Tag: iraqi-war

The Circle

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“I’ll remember that.”
“Even if you or Talal need something, you call Bevan. If he calls and wants to
meet you, find the time for him, find anything he needs. Don’t hesitate to do
what is right.”
“Yes, my uncle. I won’t forget.”
The time comes for Ibrahim and the two guards to get to their gate for
departure. Ibrahim hugs and kisses his nephew.
“You have a safe and pleasant trip, my uncle. My kisses to Mara.”
“Thank you, my dear son. See you in Iraq, soon.”

Emily Roberts has been busy making arrangements for Matthew’s funeral scheduled
for Friday. She calls relatives, friends, Bevan Longhorn, of course, who
assures her he’ll be there not only for the funeral but because he also has something
to give her. She sends e-mails to a few people. She calls Cathy and asks for
her help in preparing food for people who might like to go to the house after the
service. Cathy knows what is necessary and gives Emily a list of what things need
to be prepared or ordered from a caterer.
Talal has stayed with her three nights in a row, keeping her company, and
sharing with her the pleasure of talk, of kiss and of a hug, which she needsmore
than anything else these days. They have been in bed next to one another for
three days and nights and haven’t made love yet. They talk a lot, the
conversation going several times to the underwater photography idea of hers,
and Talal reminds her all the time how pretty the water is in the Persian Gulf
and how many different species of marine life one can see there.
Tuesday morning and they are having breakfast, fruit, coffee, two and brown
bread with strawberry jam.
Talal sips his coffee and smiles at her.
“Feeling a bit better today, sweetheart?”
“I’m good, my sweet Talal,” she smiles a brilliant smile.
“Well, a few more days and everything will be behind us.”
She smiles at him again, leans forward and kisses his lips, while wondering at
the same time if everything really will be behind them soon. Are they going to
become a memory? What happens if he decides to go away to his country? What
is she going to do? Will he ask her to go with him?
As if reading her thoughts, Talal says, “Next year, early next year better yet,
we’ll take a short trip.What about that, my sweet Emily?”
“Where do you want to go, Talal?” Emily asks, anticipating his answer.
“How about if we go to my country for a couple of weeks.

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The Circle

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He sits down and looks around the office; the lieutenant catches his eye and
says, “Well, it’s as functional as any other, I suppose.”
The Admiral smiles thinking of his own office, which is very similar.
“Yes, I suppose so, lieutenant. Well, tell me what we know so far; do you have
an autopsy report?”
“Yes, it arrived a little earlier,” Bonetti gives him the written report of the
autopsy.
The Admiral reads the half-page brief and hands it back to the officer.
“It appears to be a clear-cut case, I suppose. Anything else on your mind,
lieutenant?”
“It’s strange that, when we got the phone records from the house, we
determined the widow had made a few calls when she discovered the body. The
first call was to a lover, then to the daughter, then to us third. Then to her
girlfriend.”
“To a lover? There is another man in the picture? I never expected that from
Emily. Are you sure?”
The lieutenant looks him in the eye and says, “No doubt, Admiral. She calls
him “sweetheart” and he says to her, “I’ll be there shortly.” I have seen this
scenario many times, however we cannot place him at the crime scene at the time
of death. The evidence is crystal clear, ballistics, prints, etc.”
“That means the third person has no involvement, I presume,” the Admiral
says. “Who is he, anyway?”
“A person named Talal Ahem, an Iraqi chemist, presently unemployed.”
“I have met this man, Talal Ahem. He is a friend of Hakim Mahdi,
boyfriend of the deceased’s daughter?”
“Yes, Admiral. He was the one with the limo, when I got there.”
“Yes, I know him as well. He’s the nephew of Ibrahim Mahdi, an Iraqi
billionaire, here for cancer treatment. I wouldn’t think these two boys would
have anything to do with this,” he admits to himself aloud.
“Well, it seems you know these people. Now I have something else for you,
Admiral, and this is most strange. When I conducted my examination at the
scene, I noticed signs of tears on the cheeks of the deceased; the medical
examiner confirmed it. The examiner says this man was in a blissful state of
mind when he took his own life. I find that very difficult to follow. Yet the
autopsy confirms that; as you read in the report they found traces of serotonin in
his bloodstream. On the other hand, there was plenty of adrenaline in his
bloodstream also, which means this man had been quite unhappy and angry
before coming to the state of blissfulness, as the examiner put it.”

