The Red Line (7 page)

"Yes. He had a huge meltdown today. He flew out of control and tried to kill me."

"But he looked great at breakfast with Nora this morning. Kill you? That’s impossible! I’ll never believe that. How could he go to such extremes? It never happened before."

"Well dear, it happened for real this morning. And if it wasn't for my secretary, who started to scream, I would be dead right now."

"Oh my God. Oh my God! Where is he now? Is he back at the hospital? I thought that he’d completely recovered and we were done with these crises. Oh! He was doing so well."

"I'm sorry, Mona. My guys tried to catch him, but he ran toward the front lines. They couldn't cross that crazy jungle out there without getting into a fight with the militia. They heard some shots fired, and they exchanged mortars, but there’s no news of Tamer. I know one of the leaders over there. We can’t reach him by phone, as you know, so I sent one of my guys to give him a message. We'll
hear from him sooner or later. Please Mona, get a hold of yourself. I'm too exhausted myself to handle a breakdown of yours!"

Mona didn't answer. She shut her eyes, covered her ears with her hands, and bent in two, her head touching her knees. She felt her heart breaking into small pieces, and a huge ball of tears was stuck in her throat, constricting her breathing. She knew Kamil too well, so well that she was certain he would not spare her son's life even if she begged him for it. She should have sent Tamer and Nora away a long time ago; she should have bought them tickets, put them on a plane, and let them go away forever. Their prese
nce had made her so happy that
—
like an idiot
—she’d pushed the sad reality away and had lived like the young couple, in a dream.

Mona felt herself being pulled back into a sitting position. Kamil was looking at her angrily. "What's your problem, Mona? Didn't you hear that I almost got killed? You have yet to see the marks he left on my neck, or don't you even care anymore? Is everything about Tamer now? Wake up to reality. He's always been mentally ill. In the past, after his father got killed, he used to attack you. Have you forgotten everything already? Tamer, Nora. Tamer, Nora. You were starting to become delusional. I left
Elham
for you. After Toufic's death, I could have given you some money and let you go. But no, I gave you everything I thought you deserved in this life. Is this your way of thanking me, after all these years?"

"Oh Kamil! I was just in shock, that's all," said Mona, coming back to reality. How could she let her feelings overcome her in front of Kamil? She was really losing her mind. She took a deep breath and caressed his face and neck. "Oh Kamil, I'm so sorry about all this. He's still my son, but you’re my love, and this whole situation rips my heart in two. I know he's crazy. I'm so sorry again for what he did to you. But you are my life. I don't exist without you." Mona closed her eyes; she felt like she might throw up at any moment. Just looking Kamil in the eye gave her the feeling that her son was already dead. Every cell in her body
was screaming in frustration and pain.

Nora entered the living room at this moment. She looked pale and depressed. "Is Tamer here? He didn't come to our usual meeting place outside the hospital. I have some bad news to tell him."

"We have bad news for you, Nora," cried Mona, still in
Kamil's
embrace. “Tamer had one of his crises today. He tried to kill his uncle, and then he disappeared. I can't, I can't think about it…" With tears covering her face, she ran to her bedroom, leaving Nora and Kamil facing each other.

"Crisis? What crisis?" Nora couldn't stand up anymore; she found herself a seat across from Kamil.

"One of his usual ones, Doctor. Or did you forget that he was your patient?" Kamil asked sarcastically.

"I clearly remember that he was there for addiction and nothing else. What kind of crisis?" Nora asked, dreading the answer. She already knew her mistake. She had never wanted to know what was wrong with Tamer then. Now she had to face it.

"Addiction to getting insanely angry, if that’s the way you want to think of it," said Kamil derisively. “He’s been sick since he was sixteen. That was when he started fighting with the militia and killed his dad by mistake. He has his on and off times. You surely understand, Doctor? Or did you have no
idea
what he was really like?"

"No idea! Azoomy refused to give any details about Tamer or release any private documents explaining what happened to him."

"Azoomy is a great friend. He helped out a lot in the past. But he can't do anything this time. Tamer tried to kill me before he ran away and disappeared at the front lines. I already sent people to catch him. So you see, your lover is in big trouble. I advise you to go home, Nora. This is too big for you to handle."

Nora didn't answer. It was like
all the
bad news was being dumped on her head
all
at once. Had she lived a dream with Tamer? Had she been that far away
from the harsh reality that was clawing at her with a vengeance this time?

Kamil must have been telling the truth about Tamer. She already knew in her heart that there was more in the files about him than she wanted to acknowledge. She just wanted to live her love fully without thinking about the consequences; she wanted to live in denial of everything and everybody around her.

"You can't kick me out, Kamil. I have to see Tamer first and talk to him. If something really happened, I want to hear it out of his mouth."

"I can't kick you out! Who do you think you are, you filthy Christian!? Just look at the way you sleep with my nephew—shameless, immoral—and you dare talk to me this way. This house, this building, each piece of furniture belongs to me!
Your
crazy Tamer is legally incompetent! He doesn’t own a cent. He lives on the allowance I send him! Did you think he was rich? Was that why you stuck around? He has nothing. You are nothing. Just pack your belongings and leave." Following his angry tirade, Kamil left the room, looking for Mona.

Nora, left to herself, sat there completely stunned by the degree of hatred surrounding her. She felt numb all over. She had worked like a robot the whole day, waiting for the moment when she could be with Tamer again and cry on his shoulder. She knew in her heart that he would have stood by her and would have even come with her to confront her mom. She was even thinking about going away with him to Cyprus to get a civil marriage, which didn’t exist in Lebanon, to quiet all the talk about them. Now here she was, facing the storm all by herself. Strangely, she didn't feel like crying or screaming or even yelling at God. She felt nothing, nothing at all. She stood
up
, left the room, and packed her clothes. Without seeing either Mona or Kamil, she left the house w
here she had spent the best days
of her life, never to return.

