One Small Miracle In Gaza

Past

I'm running hard towards home with a strange sick feeling in my stomach.

He deserves it, I tell myself. But somewhere deeper, beyond my hunger, I have that awful sinking feeling I am missing something that I absolutely must not miss.

Go back and get him, I tell myself.

But that stalwart angry little person inside me says no. I am almost home anyway. Just in the front door and up the two flights of stairs and then..after I eat, after I give him some time to think, I'll go get him.

Still, the sense of urgency is eating at my chest, and I take the two flights as fast as I can. When I get to the door of the apartment I can already hear Mother's normal endless monologue from the kitchen. Khalti Rania must be here. They are talking about Father, and I remember the man with the gun pressed against my shoulder. I want to get out of here as fast as I can, so I crack open the door and slip by them as fast as I can, into the big bedroom we all share.

I shimmy past the playpen that Karim sleeps in, which is almost nudged up to the side of our giant wardrobe, and then I slowly, because Karim is in fact sleeping inside the crib at the moment, pull the right door of the wardrobe open and reach into my mother's dress pocket.

"What are you doing?"

I freeze. She's just outside the door and can't see me yet. I pull my hand out, empty, and jump to Karim's crib, reaching down to pat his wispy black hair just as Mother's head pops through the door.

"I'm just checking on him," I say. And then I lean down and plant a kiss on his forehead.

Mother frowns. The door of the wardrobe is slightly ajar. But her vision is not good, and she is haggard and tired and has too high of blood pressure to really be alert to everything around her.

"Don't wake him," she says. And then without asking how my first day at the new school was, she frowns and asks. "Where is Yasser?"

I shrug, not even missing a beat. "How should I know?"

Her brow furrows but she puts up her hands in frustrated surrender. "That boy," she mutters. "Allah knows he'll be the death of me. Go and find him. Now!"

And I nod, swallow, and bend down to stroke Karim's face one more time.

"I said now!" hisses Mother. Her voice is strained, and I can see now the blotches around her eyes. She has been crying.

So, instead of waiting for her to leave so I can take the money, I somersault over the big bed she, me and Yasser all sleep on, landing on my feet just at the end of it.

"And don't break the bed!" she adds. "Go, Nada, and get out of my hair!"

I run out of the room, past her as she swats at my ears. With barely a nod to Khalti Rania, I race out the front door, safe.

A minute later, long after I've stopped panting and Mother's nasally complaints have started up again, I sneak back inside, ducking down as I pass the kitchen. I'm in the bedroom again. This time I manage to get the coins, but instead of feeling triumphant, my stomach is suddenly queasy, as if I am making all the wrong moves, as if there is something absolutely urgent that I am missing. As if something is slipping through my fingers.

But I swallow the feeling down: my stomach is absolutely rumbling. And I am not changing my course now. So I creep back past Mother and Khalti Rania, and out the door, all without a sound.

In two minutes, I have a steaming fresh loaf of bread in my hands. In three, I am squatting in my favorite alley with a blind cat and the ailing Yucca plant in a plastic pot with a big crack down its side. I lift the bread to my lips and sink my teeth into its steaming center.