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The Circle

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have to do now is carry on one day at a time. I’m sure we’ll manage. If you are
concerned about money, don’t worry, we’ll find our way.”
“I don’t worry about money, mother—not at all. I’m just trying to see life
without Dad from now on. It will be hard to adjust.”
“We’ll manage, you’ll see. Just be careful and take care of yourself. Hakim
appears to be a very good man and I know he’s to come into a lot of money. Your
father told me all about it.”
“Why did Dad look into Hakim’s life, Mom?”
“Well, honey, that was your father.”
Later at around six, Hakim tells Jennifer he wants to go see how his uncle is.
The limo will take him to the Sheraton Hotel and from there, when he’s done
with Ibrahim, the driver will drive him to his apartment. Cathy gets up also and
says goodnight to Emily.
“Don’t forget to call anytime, remember?”
Helena also says goodnight and leaves.
“I’d like to go with Hakim, Mom. Are you going to be alright?”
“I’ll be just fine, honey. Go, I’ll be just fine. Talal may stay for a while to keep
me company. You just go.”
Hakim is ready to go, when Talal whispers in his ear, “I’ll stay for a while to
keep Emily company, okay?”
“Are you going to be okay?” Hakim asks, looking at Talal.
“We’ll be just fine. You guys go and see Ibrahim. Say hi to him for me.”
They walk out to the limo and Rassan sits in the front with the driver and
Hakim with Jennifer sit in the back. Fifteen minutes later they arrive at the
Sheraton. They find Ibrahim in his suite happy because he’s out of the clinic and
because the chemotherapy hasn’t given him any negative side-effects, so far.
“Hello, my uncle, how are you?”
“I’m fine, my dear boy. What is this about Jennifer’s dad?”
“He is dead, sir. The police are doing their work now; we’ll hear from the
medical examiner in the next little while,” Jennifer says.
“Oh, my dear, oh, I’m so sorry,” he opens his arms as if ready to hug Jennifer.
She takes the opportunity and falls into his arms. Ibrahim is a bit surprised by
this; however, he knows that this is customary for North Americans, and he hugs
the young woman. Hakim smiles. His uncle is very fond of Jennifer, and that
pleases him a lot.
Ibrahim is already prepared for his return home and Rassan is making the
flight arrangements for as early as tomorrow. Mara will be most happy to have
him home with her.

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The Circle

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“Matthew,” she yells, but hears no answer.
She walks upstairs to their bedroom. Everything is the way she left it before
going out. She goes toward the bathroom and before entering, sees his body
through the half-opened door.
“Oh, my God!” she yells to herself. “Oh my God, Matthew…” She leans
against the door frame of the bathroom. “Oh, my God, you found the courage for
that!” It seems as if she’s waiting for an answer from her dead husband.
She lets her body slide down along the door frame to the floor of the bathroom,
and sits staring at him. All the clocks of the world suddenly stop, and Emily
Roberts exists in a timeless state, in a condition of self-absorption and
contemplation, as if amid the petals of a diaphanous flower, or amid the thorns of
a crown an invisible hand has placed on top of her head, and her blood begins to
trickle down her forehead like in a crucifixion. Then suddenly, time strikes loudly
on her left tympanum and pierces her head to the right, making her blink as if
trying to find consolation among the myriad bad thoughts flooding her mind. The
world doesn’t have any consolation for Emily Roberts, not now, not at this
moment, not today. The world has turned into a new purgatory and Emily floats
like a masked misery searching for the proper face. She feels an inexplicable
numbness; not hatred anymore, not anger, not joy—but a feeling of immense
freedom from the chain she has dragged for such a long time. She feels no pain, but
what is it she feels? Is she filled with fear or is she light as a feather, like a free
butterfly flitting from one flower to the other? Time strikes again as if hitting a
loud cymbal and brings her back to this world where she has things to do. She
needs to call Jennifer; she needs to call the police; perhaps she has to call Bevan;
and yes, she needs to call Talal. Oh, God, how she needs to call him now.
She runs downstairs and picks up the phone.
She dials Talal’s number first.
He answers, “hi, sweetheart, what’s up?”
“Matthew. Matthew is dead.”
“What? How? Are you okay? I’m coming right over. Stay calm, I’ll be right
there.”
She dials Jennifer’s cell number.
Jennifer answers, “hi mom, how are you?”
“Sweetheart, it’s your dad. Come home, please. Your dad is dead.”
Jennifer is with Hakim in Ibrahim’s hotel room. They have helped him from the
clinic to his suite at the Sheraton. She’s flabbergasted hearing about her dad being
dead. She says aloud, “What happened? How? I’m coming home, right now.”
Hakim, who has overheard, says, “What happened? Is everything alright?”
“No honey, I have to go home, right now, please. My dad is dead.”

