1 JENNIFER RISES (There is nothing wrong)

 

“Freedom! What a beautiful illusion is sold to us! Slavery is behind every human accomplishment, such as the pyramids and even America. The land of freedom and dreams had been established, and still is, based on slavery that did not end, but changed its forms. The master no longer feeds his slaves, but gives them wages to buy their foods, and no longer binds them with chains but with debts. The truth is that if a man is left to his own choices, he will waste his life. For me, I would rather be a slave if I have the ability to choose my master, and I chose Omar.”  

Mrs. Lori, my new therapist, tried to hide her shock by closing her mouth and looking down at her paper. Her office was small with not much furniture. There were bookshelves behind her desk, and there was no window. The office was lit by one table lamp but the light was comfortable for relaxing and confiding. My last therapist’s office was too big and had three big windows and strong ceiling lamps. There was too much light to open myself. I felt I was naked under the spotlight. So, I came to Mrs. Lori. 

As Mrs. Lori did not interrupt me, I continued, “Yes, I chose him to be my master. I did not choose him to come to live in my house. My ex-husband and my kids did. They thought I had to rent a room in my house to be able to make a living beside the alimony that my ex pays me. My kids read his ad in the university and convinced me to call him. When they told me he is from Iraq, I told them: ’So, you will bring a terrorist to my house!’”

He moved to my house in August before the fall semester. For me, he looked odd and older than a college student. He is neither black nor white… neither tall nor short… neither fat nor skinny, and has soft black hair. I thought he would be black because we call the Arabs “Sand niggers.” He lived downstairs and I did not see him much. He spent most of his time out. I just saw him a couple of times in the kitchen and laundry room. One time, when I went to get my mail, I saw his window open. I went downstairs shouting at his face: “We don’t live in a desert here to open the window! We have air conditioning here. You waste my electricity and you don’t pay the bill.” When he did not reply, I looked at him as if he is stupid. “Do you understand me?” I asked him but he just smiled and apologized. I was surprised because I thought he would fight me back. However, everything changed on Thanksgiving.  

I remember when I hung up the phone and started crying. I was sitting on my couch. I threw my cell phone next to me and I stood. I took the TV remote from the table in front of me and I threw it angrily toward the wall. I walked to the wall and I started to hit my head on it repeatedly.  

He came upstairs and held my back. “Do not touch me!” I screamed and stopped crying. “You are bleeding,” he said while putting his hands down.  

• It’s not your business. 
• I am a doctor.  
• You’re a student. 
• Yes, I study for a licensing examination to practice in the US. Now, would you allow me to take care of you? 
• Why do you care? 
• Why not? 
• You’re not me. 
• I do not need to be you to care about you. Do you have a first aid kit? 
• Yes, in my linen closet.  

He brought the first aid kit, laid them on the table and stood in front of me. When he moved his chest close to my head with the cotton, I smelled smoke. “You smoke?” I asked him when I moved my head back and looked at him in censure. “Yes,” he said while cleaning my forehead with his wet cotton.  

• Doctor and smoke? 
• I am just a man. 
• Not all men smoke. 
• I mean I am not perfect. 

When he finished, he sat beside me, turned his face to me and asked: “Are you ok?” I looked down and said while crying “It is thanksgiving. I cooked for my kids. I don’t want to eat Thanksgiving alone, but they will go to eat with their dad, and his wife doesn’t want me there.”  

“Can I eat with you?” He asked and I looked at him. He smiled and continued: “Do not worry! I will pay for your food. It is better than going to a restaurant alone today, and actually most restaurants are closed today. By the way, it is the first Thanksgiving for me. Can I experience it with you?” 

I noticed that he pronounces "Th" as "S". For the first moment, I did not understand what he meant by eating "wis" me and “sanksgiving”. I asked him to follow me to the kitchen where I opened the oven and gave him some gloves. “Take the turkey out and cut it into slices,” I jokingly said in a peremptory tone. By watching him cut the turkey, I could tell that his experience in the kitchen is zero. After I had put the dishes on the table, I told him: “Before we eat, we should start with a prayer to bless the food and then each one will say what he is grateful for.”

·         What prayer?

·         Make one.

When he closed his eyes to read his prayer, I tried to hold his hand but he, unconsciously, moved his hand fast toward himself. I laughed, so he gave me his hand and started his prayer: “Oh God, the lord of the worlds, the most gracious, most merciful! All the praises and thanks be to you for the blessings and grace you have bestowed on our life. Your generosity precedes our gratitude. Your blessings and grace are much more than our capacity and ability to thank you. You have provided us with more than we can praise you enough. So, forgive us our incapability and failure to thank your blessings and grace as they deserve. Amen!”

·         It’s a beautiful prayer.

·         Thank you. Now, what are you grateful for?

I cried “There is nothing in my life to be grateful for,” I continued “What about you?”

·         I am grateful for you to sit, eat and laugh with me. Two hours ago, I thought that would be impossible. 

I looked down and whispered: “I am sorry.” He patted my hand when he said: “You did not know me, but I am happy you do now.”