“What’s your name again?” The bearded man from the Christian militia asked. Oddly, he was a friend of
Mohsen
, the one who had patched Tamer up on the other side. For years the two used to shoot at each other and at innocents crossing the street. They built their friendship over years of fighting, over the dead bodies of their comrades, and over the ruins of Beirut, the dead city. This guy's name was Pierre, and a huge, golden cross hung suspended from his neck.

"Tamer
Monzem
, but I want to change my whole identity. And then I would like to leave the country."

"How much are you ready to pay?"

"I'm ready to fight. I know how to do it. I'm not afraid to die. But if I make it, I want to leave the country." They stood there with their eyes locked for a while, sizing each other up.

"Okay, you'll join our troop. There are two huge battles going on right now against the Christian army. One is two streets down from here. You'll just come with me. But first, you need to change your name. You can be Tony instead of Tamer. Huh, Tony
Moutran
. A good Christian name."

With that, Pierre left him. He came back carrying clothes similar to the ones he was wearing, some firearms, and a huge wooden cross which he put around Tamer's neck.

"This will protect you from harm. That is what we believe, and it’s what we used to fight for before we Christians fought each other. I have a brother and two cousins in the army I'm fighting against, and my mother is dying of worry and frustration. But I'll never leave my troop, even if I have to pay for it with my brother's blood. Well, let's go.”

Tamer followed him silently.
After a week, his wound was feeling much bette
r. He had left the area to the w
est of the line the day after he got shot. He’d
spent the remainder of the week in an emergency bunker just across the street from the first one, but this time he was surrounded by enemies: the Christians from the east side. Both sides were used to constantly exchanging wounded, supplies, and news in addition to the dirty jokes and the insults they would scream at each other every day.

In these clothes, Tamer knew he looked exactly like the Christians. He had let his beard grow during the past week; his hair was shaggy, and his attitude was as cynical and detached as his companions’. If he had to die for a cause that wasn't his and die on the same side as people he considered his worst enemies, so be it! He would fight one last time before leaving this country for good. The only heartache would be that he’d have to leave Nora behind.

The west side of Beirut was starting to recover; buildings were getting fixed, and streets were starting to grow crowded again with honking cars, pedestrians, and sidewalk cafés. The east side of Beirut was still a war zone, though; its buildings were destroyed, its streets empty, and its men armed. The contrast was shocking even for Tamer, who had thought himself immune to the sight of
destruction and desolation
created by bombs
.

In the early morning, after another sleepless night, people furtively got out of the bunkers where they were spending the nights with their families and ne
ighbors. The shopkeepers
only opened their doo
rs halfway, ready
close them fast at the first sound of bombs. Women holding their kids’
hands hurried across the street
to get whatever food they could find at the grocery
stores, non-perishables that w
ould last a week without refrigeration. Some teenagers had to carry empty gallon jugs and bottles a long way before they found drinking water.

During this reprieve in the early morning, the men went out to check out the damage from the night’s bombings. They would usually find that someone’s car had gotten destroyed, or they’d find that one of their apartments was hit by a bomb. Neighbors helped each other to salvage whatever they could from the rubble.
 

Then news would travel by word of mouth; it was mostly about who had won the overnight battles, who had gotten killed, and who had been wounded. Even if the listeners knew the victims, there were no unnecessary exclamations or cries. Just these questions would slip out: "Where will the funerals be? Which church? When?"

Tamer followed Pierre through these streets until they arrived at a military base, an old public school sandwiched between two buildings. He met a bunch of guys there who started calling him Tony. Then he and many others climbed into a truck heading for the heart of the battlefield, which was some blocks away. He and two of his comrades ran and hid behind one of the buildings which the army hadn’t taken yet. There, with one last thought of Nora and their lost love, he opened fire with a sour taste in his mouth.

“I’ll be staying here for a while.” Back in her room, Nora had to confront Rheem again. It was almost night by the time she left Tamer’s house, so she couldn’t cross the line and go see her mom. Her only choice was to return to the hospital. She had to find someone ready enough to take the risk and go with her tomorrow. At the moment, heading for the east side of Beirut was considered suicidal. The bombing was continuous, and the fights weren’t just all over the streets, but everywhere.

"Hey Nora, I told you I'm sorry about what happened."

"Oh please, Rheem. Let's not talk, okay?"

The atmosphere between them was tense, but Nora didn't care. She was hardly aware of her surroundings. In her mind, she kept reviewing the events that had just taken place like she was stuck in a never-ending nightmare. She felt like she was under anesthesia, completely numb. The
pain was so deep that
—
like a third degree burn
—no feeling remain
ed anymore. ‘Check on my mom.
Look for Tamer.’ These two thoughts kept coming back into her mind.

The next morning, she asked for a meeting with her chief of service. Dr.
Fahmi
was an Egyptian and a very well-known academic. He had been teaching at the American university for more than twenty years; the ugliness of the war didn't drive him away. He considered Nora one of his brightest and most studious students. He had heard rumors about her lately, rumors which had ruined her reputation. He’d heard reports that she wasn’t living at the dorm but was hanging out and sleeping with an unknown man who might even be married.
The talk about her was vicious; it had thrown her in the trash in the minds of
her peers, especially the guys'
. He felt sorry for her. This morning, she was looking pale and very upset.