Much Ado in Tangier
A Short Story on Friendships in the Competitive World of Achievement
CHAPTER FIVE:
“
AFTER AN UNEXPECTED OUTING WITH THE MAN WHO GLARED AT HER IN THE ELEVATOR, Fatima came back to the hotel feeling recharged. He told her about his story from when he was in college, how he was addicted to gambling, and if it was not for his best friend, Mansour, he would’ve been on the streets. From the, he became devoted to paying it forward by keeping his daughter safe.
Unlike his outer, he was a wise man who gave her advice to reach out to her friends when she needed help. Saying; “Do not give up on the people who make you feel heard”.
Fatima had a big problem; she had to choose between what her mother wanted and the life she wanted for herself, but she still didn’t have that courage yet to face her, nor herself, with the consequences of such a choice.
This was yet the beginning, and she needed her friends.
She needed Lina and Hajar. Wherever they were right now.
Fatima was drying her hair after a midday shower when she heard knocking at the door. To her astonishment, it was non-other than Lina herself, who was supposedly in Paris enjoying a croissant before la tour Effiel, standing before her at the door of a room in a 5 stars hotel in Tangier instead.
“Lina?” Fatima let out, stupefied.
“Later. It is about Hajar” She cut her off as she decisively grabbed the girl by her wrist.
“Where did you say you met her?” She inquired as she dragged her to the elevator.
“Wait! What is going on?” Fatima stammered struggling for release.
“Answer me first!” Lina faced Fatima with a staggering intensity that made the other give in.
“LA GALETTE”
Moments later, Fatima found herself riding in the car together with Lina, and to her surprise again today, Nabil. Unlike her, when he spot Fatima, he had a warm smile that disappeared as soon as he was caught by Lina, whose face couldn’t show more discomfort at this incredulous chemistry.
Once at LA GALETTE, Fatima was finally done fixing her hair in what she thought a ‘decent’ bun before she was ushered by Lina outside of the car. And for the first time, Lina was at the front all the while grabbing Fatima’s sleeve as they snuck around the coffee shop. Around them, the street was buzzing with tourists, families, and friends hanging out at the heart of the city. Some were on their way back to the parking lot while others just seemed to settle in to explore all the sites it had to offer. With the infamous and traditional shopping street only a street away and the vibrant shore only one detour from them, this spot was buzzing with life.
“Can you tell me what in the world we are doing here?” Fatima inquired, her voice a sharp hiss.
“Hajar. She lied to you. But you will only believe it if you see it with your own eyes as I heard it with my ears.” She explains, lowering her head careful not to be seen.
Just when Fatima thought of a fit response, she was jerked down by Lina who hissed excitedly:
“Here she is!” pointing at a familiar and slouched silhouette traveling between tables.
Fatima stood up, resisted when Lina pulled her back. She released her hold from her wrist, almost mercilessly, pushed her away, and with big strides towards the entrance, she charged in. Behind her, Lina was mindlessly nibbling her nails in anticipation of what was about to unfold.
***
The trip to face her high school friend was longer than their 7 hours’ drive to Oujda. Her mind was racing with irrational thoughts, her heart, that invincible muscle, was slamming against her ribcage while she kept her eyes fixated on nothing else, no one else, but her friend who was yet leaning on the counter, oblivious to what going to happen. Her chest was drumming with a strenuous breath when she was only a few inches away from her. Outside, Lina was watching her with clammy hands behind the glass window, her eyes were glued to the scene before her.
Chaimae was the first to react. She froze and gave Hajar a look, a signal, the last signal before her friend was finally caught.
“You lied to me”
A deep sinister silence fell in. She thought it would last longer, even if it was her wishful thinking, she almost prayed that by the time they met again, her lie would be a reality. Hajar couldn’t believe what was instead happening. How did her life crumble so fast that she couldn’t even defend herself? and why wasn’t a word coming out of her mouth when she had so much to say? It scared her a little. And at this moment, a little felt like too much. Then, looking around, an even bigger emotion invaded her chest: Shame. It pricked her like needles and her eyes fell to the ground in a loud defeat.
“How could you?” Fatima let out, giving the other’s chest a weak push.
Hajar was still lost for words. Words that Fatima was set on receiving. Maybe she didn’t know her as well as she thought she did? Maybe their 5 years of friendship couldn’t compare to the one year when they were apart… Maybe it took only one year to turn the girl who preached on honesty and truth to become a carbon copy of the people she was running away from. Maybe she too didn’t like who she saw in the reflection in the mirror.
Hajar’s eyes welled up and Lina gasped shamelessly at the sight.
“She is crying? I’ve never seen her cry before!”.
“I have to do something.” she precipitated from the glass window to the car, running.
“Nabil!” she screamed, ushering him with her hand in a theatrical urgency.
Inside, Fatima and Hajar were escorted to another table, away from the crowd. The neighboring tables were filled with joyful noise laughter and endless chatter while theirs was wrapped in an icy blanket of silence.
A suffocating wall of silence that neither knew how to break.
“My parents had a divorce” She began, her voice, a low, deep whisper.
She needn’t volunteer herself to the military to experience what it was like to be on a battlefield. Last year, Hajar had lost count of how many times she stumbled, fell, cried, and picked herself up alone. Somehow, her friends were gone for a year too, there was not a peep from either, and waiting had become pointless. She didn’t know it before, but she would wait for an icon of their message while her ears couldn’t ignore the quarrel that was only ascending two rooms far from her bedroom where her sister was curled up on her bed.
