I was falling in love.
Chapter 18
The day was switching to evening. Nasir watched his shadow as he walked towards the park, noticing how its stretched-out form was beginning to fade from sight. Over breakfast that morning Baba had asked to meet him after work. He’d said that he wanted his company while he “exercised,” but Nasir knew better. He knew it was because his father wanted to talk in private.
He was waiting when Nasir arrived. There was a big smile on his face and crinkles of pleasure lining the corners of his eyes. Nasir’s stomach churned and, for a second, he felt like he was going to throw up. He knew without asking that his father had sold the bronze figurine.
Baba took Nasir’s arm and together they walked in silence down a narrow, shaded path until they came to a clearing that offered an excellent view of the surrounding area. Only after making certain no one was within earshot did Baba decide it was safe enough to speak.
“Our dealer has come through for us,” he said, his voice bouncing with excitement. “He has sold the figurine to a wealthy American collector and has earned us a substantial profit. This morning I went to the bank and sent the money to your grandparents and aunt.”
He paused a moment to wait for his son’s reaction, but when it didn’t come he continued.
“What I’m trying to say is, thank you, Nasir. You’ve been a big help. If I can count on you one more time, we might even be able to get the family out of Askar. Maybe even bring them here. Or if the Israeli government won’t let them in, perhaps we can get them to America. Your cousin Ziyad could sponsor them.”
Yes … after he’s finished sponsoring me, Nasir thought. His stomach churned again as he stared down at the grass and tried to sort through his emotions. He felt sick inside whenever he let himself think about that night on the Judean Plain. Despite Baba’s attempts to justify it, going back to dig for more artefacts would transform him, at least in his own mind, from an accidental thief into a criminal repeat offender.
On the other hand, it felt good to be able to help his parents and relatives — especially since Nasir felt like he was betraying them daily by sneaking around with Mackenzie. He lifted his head and met his father’s eyes; there was more hope in them then he’d seen in years. Nasir sighed. He knew he was destined to become a huge disappointment to his father one day. How could he refuse him now?
“Okay. You can count on me,” he said softly.
Baba smiled again.
“Thank you, my son. The dealer says the antiquities market is very hot right now. He wanted to know how soon we could go back for more. Apparently there are some very lucrative sites up north in the Galilee. He says that many of his diggers have been quite successful in that area. Maybe next time we’ll try searching out there.”
His diggers? Exactly how many people are involved in this racket? Nasir wondered. He wanted to ask but held back, sensing that perhaps the less he knew the better.
Baba put his arm around Nasir’s shoulders and pulled him close. “Just think how much money we could earn next time,” he whispered. “One more of those little statues could save your grandparents. If we can bring them out of the camp, they could finally get the kind of medical attention they need. They’ve lived such a hard life, they deserve to end their days in comfort.”
Nasir nodded, suddenly remembering Mackenzie’s story of Tiberias, a city located in the region Baba had referred to. She’d talked about finding pottery shards and silver coins. He couldn’t even imagine how much money Baba’s dealer could get for those kinds of things.
He wasn’t proud of what happened next. In his eagerness to please his father and help his family, he did something terrible — so terrible that he would look back on that moment with regret for the rest of his life. He felt the words of betrayal form in his mouth and tried to swallow them down before they could do any damage. But despite his best efforts, they flew from his lips like guided missiles.
“I have a friend,” Nasir heard himself saying. “Her father is an archaeology professor from The Hebrew University. He recently led a dig in Tiberias, where they found pottery shards and a whole stash of silver coins. My friend says it’s known as the ‘city of treasures.’ Maybe we should try digging there.”
Baba’s eyes widened at the mention of the silver coins. He was clearly so hungry for another find that he didn’t even seem to care that Nasir’s “friend” was a girl — something that would ordinarily have prompted a frown of disapproval.
“Thank you, Nasir. Maybe you can speak to this girl again and try to find out some exact locations. If you can learn more, we might get compensated for the information. But be careful: nobody must suspect what we’re doing.”
Nasir nodded silently as the impact of what he’d just done began to sink in.
The sound of laughter interrupted his thoughts, providing a welcome distraction from his guilt. He turned his head and saw two boys entering the clearing, kicking a soccer ball. He and Baba stopped talking and watched as the boys approached, running after their ball in the purple light of dusk. They looked joyful and innocent; Nasir guessed that they were only a few years younger than him.
A sudden longing grew in his chest: a longing to leave Baba and go join them in their game. But he knew he couldn’t. His head was burdened with secrets and his feet were firmly planted in the adult world of deception and lies.
He wondered how he got to the point where his entire life had become about sneaking around.
After that day, he never played soccer again.
Chapter 19
December in Israel was bizarre. I mean, totally and utterly warped. At least it seemed that way to me.
To start with, it snowed. That’s right, snowed! Dad and I must have brought some cold Canadian karma with us across the Atlantic, because one morning early in the month I looked out my window and saw the ground covered with white. I swear, you could have knocked me over with a feather right then and there. If I had known snow in the Middle East was even a remote possibility, I would have brought my ski jacket with me.
The intersection below my window was exploding with honking horns that morning. Man, if you thought the Israeli drivers were crazy in normal weather, you should have seen them skidding around on the wet snow. It wasn’t pretty.
Marla showed up on my doorstep an hour later wearing mittens and brimming with excitement.
“Isn’t it great?” she gushed. “Doesn’t it remind you of home?”
“Um, I guess.”
But it didn’t really. Back home, the first snowfall had meant the beginning of the Christmas season. Here, it meant nothing.
Forget the bomb shelters and double-flush toilets; my single biggest culture shock from this move had to be the absence of Christmas. It had been Mom’s favourite time of year. In the years before the accident, she would spend the entire month of December getting ready for the holidays. Our home would always be decorated with greenery and tinsel and a huge tree and the outside of our house would be covered with strings of tiny, multicoloured lights. Sure, it was hokey, but I liked it. And of course, we weren’t the only ones. Malls across the city were adorned with ribbons and garland, carols were blasted 24/7 on the radio, and most of the streets were lit up with Christmas lights.
But there was none of that here in Israel. Heck, we didn’t even get a school break.
At least Dad managed to track down a place that sold Christmas trees. But it wasn’t the same. One warm Sunday, we dragged home a straggly looking spruce, propped it up in the living room, and decorated it as best as we could. Not exactly easy considering we’d left all our ornaments back in Toronto with Aunt