The Blind Beggar: Part XXII

Across town, Amal wrestled with her emotions as her mind was pulled back to Ali’s touch when they were face to face for the first time in many years.  The trace of his fingers was still palpable.  She wanted to see him again but didn’t know how it could ever happen.  Since marrying before her sixteenth birthday, she suppressed her childhood dreams.  Now as an adult, she realized how few dreams she had.  She could reduce them all to one request.  She wanted to be happy. 

As a child, she was happy playing with her family, cousins and other friends.  She cherished memories of games, chasing one another and the simplicity of her life.  Her family wasn’t rich but they also weren’t poor.  Her father worked constantly to provide for his family.  He was a stern man.  He grew up in difficult circumstances and believed work, hard work, was the only way out of poverty.  He spent his life proving that belief.

Around time Amal began to understand her father’s regular absences were due to work that a young boy appeared while she and her cousins were playing.  Using her adult mind, she saw through her child’s eyes her first impressions of the boy.  She saw heartache but a strong hope for acceptance.  For about an hour, he sat on a low wall watching the chaotic actions of children at play.  How he must have wanted to be included.  How he must have wished someone would notice him sitting there.  Alone. 

She saw him.  She knew her cousins and family saw him but they continued playing.  After about thirty minutes, but children have little concept of time, there was a lull in the action.  Amal took that opportunity to walk up to the boy.  His eyes observed her movement toward him.  His eyes were hopeful and fearful at the same time.  He detected openness in her body language and not aggression.  Amal laughed at the moment now.  Children don’t care about protocol.  They go right to the point.  She walked up to him and asked, “You wanna play?”

The boy smiled, nodded and hopped down from the wall.  Amal grabbed his left hand and pulled him to the group.  She proudly called out to her family, “This is my new friend.”  Amal had forgotten it was more than a week before Ali felt comfortable arriving at the play area and joining in without being asked.  What had happened that he was so afraid to join in play with other children?  What had happened to Ali since then?

Like when they were children, Amal wanted to reach out to Boulos, her Ali, and protect him.  Was it a maternal instinct?  Though she felt free do that as a child, she knew to hide it from her parents.  She instinctively understood they would not approve.  She was certain her husband would never understand or accept.  Like her father, he worked hard to provide for his family and he sometimes had a temper.  

Per her nature, Amal lived her life trying to appease.  She always worked to alleviate potential problems before they happened.  Now she plainly saw two parts of her life colliding.  How could she stop this from happening?  She consigned herself to the belief she could never feel Ali’s touch but wanted to protect him as she once did.  If she tried, what would be the result of such a collision of worlds? 

Still, Amal wanted to be happy.  She could choose to keep her life the way it was.  She wasn’t overly happy but Amal loved her children.  They were the joy of her life.  She had grown comfortable in her circumstances and could be content if not happy.  However, if she chose to have contact with Ali, she could lose her only joy in life.   Amal, knew her path after seeing it all in plain terms. 

Again, she was resigned to do what was right.  Knowing it was right didn’t make acceptance any easier.  Part angry, part brokenhearted, Amal cried.  Again, she had no joy.  Again, she pushed down hopes and dreams.  It wasn’t fair but following her hopes and dreams, and accepting the consequences, wasn’t right.  Again, she would accept her lot in life and move forward. 

The Blind Beggar: Part XXI

When isolated, there is no limit to where the mind can go.  Many dark places can be visited and known well.  He knew what it was to be ignored and feel he didn’t matter.  Boulos spent much of his life alone where the only conversation he had was with himself.  Having the recent positive attention was sweet nectar but so foreign.

Boulos pondered his present state.  He was a blind man befriended by several strangers and they all collaborated to make his life better.  He appreciated the home and job he had.  It was good to have purpose in his life.  For once, he finally had the smallest sliver of hope that his life had some meaning. 

Nevertheless, it mattered little to him.  Over and over in his mind he had one question.  Why?  Why God would allow Amal to bump into my life if she cannot be part of my life?  Is this not the cruelest of jokes a deity can play on a human?  God dangles love in front of the mortal and keeps it just out of reach.  Like an itch that cannot be scratched, Boulos felt it sheer madness.  It was utter cruelty.  Daiwik once told him the gods smiled on him.  They smiled because they were laughing.  They had laughed at him the whole of his life.

