In the Language of Miracles Read Online Free

know what you want to do, go do it. That’s how it always is anyway.”
    â€œI’ll do what I want, yes. And I don’t need your permission!”
    Nagla slammed her bedroom door shut.
    Samir, as if noticing his two children for the first time, looked at Khaled and then at Fatima. “And what about you two, huh? Do you have anything to say?”
    Khaled shook his head.
    â€œGood!” Samir walked to the kitchen, paced once around the breakfast table like a man on a pilgrimage, then walked out the kitchen door and onto the back deck. Khaled could see him through the bay window as he sat down on one of the armchairs, leaned forward, and ran his fingers through what remained of his hair.
    â€œAs stubborn as ever,” Khaled murmured.
    â€œHe’s only trying to help, Khaled.” Fatima looked up the stairs. “You think she’ll be okay?”
    â€œShe’ll be fine. She’s used to this.”
    â€œ
Psstt
,” Khaled heard. He and Fatima turned around to see their grandmother summoning them. She had closed the Qur’an and placed it on the table beside her, where Cynthia’s untouched tea still stood. Khaled and Fatima walked up to her, Fatima sitting by her side while Khaled crouched down in front.
    â€œWhat’s going on? What memorial are they talking about?” Ehsan whispered.
    â€œEl-sanaweyya ya Setto,”
he said, trying to pronounce the words in his best Arabic. “They will be holding a memorial service for Natalie’s one-year anniversary. The anniversary of her death, that is,” he clarified unnecessarily.
    â€œ
They’re going to the cemetery?”
    â€œNo, not the cemetery. It’s different, here. You don’t have to hold a service at the cemetery. They’re doing it at the park.”
    â€œAt the park?” Ehsan said, raising her eyebrows. Khaled nodded. “I’ll never understand the Americans,” she sighed. Upstairs, a door slammed, and they all looked up, as if expecting to see Nagla’s movements traced on the ceiling.
    â€œWhat about your brother’s
sanaweyya
?” Ehsan whispered to Khaled. “Aren’t you going to do something for him?”
    Khaled looked at Fatima, who was biting her lower lip, just the way their mother always did.
    â€œI don’t think so,
Setto.
We can hardly invite people over for him, you know,” Khaled said.
    â€œI know that, boy. I’m not an idiot,” Ehsan said, slapping Khaled on the shoulder with the back of her hand. Her slap, surprisingly hard, almost made him topple over. He reached one hand behind him and steadied himself. “I just meant you, the four of you, and me, of course. Maybe just go over to the cemetery and read some Qur’an. Or ask people at the mosque to pray for him after the Friday prayer,” she said, looking at Fatima. Upstairs, they heard another thud, perhaps another door slam, or a drawer pushed closed too violently.
    â€œWhy don’t you go upstairs to her,
Setto
?” Fatima asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” Ehsan said, glancing toward the back porch though she could not see it from where she was sitting. “What if your father wants to go up and talk to her again? I don’t want him to find me there and think I’m snooping.”
    â€œHe won’t go talk to her now,” Khaled said. “He probably thinks she should come and talk to him first. He always does that; yells at people and then expects them to apologize.”
    â€œKhaled! Don’t talk of your father in such a disrespectful way!” Ehsan said.
    â€œBut he’s always like that!”
    â€œShe’s his wife, so what if he yells at her? Your grandfather, Allah rest his soul, used to chase me around with the broomstick. At least he doesn’t do that, does he?” Fatima, glancing at Khaled, sucked at both her lips, and Khaled smiled, knowing she was struggling to stop herself from laughing at the