“My mom couldn’t take it anymore” she added.
“My little sister developed a depression. I haven’t” A somber laugher escaped her mouth.
“It was hell for a year, Fatima” she admitted, at last, her cheeks flushing redder from her confessions.
“We moved to our grandma’s place, she lives here. I had to be for them. I had to help them somehow. Even if it meant” she breathed in, tears threatening again at the corners of her eyes. “Even if it meant throwing my future away”
“Unlike you. You’re radiant. I’m a bit of a loser” she let out in a somber chuckle.
“Enough,” Fatima said. “Not only you lied to me, but you also didn’t reach out to me when you were hurting, now you’re playing the victim card” she added.
“You’re right. I’m sorry” Hajar smiled, taking some tissues to dry her eyes before she hid her face between her hands.
“And you’re not a loser,” Fatima whispered, offering her hand across the table. Somehow, that echoed like a divine message for her problem.
Her hand remained open on the table. Seemingly lonely, seemingly desperate, and seemingly naked to the artificial chill from the air conditioner while waiting for the other’s response.
Hajar hesitated.
“What are you waiting for?” She prompted.
Out of the blue, a loudspeaker reverberated from one of the road trip songs they used to play on repeat in the car. From their side of the shop, Lina could be seen dancing on the sidewalk before she gave them a sign to join.
“Is she crazy?” Hajar echoed, not helping but breaking into a light chuckle.
Fatima stood up decisively and grabbed her wrist.
“Not you too!” She protested.
A few passengers, mostly kids, joined Lina’s impromptu performance. Nabil invited a few youngsters passing by to join her, and soon enough, Lina was performing to the song they three knew by heart. While Hajar was still processing what was going on, Fatima seized her moment of surprise and dragged her outside.
A few moments later, the street was brimming with life as more people joined the performance of the three friends who brought it inside the shop. Lina pulled Hajar into a tight hug. She whispered something against her ear and handed her the microphone, which Hajar grabbed knowingly. Chaimae grinned widely, her head cupped between her hands in excitement and relief to see Hajar’s smile again. As soon as she held onto the device, Chaimae was both enthralled and in disbelief that she could sing so skillfully. Fatima borrowed the guitar they had at the shop and after giving Lina two big thumbs up, the regular coffee shop swarmed in a new ambiance of celebration.
People took pictures, and some customers sang along, others clapped and joined in as more came in to catch their share of joy. When it was finished, everybody cheered excitedly and clapped as everyone screamed for an encore.
Hajar, Lina, and Fatima reunited in a group hug, and Hajar broke into yet another fit of tears.”
CHAPTER SIX
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THE GLORIOUS SUN GLIDED MAJESTICALLY BEHIND THE MEDITIREANIAN SEAS, painting the sky a scarlet shade of pink, red and yellow, sending off the most diligent birds to sleep, and bringing employers the awaited news of their well-deserved weekend.
The night has just begun for the reunited best friends.
After their performance, they shared their stories and updates over a tray of mint tea and treats “on the house”. By now, Lina had to come clean about her blatant lie, and Fatima had finally found the courage to open up about her struggle. Lina had yet to confess she was the blueberry muffins thief.
“Congratulations Fatima” Hajar cooed, and Lina followed.
Soon enough, the entrance doorbell rang with another figure, a tall young man who seemed just a few years older than Hajar, dropped in a black classical suit, and that smelled of perfume that Lina recognized on her dad from when he left to his office. His face shone with a sweet and knowing grin as soon as he spotted Hajar who smiled back and ushered him to join.
“I wonder who she is smiling to like that” Fatima teased whose back was at the door.
“Oh my god. Isn’t that Amir, heir of Dabi?” Lina squealed in a sharp, low whisper, elbowing Fatima on her side.
“The company I’m interning for?” Fatima inquired over a calm sip of tea.
“Why is he coming towards here, and why is she smiling at?”
“Stop it, this is not a football match” Fatima muttered under her breath.
“You’re so dense! That is your boss’s son, are you sure you don’t want to make an impression?” Lina leaned towards her.
Soon enough, Hajar and Amir were embracing lovingly before the latter stretched out his hand for the other two.
“Glad to make your acquaintances,” he beamed.
Above the Average.
It didn’t matter if they were yet learning what that meant exactly as long as they didn’t settle for the scars of the past. The youth was the feeling they were accountable for reminding themselves of, even if that meant blinking their eyes for a few moments before opening to see the light before them again. It was their right and virtue. The road was still very long, if not endless, and if only they held onto the faint rays of joy that came across them, rather desperately, as a little girl would hold onto the ropes of a swing, beating the wind, reaching her legs for the sky and forgetting the hands that pushed her from behind, they would maybe be too distracted by the ride and the promise of the future to look down at the uncertainty of the present under their feet and ‘what ifs’.
“What if I fall?”
“What if it hurts?”
“What if no one catches me?”
“What if they get hurt while catching me?”
“What if I don’t ever learn how to slow down this swing?”
And maybe, just maybe, if they shut their eyes tight, held onto each other’s hands, pushed a bit higher, one step at a time, knowing the ground will catch them. Certain that the Earth will always help them bounce, they would keep their heads just above the average, those who succumbed to the atrocities of the present.
Maybe then, they would be soaring high for the skies.”
The END.
A special thanks to Afrah Khan, Hayden Moore, Harry Stefanakis, and Nikanshika for being the first engaged readers with this story! It has been a great honor to meet you here and I’m so excited for what’s ahead for all of us!
-Imane Ben
