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143 16 When Dina arrived home from school, Sharif was there, but he was about to leave. “Are you leaving?” Dina asked, inspecting his clean, ironed shirt, his stylish suit, his shiny shoes. “I have an appointment, dear,” he said and kissed her forehead. She took a whiff of his cologne. She now understood why a few months ago he’d started putting it on before he went out in the evenings. “You have an appointment every day, Dad! Can’t you stay with me just this once?” “You’re going to be studying, dear,” he said. “What would I do?” “A long time ago you used to sit with me and read while I studied,” she said, “or you’d tutor me.” Her father laughed as if to lighten the mood. “A long time ago, when you were little, I used to know enough to help you. You don’t need my help anymore.” Should she tell him that she needed him to stay and that she needed his love? What was the point when he loved someone else? She kept quiet and didn’t lift up eyes to look at him. He withdrew, then gently shut the door behind him. Dina went into her room, grabbed her physics book, and sat at her desk. She opened the book and started reading: “We shouldn’t confuse the meanings of the terms “units, measurements, and volume. Measurement is used to determine the state of a certain object. For example, length is one dimension that can be measured. Similarly, the temperature of a certain object may be considered a measurement of its kinetic energy.” Should she go back 144 N a z i k S a b a Y a r e d to her mother? How could she live with her mother every day? She reread the paragraph. No, her father loved her more. Well, he used to love her more. “When we say that the length of a rod is x meters or the temperature of a gas is x degrees, we are specifying the units that we have chosen to designate the length or volume.” What does this mean? She closed her book and sat still, staring at the cover. If I go back to Mom, she’ll deprive me of the things I like. I won’t be able to go the movies whenever I want, go window-shopping with my girlfriends, listen to pop and rock CDs. If only Mom were like Dad! She forces me to read and go to plays and boring concerts. She won’t let me do the things I like. I’ll die from boredom. My friends will ditch me. No, I’ll stay with Dad. But Dad doesn’t love me anymore. He sees that woman more than he sees me. He loves her more. Mom loves only me. She loves me, but she doesn’t let me do what I want. What if Dad gets married? Would his wife let me do what I want? What kind of a woman is she? Zeina hates her stepmother because she doesn’t let her do what she wants and interferes in all her stuff. Is Dad’s new woman like Zeina’s stepmother? Will she interfere in my stuff? Or will she be too busy with her new husband—her husband who’s my Dad? Dad will be too busy with her, too, and they both will leave me alone. What if she doesn’t leave me alone, though? Zeina’s mother died. I can live with my mother, but Zeina can’t . . . or can I? “This is a great book, Dina. You should read it!” and “Someone told me there’s a play in Beirut Theater. Let’s go see it,” and “I want you to get used to classical music, Dina. There’s a concert at the assembly hall in the American University after tomorrow. I’ll take you with me.” No way! I won’t be able to live with her. Should I stay with Dad and the woman I don’t know and don’t even know anything about? How long was she to be caught up in this vicious circle of fears? Her grandmother’s voice pulled her out. “Dina, telephone!” “Who is it?” “He didn’t say.” Her heart beat faster. Could it be him? She hadn’t seen him since that day when his mother politely kicked her out of their home. She went...
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