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2. Faces: A story from Syria: How can you try to make someone else happy when your own world is coming apart?
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2 Faces A STORY FROM SYRIA [3.88.16.192] Project MUSE (2024-03-29 01:47 GMT) Shifting uneasily on the velvet-cushioned divan, Suhayl surveyed the grand reception room. This was his first visit to the Turkish bath, a treat from his father. Upon his arrival he had been awed by the ancient building with its floors of colored tiles, the marble fountain, and peacocks painted on the walls—almost like a palace , he thought, where wonderful things might happen. As for the bath part, in some mysterious inner chambers he’d taken a good hot shower and then gotten dressed quickly, while his father went through the whole process: thumping massage, thorough scrubbing , and a final dip in cool water. Now the time had come to talk. Suhayl shot a furtive glance at his father. Even now, he tried to hold on to a few wisps of hope. Maybe . . . maybe Papa would say he was coming home. In spite of the anger that had simmered inside Suhayl for months, he still longed for those days when they’d been a family, when his father and mother had both been there for him. But Papa was in no hurry to talk, it seemed. With shiny, reddened skin and slicked-back hair, he lounged in a white terrycloth bathrobe and smoked a water pipe. Late afternoon sunlight, falling through colored glass in the dome high above them, made patterns SANTA CLAUS IN BAGHDAD AND OTHER STORIES 34 on the white robe and on his face, like a mask. Suhayl thought his father a good-looking man, still slim and straight even though he had two grown-up sons in addition to Suhayl. But Suhayl did not want to look at his father long. He had little confidence in what might lie behind that handsome face. “Well, son, how do you find it here?” “It’s nice,” said Suhayl quietly. “It’s beautiful.” Come on, tell me! Why did you really bring me here? “When you’re older, you can come to the bath any time you want. It’s good for you. Healthy. Relaxing. And cheap.” I said I liked it. Now, what about you? Are you coming back to us, or what? Papa cleared his throat once, twice. “So, how’s your mother?” “All right.” Sure, we’re doing fine by ourselves, just fine. Terrific. But— “Good.” Puffing, Suhayl’s father let a few minutes pass. Hitching around to a new position, he continued. “Huda and I are getting married next month. When we’re settled, you’ll come and live with us.” Suhayl sat motionless, as rigid as the stone arches overhead, his mind numb. Then his thoughts started churning. I knew this was coming, sooner or later. I should’ve gone to live with you months ago . . . after my twelfth birthday. Sure, I know I’m only on loan to Mama, because you were being so generous, letting her hang on to me a little longer. . . . And besides, you like your freedom, don’t you? You’ve been in no hurry to have a kid on your hands. Well, thanks a million. But of course I knew it couldn’t go on much longer. “You’ll like Huda,” Suhayl’s father was saying. “She’s a lovely woman. Beautiful. Look, here’s her picture.” He pulled an envelope from the pocket of his bathrobe and took out a photo. FACES 35 Suhayl glanced at it, then looked down again at his nervously clenched hands. “Keep it, I brought it for you,” said his father, putting the photo on the divan beside Suhayl. “Don’t you think she’s pretty?” “Yes,” mumbled Suhayl. After a moment, still with downcast eyes, he said, “My mother is beautiful, too.” Setting down the mouthpiece of the water pipe, his father straightened up and then awkwardly laid a hand on Suhayl’s shoulder . “Yes, of course. But . . . well, my son, you’ll understand later. It’s better this way.” Taking a long stretch, he stood and went back to the dressing rooms. When he was out of sight, Suhayl tore the photo to bits and pushed them under the divan cushion. Soon they were ready to leave. Suhayl climbed the well-worn steps to the entrance at street level, into the chill of a November afternoon. He felt as though he were being dragged from a refuge of beauty and comfort. But on second thought, the palace had not proved to...