Born with a soft heart, Boulos felt things more deeply than most.  Each setback in life hurt him deeply.  How he wished for human kindness when he became an orphan.  Amal was that touch his wounded heart craved.  As the ever darkening clouds of blindness settled on him, Amal remained the light of his life.  How he cried the evening Amal told him of the day she would marry.  The very words shattered his heart but in his love for her, he could not bear to put any burden upon her.  Therefore, he calmly spoke words of sense and assurance.  It was best for her to marry another.  He lied. 

He spoke truth in that it was good for Amal to have a man who would and could provide a life for her.  Boulos knew we could never do that.  His lie was in appearing to be ok with the thought.  Nothing could be farther from the truth.  How Boulos wanted to shower Amal with love.  How he wished he could hold her, touch her, kiss her.  With every fiber of his being he wished the universe had given him a different life. 

The questions he had then returned anew.  Why was he given this life?  Why must he be the one to suffer such anguish?  Sitting on the bed facing the window, he felt the breeze upon his skin.  He noted the cool streaks that ran from his eyes to his lips.  He tasted his tears.  He believed the salty taste to be a reminder he would forever be preserved in a life of brokenness.  Even when things got better, they remained the same.   

The Blind Beggar: Part XX

Later that night, Charles and Rima discussed the matter of Boulos’s request to get Amal’s contact information.  In the beginning, Charles expressed his desire to find a way to grant the wish of a man who had lived a difficult life.  In his heart, he believed there must be a way.  The couple had a long discussion about the issue.  Though he didn’t want to admit it, Charles knew the right thing to do.  He simply wanted to do something nice for Boulos.  Reality set in when Rima said, “We cannot be a part of this.  You must tell Boulos we will not help him.”

“That sounds rather harsh, don’t you think?”

“You must close the door to this.  If he thinks there is hope he may continue trying to reach Amal.  That must not happen.”

Charles was feeling anger rise in him as a defense mechanism but upon hearing his wife mention Boulos may continue trying to reach Amal, he understood her position.  The heat of his anger subsided and he was resigned to accept her wisdom.  He briefly considered the situation and said, “Then I’ll have to think of how to break the news to him.”

“Yes.”

“Good thing I brought you along.”

“Yes, you’d be lost.  Also, if you left me back in the states, my father would hunt you down.”  They both smiled. 

The next day after Boulos arrived at the apartment, Charles knocked on the door connecting his apartment to the office.  Boulos began to invite Charles into the apartment when Charles said, “Actually, would you sit with me here on our couch?  I have coffee for us to share.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Boulos believed Charles reached a decision and based on the formality of the invitation, was certain of the outcome.  After they each had the first sip of coffee, Charles began, “My wife and I had a long discussion about your request.”  He paused, not wanting to hurt his new friend’s feelings.

“Yes.”

“I hope you will understand that we cannot help you get information for you to contact Amal.  I’m very sorry.  I really wanted to help you but we can’t.”

The reality of the news hit Boulos harder than expected.  He felt his heart drop.  Maybe it broke, he was not sure.  Charles looked at his friend.  He could see the disappointment in his face.  He wanted to offer hope.  As a Christian, he believed all things were possible with God.  He considered saying, ‘I’ll pray for you’ but the words seemed so hollow. 

Finally, he said, “Boulos, I am so sorry.  I know this isn’t the news you wanted.  I feel like crap having to say it.  I wish I could say something that would make you feel better but I can’t give you false hope.  I believe in a Savior who is the hope for this fallen world.  So I hope you place your trust in God.  Meanwhile, I will be your friend if you will accept me as your friend.”

“It was not right for me to ask such a thing.  I am sorry for doing so.  It would not be right for Amal to speak with me.  I don’t believe she would if she had the chance.  A single man should not communicate with a married woman.”  The young man sighed.  His hope was gone.  Now what would he do?

The Blind Beggar: Part XIX

Charles Rayner was taken aback by the request.  When he earlier offered to contact someone for Boulos, he never imagined the request would be for a childhood love who is now married.  Charles had grown fond of Boulos in the two weeks he had lived in the old apartment.  While he wanted to help, there were other matters to consider.

