Set out years ago
Dropped breadcrumbs
Some no bigger than dust particles
Of the soul
Along the roads and paths
Thought I’d find my way back,
There’d be time
There’d be years
Be months
Weeks
Days
Seconds
Left before the sand
Absconded with the hourglass
To find the trail of dust and crumbs
Sweep and pour them
Back into the soul
Add a few ingredients
Create once more
From the beginning
But birds and squirrels
Feasted on the leavings
And I’ve no desire
To return to where I started.
On her knees and white-knuckling the porcelain bowl, Samar awaited the next surge of morning sickness to spew forth. In the kitchen, Abdul was shrieking at one of his buddies on the prepaid cell phone she’d purchased for him at Wal-Mart yesterday.
“Pray God my baby isn’t a boy,” she implored and wretched the remainder (hopefully) of last night’s shawarma into the toilet bowl. Abdul appeared in the doorway. His brow wrinkled, and his mean-badger eyes squinted as he looked down at Samar. “I go away for a few days. Try to get this dump cleaned up for when I come back.” She nodded, still gazing into the bowl as if it were a crystal ball. A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. Go blow yourself up. Do the world a favor.
But she didn’t dare say it.
Samar waited for the slam of the door, got to her feet and into the shower.
There was a big day ahead. Huge, even.
On the bus ride across town, Samar’s insides bubbled with anticipation and excitement: the beginning of a brand new life was a mere three stops away. She watched out the window as the neighborhood signage changed from Arabic characters, to Latin, and finally to Hebrew. She realized her tenacity was paying off as the Hebrew letters began to transform themselves into words as she sounded them out in her mind.
One more stop.
Samar’s stomach flipped. She rifled through her purse in search of the compact mirror, but it was too late. The bus slowed to a stop at the corner of 53rd and 116th.
She thanked the driver and got off. Samar and glanced around, no Chasya in sight. Surely she hadn’t forgotten! Or what if something had happened? Samar plopped onto a wooden bench across from the bagel shop, fraught with worry. She returned the puzzled glances of passers-by with a nervous smile, searching every face for Chasya’s. Five minutes had passed, then ten. Finally, Chasya’s tiny frame came in to view; trotting toward Samar and smiling that smile that caused Samar’s heart to somersault. Together they sat on the bench. Had Samar and Chasya been any closer, they’d have been sitting one atop the other.
“Are you okay? Sorry I’m late. Where’s Abdul?” Chasya spoke quickly, yet in a gentle tone. Her dark eyes darted about in search of anyone or anything unusual.
Samar nodded and recounted the morning’s events. Chasya held her hand.
“It can’t be a boy, it just can’t be!” Samar wailed. And then the tears came, and came some more.
Chasya took Samar in her arms, rocking her trembling body back and forth. “It’s okay. Boy or girl…it will be okay. Nu? I promise you, my love. I promise you.” Chasya handed Samar a crumpled tissue from her jeans pocket.
Samar nodded and blew her nose. She managed a weak smile through her tears. “Nu.”
“Okay, then.” Chasya concluded. “You sure you’re ready?
“I’m ready.” Samar nodded. “I want to live the rest of my life as a Jew with you and my, no, I mean our baby.”
And together the two women, one in a hijab and abaya the other dressed in jeans and sweater, strode down the street. Hand in hand they climbed the stairs that lead to the future, and to the doors of Congregation Beth Israel.
“So, tell me, Marina…” Jackie began as she put her work away for the day. “What big plans do you have for Valentine’s Day?”
Marina shook her head and sighed. “I no have a the big plans. Is a very sad day for me. Very sad.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jackie replied. “Did you have a boyfriend back in Greece, and you miss him?”
“Well…yes and no.” Marina furrowed her brow. “Is complicate to exclaim a you.”
“You mean, explain.” Jackie wiggled into her coat on and tossed Marina hers. “Whaddaya say we blow this joint and have a few drinks at Bubbaloo’s?”
Marina shrugged. “Explain, exclaim…”
“My treat?” Jackie was on a mission to cheer-up her office mate. “C’mon, it’ll be fun!”
“‘Blow the zhoint?’ Zhackie, I no smoke a the Mary-wanna…”
Jackie giggled. “No, no! ‘Blow this joint’ is an expression. It means let’s go; let’s get out of here.”
“Oh.” Marina managed a weak grin. “You no have a the big plans too?”
“Hardly,” Jackie raised an eyebrow. “Look at me, for cripes sake. Who wants a 30-something, zit-faced, chubby-chub Valentine?”
“Chubby-chub? Zhackie, what this means?”
“It means…nothing. C’mon. You ready to toss back a few brewskis?”
Marina was not quite sure what ‘tossing back brewskis’ was all about, but she figured it beat sitting alone in her apartment. “Okay, I gonna blow a the zhoint, with a you, to the Bubbaloo’s.”
And off they went!
“Geez, Marina.” Jackie marveled. “You really know how to put away the Ouzo!”
“Opa!” Marina flung yet another appetizer plate to the floor with gusto. “I learn it, from a my papa.”
Fortunately for our heroes, Bubbaloo’s was the kind of place where damn near anything went.
“You right, a Zhackie.” Marina took her seat. “Is a time for me to settle it down.” She slammed the remainder of her drink, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and signaled the bartender for another round. “Like I tell a you. Is a hard day for me.”
“Wanna talk about it?” Jackie slugged back her Bud Lite and stifled a belch.
The bartender brought their drinks and Marina asked him for another plate of nachos. She pondered for a moment before beginning her story.
“There was a this guy. His name a Nikos. I love my Nikos with all a my heart and a soul.” Marina’s eyes welled up and her voice began to crack.
“Go slow,” Jackie soothed. “Take your time…”
Marina shook her head. “I gonna be okay.” Marina blew her nose into a cocktail napkin, and continued. “The Nikos, he decide he gonna be in a love with a my mama. My mama!”
“No way!”
The bartender brought their nachos, and seeing the women were in deep conversation, decided against cracking a joke about the broken plates.
“Oh, yes way! She leave a my papa and run away with a my Nikos…on a the Day, Valentine…to the island Crete.”
“Oh, Marina!” Jackie selected a limp nacho and shoved it in her mouth; a string of cheese dangled from her chin.
“Zhackie, he crash a my heart! My mama, she crash a my heart, too.” And then, came a the tears. “The whole world, it crash a my heart!”
“Wow…” Jackie’s mouth hung open in disbelief. She didn’t bother to correct her friend’s English, but handed her a napkin instead. “Your poor papa! And poor you! Holy…”
“But! You know a what I gonna do?”
“Break more plates?”
“Maybe later, but no a right now.” Marina reached across the table and with her thumb, wiped away the errant cheese from Jackie’s chin. “Zhackie, I gonna forget about a the men, and from now on, I gonna be in the love…with…a…you!
“With me?” Jackie swallowed hard and blinked. “But, I never…I mean…I don’t know…”
“I never, too.” Marina shrugged and sipped her Ouzo. “So, we figure out together.”
Jackie considered this through a fog of too many Bud Lites and soggy nachos. Why not give it a try? she thought. Nothing else seems to work… no guts, no glory, as they say…
She stood up, grabbed the greasy nacho plate and flung it to the floor. “Opie!” She beamed at her friend. “Marina, you’ve got yourself a girlfriend.”
Ergo, the Ogre 