Under the Olive Tree

24. Arba'a Wa'Ishrun

Four days after Fayza's hospitalization, Muhsin had not yet come to see his sister after his initial arrival. Amani accompanied Um Muhsin to the hospital every day, reading Koran with her for hours and taking care of Ezzo and Amjad for the rest. The little boys had become familiar guests to her aunt's house, opening the fridge and napping on the beds as if they were their own. Auntie took better care of them than she did of Amani.

On the second day, Amani heard the nurses discussing the occupational soldier who'd been missing for two days. They spoke of the Occupation's ongoing search for him.

On the third day, she heard of another search for a missing person. First, she recognized the neighborhood as her own. Then she realized who they spoke of—Farouq was missing. He had not returned home for four days and, with no sign of him, his family was terrified the soldiers had killed and taken him away.

As she sat near the end of the hospital bed, Amani wondered why she felt like Farouq's whereabouts were only known by two. The Occupation and the unconscious girl laying in front of her. Past her closed eyes, Fayza held all the answers to everybody's questions.

"Here, my love," Um Muhsin extended cash to Amani.

She did not accept it before asking. "What is this?"

"Go buy some food and take it to Muhsin," she spoke. She took notice of the same quiet, miserable tone that she tried to lighten when speaking to others she'd been hearing from Um Muhsin. "He has hardly eaten a bite these past few days. He is in the olive garden. Maybe he will eat from your hands."

Amani took the money. "Is he still...?"

Um Muhsin offered her the smallest of smiles. It didn't reach her eyes. "He feels as though it is his fault. I believe he thinks he had the power to prevent this from happening," she turned back to the girl, rocking gently with the book in her hands. "I also wish I could have done something so she would be healthy, but this was her fate. It has always been written for her."

"My son, he carries such a heavy weight. He has carried it on his shoulders ever since his father's passing. I thought he was improving. After he met you, his steps had gotten lighter and he breathed more deeply. Now, seeing the way he has turned off like a light that has gone out with the flip of its switch, I am worried about him again."

Amani's fingers tightened around the money in her palm. "He still blames himself for Ami Fayez's death?"

"He has never stopped. That is why he never allows himself to rest. I foolishly believed those thoughts and nightmares had stopped," Um Muhsin wiped a tear from her cheek.

"But I thought Ami Fayez fell. His death was an accident."

Um Muhsin sighed. "A mother knows her children. When she sees murder in her six-year-old son's eyes, she recognizes it." She rubbed her eyes.

The world seemed to still around them for a heartbeat.

"Then... what happened?"

"That answer even I do not have, my love," Um Muhsin turned to Amani with a kind smile. "I wish I could make him something. Please take this money and buy him something to fill his stomach with. This is not healthy."

Amani nodded and returned the money to his mother. "I'll make him something," she reassured her. "And I'll make sure he eats."

She returned home and, in less than an hour, had accepted her aunt's already cooked chicken to make a few chicken wraps. Caramelized onions, sumac powder, and perfectly boiled corn sat together neatly in each carefully wrapped round bread.

Auntie helped pack them into the straw bag that Amani took with her. The sun illuminated her path through the plantations.

When she arrived, she found Muhsin sitting on the floor. A prayer mat was laid out over a straw carpet in front of him. With his hands lifted in front of his face and his eyes closed, Muhsin hardly noticed her arrival. In front of him, the olive garden stretched vast and green and, over him, a larger tree shielded him with shade.