Elixir of Life

Chapter 3: Quando, Quando, Quando

Faryal Belmadi

Summer 1997

Byblos, Lebanon

The pale blue Mediterranean swayed the family's diving boat as it stopped in the middle of the clear sea. The Byblos fishing port was distant in the coastline and dwarfed by the rising hills of countryside behind it. Faryal Belmadi, 23, sat by the stern of the small boat reading a fantasy novel. Her eyes read through her tortoise sunglasses and her hair was fixed in a ponytail.

Faryal's dad Ralph, who was in his mid-40s, spoke as he turned from the steering wheel, "Alright Faryal, you're up."

She stood up in her black wetsuit, putting down her book, and leaning back down to put on a diving mask. Faryal sat on the edge of the boat as her two younger sisters, Zahra and Fareeda, watched beside her. Both were middle-school age. Faryal put the fins on her feet as her dad helped attach the small oxygen tank on her back. She put the mouth piece to her mouth and gave a thumbs up.

Her dad gave one, too, and he was joined with her younger sisters in thumps up all around. And with her back to the calm sea, Faryal let her hands go from the boat's rope – and her back crashed against the waters.

The sea swallowed her as she entered the last layer between the sea and the world. The sun's rays seeped through the overhead waters. Faryal swam further down as the water blended into an azure blue. A school of small fish glided beside her in a large, meandering train that swirled and swirled further within themselves.

Faryal reached out to touch a large boulder, with its surface pocketed by thousands of years of underwater erosion. Faryal turned her body and descended where small, striped fish swam in disarray. Below them was a painting of colorful life. Dark pink, glowing pink, purple, dark green, olive green of submerged plants that danced alone and glowed in the darkened depths of their own, harsh ecosystem.

***

Belmadi Residence

The front yard of the Belmadi home basked in the sunset. A grass clearing was accented by manicured bushes, roses, and a tomato garden. Behind the grass, was the family's two-story home of pale, white walls and dark brown, wood windows.

Faryal was setting the outdoor dining area, by the front of their home, that was shaded and supported by stone columns. The area was decorated with plants in large ceramic vases. Faryal set down plates as she put on her sunglasses in view of the setting sun. It was just overlooking the hills that spanned the horizon, clear fields of green grass and populated with darker green trees. Thin, meandering roads marked the view.

Her mother called from inside, "Faryal! Can you pick a dozen tomatoes?"

She finished setting the plates for a dozen. And Faryal walked over to the tomato garden that lined the road. Her closed toe espadrille heels stepped and cracked on the tan dirt road which stretched from the front of their home to the rest of the countryside. She picked up a wicker basket, pressed it to her navy-blue jumpsuit, and picked a dozen tomatoes off the shoulder-high plants beside her.

Her tan skin glowed in the light beside the garden. Cypress trees of tall, slim figures lined the sides of the road. Faryal took a moment to admire her dad's Porsche Boxster, in racecar red, parked by the road.

After Faryal had helped her mother in the kitchen, she sat on a lawn chair by the side of their home. Plants lined the wall in a thick horizontal stroke which danced in the wind. She had her head buried in her latest fantasy book. The thin hairs on her arms were white in the sunlight that allowed her to read. She brushed her dark hair which favored the left side of her face, dangling over her dinner dress.