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The Circle

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incinerated bodies, and pain. Then she remembers the body of a man next to
hers and she is being violated. Her mind, suddenly feels as if it is exploding when
she realizes what had really happened.
She turns to Matthew and says, “So, you have come to enjoy necrophilia
these days, Matthew Roberts. You must be really desperate. You obviously
couldn’t wait until morning.”
He turns looking at her with a smile.
“You looked so attractive, sweetheart, I couldn’t resist.”
Suddenly the room becomes dark and an explosive anger overtakes her
whole body; her eyes darken and her heart accelerates in a frenetic rhythm as if to
break through her chest and run away, burning everything in its path.
“Of course, you couldn’t resist using your weekend whore. That’s what you
always do, five minutes for your pleasure; five minutes is always enough for you
to find your manhood at its peak. The thought of how you view lovemaking
makes me puke,” she yells.
He’s flabbergasted by her outburst; he has never seen his Emily in this state of
mind. This is not his Emily, the quiet calm person he has known all those years.
She screams from the depths of her larynx and her voice carries such disgust,
such pain, such nausea that his eyes and mouth open wide and he doesn’t know
what to do or say. Suddenly, he interrupts her.
“What is it, sweetheart? Why all this commotion?”
“Don’t sweetheart me! Don’t you ever dare sweetheart me again, Matthew
Roberts. I’ve had enough of that. I have had enough of that, do you hear me? I’m
not your sweetheart or your weekend whore, anymore!”
He ducks down as if expecting her to throw something. He has never seen her
this way. He becomes apologetic.
“What would you like me to do, Emily?”
But her anger is so fierce and unappeased that she can no longer think logically.
She yells out her frustration and pain, “When you come to the point of violating me
when I’m asleep, I don’t know what you want me to say, Matthew. You are
despicable! You make me sick! Yes, my God, how you make me sick! I don’t even
want to look at you anymore.Why the hell do I put up with your crap all the time?
For the stupid salary you earn; for the stupid agency you work for; for the stupid life
you and I lead? It makes me sick to think of all that. Yes, Matthew Roberts, it makes
me sick! You make me sick. I want you out of here. Are you listening to me? I want
you out of here, out of my life! I’m not your weekend whore, anymore. Go, go to
your stupid hotel where you spend every day of the week. You may as well spend
your weekends there. Why did you come here? For your five-minute fuck?” The
tears course down her cheeks, and she wonders why she has not revolted before?

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The Circle

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and then when they retire, most often they collapse from the stress of the
years they spent at work and away from home, like Matthew. What have you
been doing all your life, sweet Emily? What have you been doing for Emily? You
said the other day that you would like to get into underwater photography. How
are you going to do that being married to a man who has no time for his wife, let
alone for what his wife likes to do?”
Emily looks at him, but is at a loss for words. She knows he’s right, although
she’s afraid to admit that even to herself. The world is a scary place without
money, she knows. She also knows Matthew and Emily hardly make it on his
salary.
“It’s scary to think of being out there without the means to survive, sweet
Talal,” she utters, as if to convince herself that that is the most important thing at
this time.
“Yes, I agree. But what will you do to survive is the question, my sweet Emily.
Do you sell out what counts for the security of having money? This is a call we all
have to make.”
“That’s right, my love, do you sell out what counts?” she asks, instead of
answering his question.
He smiles brightly at her as if trying to see into her very soul and says, “No, sweet
Emily, you never sell out, no matter what. Because if you do, how can you face
yourself in themirror and say you have been true to yourself; I have been true to my
integrity, I haven’t sold out. That is what counts in life and that’s the reason I would
never sell out.”
“Perhaps you are right. But it’s different for a man than for a woman.” She
points out.
“No, my love, there is no difference. It’s only a matter of personal belief, a
matter of effort, a matter of achievement, a matter of commitment, that’s all!”
She lays her head on his shoulder and says nothing more, as if listening to the
gap between two words or two breaths, or two of her heartbeats that sound like
the song of a woman in love with this Iraqi man with the sweet voice and the sad
eyes. He’s very pleased that he has made her aware of Matthew’s work, because
he knows that, later, all this will sink in and the result is going to be exactly what
he wants. Talal sits listening to the song of the wind through the small park
where they sit, a song that unfolds slowly and methodically like a majestic eagle
spreading its wings to the heights of the sky.
They begin walking once more, holding hands and observing nature all
around them. They see the bright colors of the trees and flowers, and the shining,
splashing water of the pond where the sun’s rays reflect like crystals. They come
to a smaller pond filled with ducks making all kinds of sounds

