The House of Jasmine Read Online Free Page B

filled the room with a bluish glow. The bird took the boy to its chest, wrapped its feet around him, and flew through the ceiling and open sky to the seventh heaven, where the throne of God stands.
    Today is the eighteenth of June, a bland day without any celebrations, decorations, or speeches. For a long time, the twenty-third of December overshadowed the eighteenth of June. Then came the fifth of June to send them both to hell. Now the sixth of October is supreme. For the hundredth time, I could not keep myself from looking over the four large rooms, the wide living room, the oil-painted walls, the beige tiled floors, and the bathroom with its rose tiles, big bathtub, and movable shower head. . . I am getting taller. . . !
    â€˜Abdu al-Fakahani had finally given me the apartment after taking me to the verge of despair. Less than a week after he had received the two hundred pounds he told me that he needed another hundred. I screamed, and it was a comical scene, with me angrily waving my hands in front of his face, our heads only half a meter apart, as I struggled to restrain myself from hitting him. He walked away and sat down, while I kept pacing back and forth in his store, looking at the fruits and vegetables and thinking that I would like to pile it all on top of him until he died.
    â€œI’m not rushing you. The apartment can wait.”
    I wanted to say that my mother would die if she heard this, but he looked as if he knew that. He was smiling like a monkey while I was about to explode. I could not even say a word, but something in the way I looked must have urged him to say: “You can write an IOU for the amount, and I can use it to borrow the money from another merchant.”
    I agreed. It was either that or I would kill him. No middle ground. He gave me the keys to the apartment, even before the scheduled date, and was shameless enough to congratulate me and wish me good luck. I thought of asking Magid, Hassanayn, and ‘Abd al-Salam to help me move, but ended up renting a truck, and, in the middle of the night, I piled up all the furniture into it myself.
    I heard my mother mumble “Bismillah” as she entered the apartment with her right foot, not forgetting to make sure that I did the same. I thanked God, thinking that she was going to like the apartment. I quickly put the old furniture in two rooms. The apartment looked as if it could accommodate all the furniture that I had seen displayed at stores on the streets of al-‘Attarin, Tawfik, Salah Salim, and Fuad. I had seen these stores many times before, but only recently did I look at them more closely. I spent a whole week looking at furniture I knew I could not afford. But I did it when I was feeling optimistic following a pleasant surprise.
    A few days after Labor Day, the chairman of the board of directors had called me to his office, and said, “You have honored us, Shagara.”
    He was a big man with a white face and rosy cheeks, and at that moment he had a big smile on his face. I would not have believed my eyes had it not been for al-Dakruri, who was also there, looking absolutely delighted.
    â€œYou have indeed honored us,” he went on saying, and produced a thank-you note addressed to him and to all the workers who had participated in the Labor Day celebrations in Hilwan.
    â€œIt is a letter from the President’s office. You will be famous, Shagara,” he said, looking straight at me, but I was unable to utter a word. He must have thought that I was too happy for words, and decided to give me a raise. Al-Dakruri looked as if his face were going to burst with joy, but I just stood there in shock at how things worked in this country. . .
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    I went to the beach, where there were quite a few people. I was hoping to meet Magid, Hassanayn, and ‘Abd al-Salam, but they didn’t show up, so I sat alone at Biso Bistro. Most of the faces there looked familiar, but I didn’t really know anyone. It was