First and foremost, there was the issue of how to get the information.   Charles knew it would not look good for him to knock on the front door and ask for someone’s personal information.  His wife Rima, whose family was Lebanese, might know a way to make it happen but he still saw that as a tall order. 

Then there was the concern of allowing a man to contact the wife of another man when there once was a romantic relationship.  As a Christian, this did not seem a good idea.  The final thought concerned him most.  That issue was the mere fact if Boulos contacted Amal and her husband found out, he might learn how Boulos got this information.  Even if their intentions were genuine, it would not be good for Christian missionaries to be meddling in the affairs of love.  He and Rima believed in God’s call for them to work in Lebanon.  They could not knowingly damage the work they hoped to accomplish in the name of Jesus. 

Even still, he wanted to help Boulos.  He also felt the need to be completely honest and explained his concerns.  Boulos agreed with Charles about the dangers.  Boulos took in this information and said, “Mr. Charles, thank you for your honesty.  My request puts you in a bad place.  I was not properly thinking and I am sorry.  I want you to know that, while it would make me very happy to speak with Amal whenever I want to, I never intended to break her marriage.”

Charles could feel Boulos wanted to say more.  He prompted, “Ok, but.”

“Mr. Charles, I am embarrassed to say but I miss seeing sunsets.  It is foolish.  I know it is but Amal used to describe them to me when we were young.  I have asked family members and even strangers before to describe them to me.  No one makes me see them like Amal.  She describes sunsets to me like an artist who paints them.  She cared about what she saw and how she described it.  I know this and it warmed my heart.”

Charles sighed.  “I take my vision for granted.  I never considered how a scene like a sunset would be so important but now I guess I can believe it would be.  I don’t know Boulos.  I’m sure you agree I can’t contact Amal directly and I sure can’t go to her husband.” 

“That is true, Mr. Charles.” 

“I honestly planned to keep this between you and me but I don’t think I can help you without enlisting someone else.  I’d like to ask my wife’s opinion.”

“Mrs. Rima is a good woman.  Women know how to get what they want when they really want it.”

Laughing, Charles replied, “Are you sure you haven’t been married before.” 

The Blind Beggar: Part XVIII

Boulos was surprised he didn’t detect Charles was back in the room.  Perhaps the explosion and shock wave affected his ears.  His ears were ringing.  Charles could sense Boulos was distraught and presumed it was due to the recent events.  He walked to the bed and asked, “Is there something I can do for you?  You are obviously troubled.”

Embarrassed, Boulos replied, “The explosion did scare me.  Stepping on the glass embarrasses me.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know.  I feel I should have known.  The whole thing is so unnormal.  My mind is scattered.”

“Who is Amal?  Is there someone I can call to see if she is ok?”

Would a Christian understand the story?  Still, it is a story Boulos shared with no one.  He tried to brush it aside.  “Oh, it’s nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing to me.”

“Really, it is nothing.”

“Boulos, its ok.  You can tell me.  No one else will ever know, not even my wife.”

Something in the tone of his voice told Boulos Charles sincerely cared.  He was trustworthy.  Only genuine trust and care would allow him to tell the story.  “Amal is a girl I knew when I was young.  My parents died and I lived wherever I could for many years.  Much of the time it was on the streets.  Amal and her family befriended me and we fell in love but her father had her marry another man.”

“I’m so sorry.  All of that must have been so hard.  How old were you when your parents died.”

“About 8, I guess.”

“Wow, I’m so sorry.  I can’t even imagine.  Tell me about Amal.”

Boulos considered the request.  Could he properly explain his joy if he ever regained his sight?  For some things, there are no words.  He began, “I was allowed to play with Amal and her family.  There was a separation between us, I knew that.  I mean, I knew I could never enter their home but Amal accepted me right away.  Her siblings and cousins also did soon after.  Amal cared enough to sneak food to me.  I don’t know.  I guess it was her care for me that made me fall in love with her.”

“Love triumphs over all.”

“Yes it does.  Because of her care for me, I’ve always tried to care for others.  I lived with my uncle for some years and I tried to care for him as Amal did for me.  It seemed the best way I could honor her love.”

