“You can give humans many gifts,” the demon Hannya said, “but they never seem to be willing to give up their naïve humanity. One should never be allowed to be invulnerable. It is unhealthy.” She extended her sword and used it to move Fatima’s hand along the emir’s wife’s trembling lap. “This is useless now. You can wear it since you think it lovely. You had better be ready for tonight. I will not have you fail me.”
One day in February 1993, my mother developed a severe backache and then even worse abdominal pains. Her symptoms were difficult to diagnose in the first two days, but when jaundice made its portentous appearance, a histopathology was performed. She was offered a diagnosis: pancreatic cancer, stage IV B, and a life expectancy of two months at best. When the doctors told her, my mother didn’t cry; she did what absolutely no one had expected. She walked out on my father.
After thirty-seven years of marriage, she packed a small bag — a very small bag; “I won’t be needing much,” she told Lina — and left. It didn’t occur to her until she stood on the doorstep to wonder where she would go. She had no close family in Lebanon, and no friends, either, since they had all left during the war and had yet to return. On the spot, she made another decision that shocked everyone who knew her. She took a cab to Aunt Samia’s apartment and moved into her guest room. One could say that no one was more surprised than the hostess herself.
My mother’s parting words were “Let him get used to my not being there.”
Was it a scandal? Not as much as one would have thought. Few people outside of family knew about it, and for those who did, Aunt Samia had her lines prepared. “But Layla is at her own home, of course,” she would say. “I can take care of my sister better than anyone. It was easier to move her than for me to move in. The whole family is at my house now anyway.”
To this day, none of us can figure out why my mother did it. The assumption at first was that she meant to punish my father, and her leaving did overwhelm him, but that was much too simplistic. He rarely left her side while she was at my aunt’s. In the first few days, he pleaded with her to come back home, but soon yielded to her obstinacy. In some ways, she allowed him more access to her than she ever had, but she refused to return. He became her manservant in an unfamiliar home. Early on, while she was still mobile, but doped up on painkillers and exhausted from chemotherapy, he wouldn’t allow anyone else to help her get around. He arrived every morning at seven, waited for my aunt’s maid to bring the tray of coffee, and took it in himself and woke her. He would stay with her until she kicked him out, which she apparently did only when she thought he needed a break. Even when she became completely infirm and a nurse was brought in, he remained her primary caretaker. She triumphantly exceeded the doctors’ expectations by living for nine and a half months. And she died in the hospital with her family around her, and her husband crying and kissing her hand, swearing upon his mother’s grave that she was the only woman he had ever loved.
While the twins slept in their bed, millions of black ants crept into the room and carried the dark boy out the window and onto the balcony, whence he was flown off by fifteen young jinn. Still asleep, Layl was delivered to the monster sitting under the second willow.
Much to the emir’s wife’s horror, the monster did not hesitate. Hannya raised the arm carrying the sword and cut off Layl’s head. She proceeded to cut off his arms and legs, then dug out his heart and cut off his testicles.
The head she gave to ten hyenas. “Take this to your den. Guard and protect it, for by its power you will produce the sturdiest of offspring.”
Twenty eagles received the arms. “Take these to your nest. Guard and protect them, for by their power your wings will increase in strength and your feathers will decrease in weight.”
The legs she gave to thirty monkeys. “Take these to your trees. Guard and protect them, for by their power you will grow more nimble.”
The torso she gave to the lions. “Take this to your lair. Guard and protect it, for by its power you will be the most powerful of beasts.”
The heart she kept for herself. The testicles she gave to the emir’s wife. “Destroy these, for as long as they exist the demon king can resurrect himself.”
The emir’s wife stared aghast at the bloodied testicles in her hand. “How can I destroy them? I have no experience with such things. I am naught but simple royalty.”
“Destroy them as you wish,” hissed the monster, “but do not fail me.”
The emir’s wife swallowed the testicles in one gulp. The monster smiled.
And the scream of Shams was heard round the world.
I stood at the door of the hospital room with my carry-on strapped on my shoulder, hesitating as if I needed permission to enter. On the plane, I had visualized many different scenes, but none matched the sight of my dying mother unconscious, or the despair planted on my father’s face. Reality always flabbergasted me.
My father moved from despair to fury as soon as he caught sight of me. He couldn’t speak, simply glared, angry and teary. Now, that was a scenario I had pictured. He considered it egregious that I would be anywhere but at his side during troubled times. When I saw Fatima in the visitors’ lounge, she told me to be strong, and I knew she wasn’t only speaking of my mother’s decline. He sat on my mother’s left side and Lina on the right. When she looked at me, I realized I was late. My sister’s face was the tuning fork that forced induction. My knees buckled and I stumbled like a newborn foal. The metronomic beats of the monitor, the jagged peaks of colored lines on the monitor nauseated me. My mother’s timed breathing.
I wanted to say that it wasn’t my fault, that I’d taken the first flight out and made good time. Nothing would escape my lips. My sister hugged me, and my head nestled in her bosom. I squeezed my eyelids shut so I wouldn’t have to look at her breasts, at my father, or at my mother.
My father hadn’t shaved in at least four days, and his face seemed to grow a fresh wrinkle with each beep of the monitor. He stooped over the bed, sheltering my mother.
“She won’t make it through the night,” Lina whispered in my ear. When she felt me shudder, she added, “She knew it. She said goodbye.” She massaged my shaking shoulders, and then led me out to the balcony for her cigarette. “She knew you were coming,” she said, raising her voice a bit to contend with the traffic below. “Don’t worry. It wouldn’t have mattered. She’s been on heavy morphine for a week, didn’t understand much, and didn’t really try to make sense. But she knew, so she kept saying goodbye while reciting stanzas.”
A cleansing breeze whipped around the small veranda. I could hear the distinctive whooshing and popping sounds of two plastic bags being kited by the wind. “I should go back in,” I said.
“Wait,” Lina said. “Give him a minute.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” I couldn’t look at her, but heard her tears. I stared through the picture window at my Hermès-turbaned mother and my father at her side. “What did she say?” I asked.
Lina put her arm around me. “She hasn’t been able to speak clearly for a while.”
“You should’ve called me earlier.”
“Don’t do that,” she said. “I’ve kept you updated. It just happened quicker than I’d expected.”
“What did she say?”