The Nanny

Chapter Four

"I saw Madam Samia today, she looked okay. I was thinking maybe today I could take her for a walk at the park. Her nurse hasn't come," I told Jane. 

"I don't think that's a good idea. If Mr Ahmed finds out he will surely get mad, he gave out clear instructions..." Jane spoke, I interjected.

"That's not fair, they can't just keep her in her room. It's like they are waiting for her to die, she is still human. Fresh air won't kill her."

"I don't know Layla. You know how Mr Ahmed can get."

"I know, but Jane her nurse didn't come today. She usually takes her for walks," I spoke trying to convince her. But in reality I was trying to convince myself that taking Madam Samia for a walk at the park wouldn't be a crime.

"I warned you Layla..."

"I know Jane, but it's just a walk at the park."
I headed upstairs to Madam Samia's bedroom. I slowly opened the door, and she was sitting by her dressing table looking at an album.

"Hello," I greeted. She turned to look who it was and she faintly smiled.

"Oh it's you, Layla. Yes?" Madam Samia said. I nodded approvingly and smiled. "Come see my children." I went over to her and stood besides her. She then pointed out two little boys, who were playing in a playground. "This is Fahim, and this is Talal. I remember this day, they cried a lot because their father didn't bring them presents — for doing well in school, my husband was so forgetful. So I took them to the park and we played together. Hah they even forget why they were sad. It was long ago, I hadn't given birth to Hussein, Sarah, Abdullah or even to Ahmed."

Abdullah is Imad's father, he died in a car crash along with his wife, Yusra. They were a lovely couple, Jane described them. "I have not seen Abdullah in a long time. He no longer visits me," she spoke and looked at me. A tear managed to escape my eye, I quickly turned around and wiped my tear with my hand.

"Madam Samia..."

"la la 'atasil bi 'Umi," she said.
[No no call me mother]

"No it's okay, Madam is okay for me," I told her.

"Am I not a mother anymore? My children no longer call me by name, I yearn to be called a mother. Just once... They no longer visit me to tell me stories of their travels. I don't know how many grandchildren I have now?" She spoke in a low voice.

"Umi... you have 12 grandchildren," I said and smiled. Madam Samia smiled, she stood up and hugged me. I told her we should go for a walk to the park, she agreed. Today she recalled a memory, could the medicines be working? I helped her wear her hijab, cardigan and shoes. We headed downstairs. The driver took us to the park. After a walking in the park, we sat on a bench, in silence.

"kayf halik abnataya?" She asked me, breaking the silence.
[How are you my daughter?]

"'ana bikhayr. Madhe eunk?"
[ I am okay. What about you?]

"Alhamdulliah," she replied." Are you an Arab?"

"Well my father is from Turkey and my mother is from Saudi Arabia. When I was little my mother used to talk me in Arabic," I told her.

"Why do you work for my son?" She asked curious.

"I was not born in to a rich family, my parents came to America as immigrants. They had nothing with them except their faith and hope. My father and mother worked many jobs so they could make it here. My father died from Cancer, while I was in the University and my mother is now old. So I had to work... but I love my job," I explained.

"I am sorry about your father, he has gone back to God. Don't worry he is okay," she said to me.

"Yes..." I replied and remained quiet. After a while we returned back to the mansion. She told me to take her back to her room and so I did. To be honest, it was nice spending time with Madam Samia.

As I closed the door to Madam Samia's room, Mr Ahmed was coming up the stairs. I greeted him and quickly went down the stairs. I didn't even look at him. When I returned to the Kitchen, Jane looked at me and sighed.

"How is Madam Samia?"She asked.

"She is well. Today she recalled something from her past, which is good. Though she doesn't remember that her son Abdullah died in a car crash," I told her. The door swung wide open and my head deflected, and so did Janes. There stood a man, a man whose rage was seen through his furious hazel orbs, clenched fists and pressed lips. I had a feeling... I knew what caused his rage.

"Layla," he said my name in a gruff tone. It took time for me, to actually comprehend the fact that he called my name, my name! "Layla," he called out again. This time bitterly.

"Y-es," I stammered.

"Come to my office," he said and walked away. Oh my... I gave a quick glance to Jane and mouthed — help me. I went to his office which is downstairs, through the hallway. I stood outside his office, took a deep breath in and I knocked. I heard a come in and slowly I opened the door. A chilly air brushed against my face. "Close the door," he instructed. I did as he said. I didn't dare to take steps closer to his desk, I kept my distance. Mr Ahmed stood from his chair and walked over to the coffee table, the coffee table besides me. We were standing opposite each other now.

"You talked to my mother?" He asked in a low tone. I nodded.

"Yes," I replied. Gathering all the confidence, I have in me.

"You took her to the park?" He asked — than gritting his teeth as if to stop his words.

"Yes." My heart beat arose. It felt like I was defenseless in this situation. I am, no doubt, but the feeling just withers me.

"Were my instructions not clear? You are to look after Imad, not my mother. Don't intervene in what does not concern you," he spoke in a harsh tone. "This should never happen again." He walked away.

"She's human," I said, I wish I didn't. I knew it was a big mistake, but I can't take it back now. I nervously bit my lower lip and quickly wiped my tears. He turned around and arched his eyebrow, clearly he didn't expect this.

"What?" He asked, as if a dare to say it again.

"Her nurse didn't show up today, and your mother needed to go for a walk. Your mother is human, she still feels and every moment of her life in that room is like torture. You don't see it, but I do. She doesn't remember who she was, she only dwells upon her children. Children who no longer remember her," I spoke my heart out, daring to look into his raged eyes. He walked towards me and stood in front of me, only a mere inch away.

"Is that all?" He asked. I nodded my head and said yes. "My mother has Alzheimer's, she is sick. You introducing yourself in her life isn't advisable. She makes up things in her head. Let me remind you, that you are not here to stay. I can not afford another one of my mother's scenes when she finally remembers those who left her and the next day she doesn't. And I will not tolerate this tone from you."

"She wanted to see you..." I spoke in a low tone.

"I went to check on her and she started complimenting my wife. Miss Layla if I may ask you. Do you know who my wife is?"

"No."

"I am not married! What nonsense is this? Today she told me I have a nice wife. A stupid maid is not my wife. You Layla are not my wife. Would you care to explain that to my mother whenever she compliments "my wife"? Or should I? I have no time to waste," he yelled at me. "You are never to speak to my mother again, nor introduce yourself to her. You are dead to her," He said in a low tone.

I left his office with my heart in my hands, tears streaming down my cheeks. All the insults I have ever received, replayed in my mind. I am not strong, well not always. I have to act strong for Imad. I am tired of feeling like every decision I make is a mistake or wrong. Ya Allah only you know why this is happening to me, and with that in mind. I will remain to have patience.