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same job that has bought his life out. When he sits in his office he feels like
another piece of furniture or even like the cheap print on the wall. All this for a
salary that keeps him and his family fed, but has kept him forever hungry for all
the other things in life which he has missed out on.
He has lived this life for thirty years of five days everyweek in the same office and
the same crummy hotel room. His life is like a wound up machine, well-oiled,
well-serviced to do as expected of him; a machine that uses little energy and that
produces a bit of something for the people above. Five days aweek away from home
and two days at home with Emily and his daughter Jennifer, who has grown up
without a dad and Emily, with a husband on call, with a life in pieces, in increments,
like an eyedropper giving a drop here and a drop there, enough to keep one seeing
something of life, but not enjoying a real life.
Many a time he has wished for a different job, a different life closer to his
family, but it’s too late now, too late for change. Retirement is coming soon and
he looks forward to that.
He gets ready monotonously, like a robot doing things as if wound up, like a
wound-up little man that kids play with, with his brand new batteries every day,
the same routine, every day the same sequence from getting up in the morning to
going to bed late at night. The TV, his opium, there to keep him company; the
TV close by, but his wife and daughter and everything else a human being likes to
have close, always far away.
In his office he doesn’t even say good morning to the receptionist, who has
been his smile-of-the-day kind of a person. She’s surprised when he doesn’t talk
to her on his way by. She knows something heavy sits on his heart; she has
noticed over the last few years that this man is just an automaton and the softness
of his heart—the heart she remembers from the first days she met him—is just
not there anymore. What a job can do to a person is amazing, but it isn’t her
place to ask him about it or to do anything about it. She knows that’s where his
wife comes in—when a man has something heavy in his heart. Dorothy also
knows she isn’t his wife, so she let his wife worry about it. But does his wife care
to know what sits heavily in her husband’s heart? Dorothy has never met Mrs.
Roberts.
It’s about nine o’clock, the usual time he dials the number to reach home.
“Hello there, honey,” he says, when Emily answers the phone.
“Hi Matthew. How are you, today?” A question asked for the millionth time,
and here comes the answer, repeated for the millionth time.
“I’m okay; how are things at home?”
“Everything is the same,” deep in Emily’s heart, she wishes things could be
different for a change.

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She’s proud of her body and doesn’t hesitate to show it off. She takes
her seat and orders a glass of red wine, as well.
When seated and relaxed, she looks at Emily. Suddenly, she brings her hand
to her mouth and says, “Oh, my God, what is it? Tell me it isn’t—Emily, what’s
going on?”
Emily leans a bit closer.
“What is it? I’m just a happy woman. That’s all.”
“Who is he? Tell me, I know there’s someone. Just tell me who he is!”
Emily laughs at her, and admits, “Yes, there is someone. I’m crazy, Cathy! I’m
crazy to feel this way at my age. I’m crazy, you can say that!”
“Oh no, love, I don’t think you’re crazy at all. Just take a deep breath, and tell
me all about it.”
Emily sips her wine and talks slowly, as if afraid of people in the restaurant
hearing her talk, or as if she is afraid Matthew will hear from where he is. She’s
almost whispering and Cathy has to lean in close to understand her.
At one point, Cathy interrupts her and says, “My dear Emily, I have been
wondering for a long time when this moment would come. You know, with Matt
always so busy working and out of town. I’m proud of you. Life is for everyone,
you know? We all deserve a share in the sun. The question, of course, is when are
you going to tell Matt? Oh yes, one more question. You lucky girl, a
thirty-something-year-old? Is that Talal’s age?”
Emily laughs again and they both sip their wine. They have ordered salads
and when the waiter serves them they begin eating with relish. As they eat, Cathy
asks, “I suppose no one knows so far? Does Jennifer know?”
“No, no one knows other than you. You must keep it from Bob. I don’t really
know which way things are going to go or which direction I’m going to take right
now.”
Cathy leans closer to her, “There is only oneway to go in things like this, darling,
and that is the way of the heart. Don’t let fear lead you to failure; don’t fail me and
don’t fail yourself. Unless you want to regret it later. One fine day, you’ll wake up
with tears in your eyes and ask the terrible question in front of the mirror.”
“What do you mean? What question?”
“The question that says, ‘how stupid was I not to take the chance when I had
it?’ That’s the question, darling. You see, by that time it’s too darn late, even to
cry about it.”
Emily looks at her and admits Cathy has a good point. Deep in her heart, she
already knows what she wants to do, yet the fear is there, staring at her with a
sardonic smile. Thinking about it makes her spine squirm. How is she going to
find the courage to do what she wants?

