CONTINUED FROM PART 4
“Fadi’s not here…did anybody see him during recess?”
The whole class looked at his seat. No one had noticed he was absent until Miss Sara asked them. A collective “no” was sounded.
Joseph whispers to me. “Probably fixing his make up in the bathroom”.
“Probably”, I reply casually.
Miss Sara continues to explain the lesson, but after 15 minutes of no Fadi, she gets out for a second to inform the courtyard monitor of the situation. He enters our class and asks all of us if we had seen him, and again…everyone says no. Now I knew the kid was invisible but damn!! Poor thing.
Two more classes later, there was still no sign of Fadi and everyone is anxious to leave! No one cares if they find Fadi or not. The only reason they are irritated by his absence is because there’s no one else to bully and joke about! The bell rings! Finally…this day is over and done with.
As I get out of school, I overhear two teachers talking to each other:
“I heard one of the students last saw Fadi as he was going up the stairs…”
“Maybe he ran out of school…but his backpack’s still in his class…”
If they only knew he was rotting under the sun as they spoke. Wahad loute bel na2is…
I head home to empty the backpack and get rid of everything. Then I take a nice hot shower and sleep.
Next thing I know it’s 8 pm and a sound of an angry man wakes me up.
Who else would it be? M3allem Sameer just came back from work and he wants to shower.
“Why is there no hot water?”, I hear him screaming in the kitchen.
“Sameer, Jad just showered”, my mom replies.
He barges into my room. He doesn’t care that I was sleeping. “Why did you finish the water? Why do you shower like girls, Jad?”.
“Sorry dad, I didn’t realize…”.
“Sorry?? Now I have to wait another 4 hours to shower. Kess ekht hal 3eeshe bi ayre”, he shouts, slamming the door on his way out.
I stay in bed for like half an hour waiting for him to cool down then go sit at the dinner table. I’m starving.
Mom comes and kisses me on the cheek. “Baddak tabboule habibe?”, she asks.
“Eh mama”, I reply. Mom’s the only person I care about in this world, period. To hell with everyone else.
She sits down and it’s the three of us. Mom, dad, and myself.
“Jessy passed by my work today with Mario. Dakhilo hal zaghtoor byettekal”, mom said.
She’s talking about Jessy , my older, and only, sister.
“Here’s to seeing you get married and have children of your own habibi. 3a2bel manshufak 3arees ya mama”, she continues.
“Nshalla ya mama”, I smile at her.
Then dad speaks.“Let’s hope. After all, it’s men who keep the family name alive, don’t they Jad?”
“Akid, baba”, I say, staring at my plate.
Then out of nowhere, dad almost falls out of his seat yelling: “Turn it up! Turn it up!”
Of course he’s talking about the TV. I grab the remote and unmute it. It’s time for that Lebanese comedy show dad likes. Time for Majdi w Wajdi, two feminine Lebanese faggots who act and talk like women! Dad laughs at them so hard whenever they’re on.
Tonight’s sketch shows them singing a Nancy Ajram song in a karaoke. They’re being girly, “oooing” and “aaaaing” over some guy. Then when they leave the karaoke place, they take the “biiiig” microphone with them! All they care about is sex. Fuck, they make me sick.
The sketch finishes and my dad has this disgusted look on his face: “Tfeh…Shi bi2arrif walla”.
Then he looks at my mom and says: “You think there aren’t people like this? They’re all over the place!”
My mom responds. “Ya haram. I pity their parents. How can they live under the same roof with a son like that?”
“All I know is… if my son was like that, I would kill him with my own hands”, says dad.
He really knows all the nice things to say at the dinner table.
The house phone rings and I think to myself: ‘There IS a God’.
“I’ll get it!”, I storm out of that table and answer the phone.
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Read Part 6 HERE
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