Charles marveled at the thought and said, “You know, you’d make a good Christian.”

“What?” 

“Seriously!  Jesus said we are to love one another as He loved us.  Too many Christians don’t understand that and yet you live it without knowing the command.  I’d rather work with you than all those Christians who only think of themselves.”

Not knowing how to respond, Boulos simply said, “Thank you.”

“Have you ever seen Amal since?”

Boulos again hesitated.  It was one thing to talk of the past.  The present was another matter.  He briefly considered denying his recent contact with Amal.  Then he realized this could be the opportunity he hoped for.  “We briefly met a few weeks ago.  She lives in the same building as Mr. Daiwik.”

Disbelieving, Charles gasped, “What?”

“It is true.  Mrs. Madhura, Mr. Daiwik’s wife, allowed us a brief meeting.”

“After all these years?  That’s crazy.”

“Mr. Charles, I do not lie.  I speak the truth.”

“No, no, I believe you.  It is just incredible.”

“Yes, it is.”  Boulos considered the consequences of the question he wanted to ask.  He proceeded anyway.  “Mr. Charles, can you help me get Amal’s phone number or email so I may communicate with her with my iPad?”

The Blind Beggar: Part XVII

Boulos dreamed of working with Khalid at the store.  The two of them were discussing some new merchandise when Boulos realized he could see.  He normally saw events in his dreams but in this case, he consciously knew he himself was seeing.  It wasn’t that he was observing the events from afar.  He could see again. 

Realizing this brought him to a different state of sleep.  The dream started to fade when a tremendous booming sound jolted him fully awake.  In an instant he sat up in the bed when the shock wave from the explosion hit his apartment.  Glass in the windows shattered and he heard the shards of glass hit the floor. 

Car alarms rang in his ears and he heard voices shouting in the distance.  His heart pounding, Boulos anxiously contemplated what he should do.  The sound of a crying baby met his ears and he remembered when a similar event happened before his parents died.  He saw the fear in his mother’s eyes and heard his father shout in anger at the damn Israelis again launching some attack.  His father lost both parents during the Israeli occupation in the early 1980s and often cursed Israel when he was angry. 

He could hear someone wailing in a way only those who have lost someone in a horrible fashion can understand.  It is a language all its own but once heard, one never forgets it.  It speaks without words and goes directly to the depths of the soul.  Primal fears gripped Boulos as noises outside got louder. 

Sirens from emergency vehicles accosted his senses.  He stood up from the bed and promptly stepped on glass with his bare feet.  He immediately flopped back onto his bed and gently probed the soles of his feet for glass.  Each sliver seemed to go straight to the bone.  Dejected and fearful, he shuddered.  He didn’t know what to do.  Certain there were more seriously injured people outside in the area of the blast, Boulos decided to wait until morning and ask Daiwik what he should do. 

Shortly thereafter, Daiwik sent a message checking on Boulos.  Boulos explained the situation with his feet and shattered windows.  As this text conversation was going on, Boulos heard the lock to the door to the office open and Charles entered and called out to Boulos.  “Boulos, its Charles.  Are you ok?”

“Hello Mr. Charles.  I am ok but I stepped on some glass.”

“May I come in your room?”

“Yes, please.”  Boulos was happy to have someone with him. 

Charles entered Boulos’s room from his office.  Boulos heard him stand still for a moment after opening the door.  He believed Charles was surveying the damage.  Then Charles said, “Well, it looks like we lost all the windows.  We’ll need to replace the curtains too.  Let’s take a look at your feet.”

“Your family is ok, Mr. Charles?”

“Yes, we are all fine.  I thought I dreamed the blast.  Too bad it wasn’t a dream, huh?

“Yes, Mr. Charles.  I was dreaming when it happened and it scared me very much.”

Charles placed his hand on Boulos’s shoulder and said, “Everything will be ok.  I believe in a God in heaven who is bigger than the schemes of people who only want to kill and destroy.”