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HAKIM ISONHISWAY to the Sheraton Hotel to meet his uncle so they can go
together to the medical center. He’s worried about what they will find out, but he
doesn’t want this to show. He wants to be courageous and strong for his uncle.
They arrive by limousine and a specialist meets them in a consultation room.
He confirms what’s already known about the tumor in Ibrahim’s liver. He
indicates it’s a very small-sized malignancy. At this stage, it’s unclear what type of
cancer it is, but he confirms that the tumor is a new type they don’t know very
much about. Therefore, it would be inappropriate for him to tell Ibrahim with any
certainty that it will respond positively to the new chemotherapy. For that reason,
he’ll start Ibrahim on a light dose. The specialist has arranged for Ibrahim to be
admitted to a private clinic where the medication is to be administered, and he’ll
be monitored twenty-four hours a day.
The specialist stops briefly, but continues to look at Ibrahim and Hakim to
ensure that, so far, everything is understood. Then he carries on.
“If we see that the drug doesn’t produce any adverse effects, the second dose,
and the third and fourth, can be given orally in the form of a pill that you can take
on your own, in the comfort of your own home. However, the first time the drug
is administered, we would like to monitor you very closely at the clinic. I’ll leave
you alone for a few minutes to absorb what I’ve told you. Then I’ll return with
further instructions.”
He gets up and the other two follow him out of the consultation room.
Hakim turns and gazes him. Ibrahim is pale and shaken. This is the first time
Hakim sees his uncle with fear in his eyes. The pride and gracefulness that he
possessed are gone. A layer of fear has taken over like a black shroud covering the
old man’s eyes.
“I wouldn’t worry they do miracles with medicine these days.” Hakim says
trying to relieve his uncle’s gloom.
“I guess so,” his uncle nods in agreement. “But, it means I cannot go home yet.”
“When were you planning to go home?”
“As soon as I’m done with these guys dear boy; Mara is most anxious for me
to get home; however, now she has to wait for a few more days.”
“You have to be here for only one or two more days so they can see …

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Thursday morning Los Angeles opens her eyes, staring at the sun rising steadily
on the eastern horizon, gifting the city with warmth and joy. Even the homeless
smile this morning knowing it will be easier to locate food in the restaurant garbage
bin or the neighborhood pub garbage; there’s always something edible
there. The smog overarches the city touching the taller buildings, sitting lazily on
top of the high-rises. Rush hour is beginning and traffic increases with bottlenecks
in main arteries. One can hear the morning sounds of the commercial,
business center as people slowly reach to their destinations, stores open their
doors and customers rush in.
Ibrahim Hazim Mahdi sips his morning coffee and reads the latest news. He’s
pleased with the way his day went yesterday; he felt pride with Hakim next to
him all along. Sometimes, he remembers having asked Allah why he wasn’t
gifted with a son of his own, yet that was years ago. These days he takes what
comes his way as a gift from the Almighty because he knows the days of each are
counted first by Him and next by His people.
Ibrahim knows deep in his heart that Hakim is going to do just fine with the
money that he’s leaving for him. He also knows that Hakim will take good care of
his Auntie Mara, as long as Allah choses to keep her in this world. Despite all
these positive thoughts there still lingers an unexplained anxiety which has taken
hold of his mind and makes his heart ache; yet he cannot find the reason for it.
He wonders why he feels this now, after has taken care of everything.
The phone rings and he answers to a girl’s voice.
“Good morning, I’m calling from the medical center. Mr. Mahdi, please.”
“This is Ibrahim Mahdi.”
“Sir, I need to arrange an appointment for you with the specialist who
examined you. He has the results from your tests. What would be the best time
for you later today?”
“Any time is fine, young lady.”
“Alright then, is one in the afternoon okay?”
“Yes, that will be fine; I’ll be there at one.”

It’s early evening in Baghdad, and Ibrahim decides to call Mara. He dials his
number at home. The maid gets the phone and calls his wife.
“Hello,” he says, “how are you? I haven’t talked to you for two days.”
He hears Mara weeping on the other end and asks, “Why are you crying, my
beloved? I’ll be home in a couple of days. Is everything alright?”
“Yes, everything is alright,” she manages to say while sobbing. “Are you really
on your way home soon?” She doubts him.

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