The Night Counter by Alia Yunis Read Free Book Online Page A

scholarship to study Arabic.
Subhan Allah
, God is mysterious, she went to a university to learn the only thing her parents could have taught her at home. Here she was happy to learn Arabic from strangers when Ibrahim is an excellent reader and writer of Arabic, and as you can hear, I speak very eloquently.”
    Scheherazade could not tell Fatima that her Arabic was fossilized, as her own use of the language was even more dated.
    “Nadia and her husband, Elias, are both professors,
mashallah
,” Fatima continued. “They used to teach Arab things to mostly Arab kids who also could have just listened to their parents. But since September 11, there are many people who want to learn Middle East things, and her classes are very full. Now, help me back to the room for my glasses.”
    She stood up, and they walked down the hallway arm in arm.
    “Elias is a Christian name,” Scheherazade said, prying.
    Fatima picked up a strand of hair and began twirling it. “So you wish to reprimand me on how I let my daughter marry a Christian, just like the women in the Arab Ladies Society did in Detroit. Both the Christian and Muslim ladies accused me of being a lenient mother.”
    “Did those ladies dance at the wedding?” Scheherazade asked her.
    “Oh, how everyone danced,” Fatima recalled, and let go of the strand of hair.
    Scheherazade shrugged. “If people could still dance at the wedding, how bad could it be?”
    “It was the last wedding where people danced for my children,” Fatima said.
    Scheherazade was sure Fatima no longer was talking about religion or even Nadia, but before she could pursue this, the old lady put on her nearby glasses and picked up a picture from the vanity of a young man and woman smiling at the camera, arms around each other.
    “This is Zade and his Giselle,” Fatima said. “
Aladdin and Jasmine, Inc. We guarantee it won’t take 1001 nights of bad dates to find love—or your money back” was
written across the bottom of the photo. She put the photo back on the vanity. “The writing is their engagement vows, I believe. Probably some new fashion for romance. … Oh, how I would like to make sure my children are all okay before I go,” Fatima said. “
Ya Allah
, I wonder if Mama had so much to do before dying. Of course, she had given me the key to the house in Deir Zeitoon long before she died. It is in one of the boxes in the attic. I must find it for Amir.”
    She motioned for her cane and fell silent when they reentered the guest room. She used her faraway glasses to get to a certain section and then put on her nearby glasses to inspect the boxes more closely, twirling her hair all the while.
    “Why do you not give the house to this Arabic-speaking daughter?” Scheherazade wondered.
    “No, someone might kill her there,” Fatima said.
    “Kill her?” Scheherazade perched herself on the windowsill, ready for more, but Fatima was lost in her boxes. The rustle of the eucalyptus tree turned her attention outside. Two people in black clothing were descending from the large petrol caravan.
    “How about instead of calling the FBI tip line, we contact the bureau in Washington directly,” the man in black whispered. “When we’ve got enough, that is.”
    “And who is waiting for our call in Washington?” the woman in black whispered back. “Washington, my ass.”
    Hmm, Washington, indeed, Scheherazade thought.
Bejouz
. Maybe. She had never seen the capital of this nation that was born more than seven hundred years after her own birth. Fatima had told her a story finally that was not about Deir Zeitoon, but it was not complete.
    She would go see for herself this astounding matchmaker and Arabic-speaking daughter whom people wanted to kill. After all this time with Fatima, she was curious to see what kind of people the old lady would leave behind in this world. And she would find out if this child was infact in danger, for as much as she provoked the old woman, it bothered her to see her so