The Jewish Neighbor by A.M. Khalifa Read Free Book Online Page B

lips weren’t. His soft curls were brown for the most part but she
could also make out hints of grey. Near invisible glasses on his face and the
rain splashing against them didn’t obstruct his olive eyes fixed on her. His was a smiling, knowing spirit.
    She
made her way around the swings separating them and rushed into his arms. Umayma
ran her hands through Felix’s hair before her hungry lips were drawn to his. He
squeezed her body tightly with strong arms and for a brief while she prayed
they would merge into one entity. If Felix was a ghost, then she too wanted to
die. Her tears competed with the endless rain tumbling from the heavens.
    At no
point did it seem necessary to stop and question how she was kissing a dead
man. Because whatever the explanation, supernatural or hallucinogenic, it
couldn’t possibly be any more important than what Umayma was feeling right now.
Love flooding her heart. The taste of Felix’s lips, the smell of his hair, the
warmth of his stubbled face, the firmness of his body
against her soft curves. And knowing she was finally home. All these things
were exactly as she had dreamed them to be. Right here under the rain, secure
and protected by Felix, alive or dead, was the only thing that mattered.
    In
time, when his tongue inside her mouth tasted like it truly belonged to her,
she finally understood.
    “You’re
not a doctor,” she whispered in his ears, as she held his face, while
interspersing kisses on his delicious lips. As if letting go or stopping for
air could risk her losing him again.
    His
eyes beamed. “But I am able to give pain killer shots,” he echoed, in between
returning her kisses.
    “You looked after your father,
didn’t you? It was your dad, the other Mr. Susmann ,
who died.”
    She
hugged him tighter to console his loss and tasted his salty tears.
    “You ignored every letter I sent you,” Umayma
said, as a pang of uncertainty stabbed her fluttering heart. Images of her in
the supermarket waiting for him flashed shamefully in her mind.
    “I only got them today.”
    She pulled away not entirely
understanding his proposition.
    “What do you mean?”
    “After my father died, I left
England. I took a one-year teaching position overseas.”
    “And the woman I saw inside your
house?”
    Felix
smiled as he held her hands tight. “My sister.”
    “And do you not think of me as a
crazy woman? To have felt these things for you after just a
brief encounter?”
    “I did. I thought you were
completely insane.”
    Once again that stabbing pain
tearing through her heart.
    “But—”
    “But what?” she begged, hoping for
the right answer.
    “I am just as crazed as you are. I’ve
loved you for even longer. Ever since you arrived. Every day when you took your step-daughter to school I would see you through my
window. A rush of uncontrollable desires would pump through my body. I wanted
to come out and speak to you. And ask, ‘Why are these beautiful eyes so broken,
so damaged? Can I help fix you? Can I do something for you?’ Demand to know, ‘What
melancholy flows through your caged heart?’ Urge you to tell me, ‘What dark
secrets are you harboring about what exactly goes on in that house?”
    Umayma’s knees were wobbling and her lungs starved for air.
    Felix continued. “That day I saw
you heading into the park. I got up, got dressed and decided to finally man-up
and come and talk to you. I was ready to get slapped and told off. But I wasn’t
ready to see you being raped.”
    “You risked your life to save me,
only to have me stab you in the heart with my ignorance. Why would you even still
want me?”
    Felix didn’t speak any more, but
allowed his hands, his lips, and his whole body to tell Umayma what she yearned
to know. That what was, didn’t mean anything. But what is, and what will be, is
all that really mattered.
     

 
    §
 
    That
very night near a gentle fire place and burning amber incense, Umayma lay naked
on her side on Kamal’s bed