiculous thoughts. And then, as though I am watching an Indian movie, Sharif’s black Fiat appears next to the bus. He looks out of the window and up at me.

Following, following, no smiles. And then, finally, he pulls to the side of the road, gets out and watches the bus go. I turn my head at an impossible angle and watch until he is out of sight.

When I get off the Hijazi bus at the central bus terminal in Irbid, Abu Salwan is waiting for me. We drive the short distance to their house just outside one of the refugee camps.