The remark caught Boulos off guard but said nothing.  Then began a text conversation Boulos had with Daiwik while Charles removed glass slivers from his feet.  Daiwik wanted Boulos to ask Charles if anything was needed.  Charles had looked over the building when he arrived and it appeared broken windows were the only issue.  He would address them when the city woke up for the day.  During this time, Boulos received more messages from other people who had helped him.  He was not used to the technology and, due to the delay of having Siri read each message, the whole process was cumbersome. 

After the splinters were removed and feet bandaged, Charles started cleaning up the glass in the apartment.  Once this was completed, Charles began working in the office.  Meanwhile, Boulos lay in the bed.  He could only think of Amal’s safety.  He was sure, due to the approximate location of the blast, her building was not damaged and she was safe.  Nevertheless, he feared she was injured.  His only thought was, “My Amal, I so hope you are ok.”  Over and over the thought repeated in his mind.  It was his sincere hope, a prayer.  Only when Charles spoke up, did he realize he was actually whispering his thoughts.

“Who is Amal?  A friend of yours?”

A New Story: More Clouds Than Sun

Marsha continued, “And another thing.  You are a mealy mouthed..”

The waitress approached with a smile and asked, “Are you ready to order?”  Then, seeing humiliation in Bob’s eyes and sensing something wasn’t right, she added, “I can come back if you need more time.”

Bob had lost his appetite and wanted to leave.  Marsha said, “Oh I know what I want darlin’.  Are you ready, Bob?”

He glared at her in disbelief and shook his head.  The waitress took that as her cue to walk away.  Bob began, “What kind of demented person are you?  You go off on me and the moment someone else will see who you really are, you become this sweet, southern belle.  I’m mealy mouthed?  At least I’m not two faced.  All you are is a façade.  You are a whitewashed tomb.  You just TRY to be pretty on the outside but you are death on the inside.”  Marsha started to protest but Bob’s voice rose, “I came here thinking we really had a chance at reconciliation but I see you are only care for yourself and your whole plan was to stab me in the back.  I may have screwed up but you are a screwed up person.”

Bob started to get up from his chair when Marsha reached out her arm and stopped him, “Bob, wait, please.  Please, wait a minute.  I’m sorry.  You leaving hurt me deeply.  Guess I’m acting on that.”  Tears began to well up in her eyes but she fought them as she continued, “I can’t bear the thought of divorce but I don’t see how to get passed this.  I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.  I honestly can’t stand to be with you but I can’t stand the alternative.”

“I can understand that.”

There was silence between them as they pondered the meaning.  The waitress returned cautiously.  “Is everything ok?  Are you ready to order?”

Her question brought them to the present and Bob suddenly felt hungry.  Perhaps a good meal would help them both.  He would get the meal he normally ordered.  Hearing Bob’s order, Marsha placed hers.  She then looked at Bob and smiled weakly. 

After the waitress left, Marsha softly asked, “Now what do we do?”

“I don’t know but I remember my grandma often saying how she and grandpa used to fight a lot.  He used to say it’s ok to fight as long as you keep talking.  The real problems start when you stop talking.  Maybe that’s why we have real problems now.  We stopped talking a long time ago.”

“I’ve been bugging you to talk to me since we’ve been married.”

“And you never noticed the times I did.”

“What?  You’re crazy!”

“Am I?  I remember many times coming home and telling you about my day.  I’d tell you all these stupid details about crap at the office, just like you always tell me.”  Marsha started to protest the remark but held her tongue.  Bob continued, “Do you have any idea how hard that is for me?  I’d say all the stuff and then you’d start in on your day and never acknowledge what I did.  Telling you about my day is not normal for me.  The only acknowledgement you’ve ever given me is when I didn’t do something or did something wrong.  I got tired of only hearing crap from you so I just stopped talking altogether.  Whatever I did was wrong anyway.” 

Bob could feel anger rise in him as he said this and it caused him to stop.  The two again sat in silence.  When the meals arrived, they ate in silence.  Finally, Marsha said, “I’m sorry.”  Surprised, Bob automatically replied, “Its ok.”

As the couple was leaving, Bob looked at the television above the hostess stand.  The weather forecast was being given.  He looked at it for a minute and smiled.  Then he stopped Marsha and pointed to the TV.  She looked at it and asked, “What?”

“Don’t you see the forecast?  More clouds than sun.  I can identify.”