We ate together and he praised my cooking even though he told me that my food was better than the restaurants’ food. I did not believe him, but he offered me to cook for him for money. After the meal, he gave me twenty-five dollars and thanked me. Also, I apologized for my previous cruelty with him. He smiled and said: “It is understandable. You did not know me. Have a good evening.” He said while he tried to go back again downstairs. I threw my head between his shoulder and neck and cried. “Why do you cry now?” He asked when he put his arms around my back and I whispered “Thank you for being nice to me.” However, this hug was longer than what was expected. It did not end until the following morning on the bed. This long hug filled my empty life

Mrs. Lori stopped writing and looked at me ""What did you find in Omar that was not in others to fall in love with him so fast?"

I looked at the empty seat next to me and sighed: “Everyone around me was looking for an outlet of unmanaged anger. So, I became their outlet for their hate and revenge. I used to be asked: “What’s wrong with you?” all the time. First time I was asked this question was by my father when we were on a trip to see our family in Indianapolis, and we were all in the car together. We stopped at a gas station in Saint Louis to fill gas and go to the bathroom, but I was constipated. I do not know why I always have trouble pooping when we are on trips. Maybe because my mother did not want to waste the expired milk and used to force me to drink it. When everyone returned to the car and we resumed our way, I started to fart.  My father looked at my mother disgusted while he was driving and told her: ‘What’s wrong with that kid? Give her some stomach medicine!’” 

He continued repeating that many times until we arrived in Indianapolis. My father was a very angry man, and my brother and I were scared of him. He worked as a draftsman, after he had been discharged from the military and sent home from Vietnam, because of a “gross stress reaction”, which was called PTSD ten years later. When I was sixteen, he retired early and got a pension and social security because of his depression. My mother started to put him down because she expected him to do more things around the house such as mowing, vacuuming, shopping, cutting the trees, organizing the garage, cleaning the driveway and taking the trash out, but he did not do anything except watch war movies and play his clarinet. He was playing his clarinet in his room, when my mother came from the kitchen yelling at him: “So, your clarinet cannot wait until you mow the yard! Our neighbors would report us to the city, but you do not care about anything except your stupid clarinet.”

He stopped his playing but kept the clarinet between his lips. He just looked at my mother until she gave up on his response and left the room angry. He put the clarinet down close to his chest. I came to him, patted his right shoulder and said: “She didn’t mean it.” He raised his left arm and held my hand. “Today is Saturday. I will watch the movie with you tonight,” I said. On the following day, I was, as usual these days, in my room playing the solitary card game to stay away from people. My father was mowing, when my mother came to my room and stood by the door. “Don’t put yourself between your father and me again.” She said and continued “Someday, you will be a wife and mother, and you won’t be anything but a wife and mother.” I remembered the last sentence when I sat on the first day in my first and last college class. Second day I was afraid I was not good enough to pass this course. Third day, I did not go to college. Instead, I went to visit one of my girlfriends and stayed with her until the time of my course was over. I continued to visit her at the time of this course until the end of the semester. When my mother found out after the end of the semester, she asked me: “Do you think we are too rich to waste our money? What’s wrong with you?”

When some members of our church had told me that Jack asked them about me, I was happy to know that he is interested in me. He was a new member of our church and moved from Springfield for his work. I could not wait until he asked me to go out with him. We started dating and I told everybody I met, how smart he is. He was an engineer, had a bachelor's degree and was studying courses to get his master. Plus, when you listen to him, you would feel like he knows everything. My parents met him at the church and they were impressed by his educational and professional accomplishment. I went to Springfield with him to visit his parents. Actually, I was surprised when he proposed to marry me after we had met his parents. His father welcomed me with open arms, silver tongue and warm heart. His mother was completely different. Her eyes did not look at me, but examined me. She asked me all types of questions about my parents’ jobs, why I did not go to college, what I do in my life, what I want to do in future, where I got that dress from, what food I cook well, how many times I go to gym and … etc. She looked disappointed when I told her I never cook or go to the gym. She gave me the impression that I was not good enough for her son. Later after marriage, Jack told me that his mother actually said it to him on that day “She’s not good enough for you.”

She was talking about the places she liked to go when she came to Kansas City, and city market was one of these places. “I had never been in the city market.” I said while smiling.  “Never?” She asked when uncrossed her legs and moved her trunk forward toward me to look at me like a detective looks at the suspect. “Yes, never.” I replied when I looked at Jack to see if they considered not going to the city market as the original sin or something. She said “You were born in Kansas City and lived there all your life and you have never been to the city market? What is wrong with you?”

They say “you will marry a man like your father,” but I married a man like my mother. Both Jack and my mother have controlling personalities. Both competed to control me, so they did not like each other. Jack felt my mother tried to interfere in our life after marriage, so he did not like me to call her. Our marriage was like a tree in the spring, it grew branches and leaves. We bought a nice house and had three beautiful children. After six years, our marriage tree entered its fall season, and it started to lose one leave every day. I worked as a secretary in a bank from 8 am to 5 pm, and then went back home to take care of the house and my three children. I did not have time to cook, so we ate fast foods or frozen foods most of the time. On weekends, I tried to release my stress by playing video games. Jack and I spent most of our waking time at work, so why could not we enjoy our life? We made good money but it was never enough. I felt like we just live to work to pay the mortgage, government’s taxes (federal, state, city, property and sales taxes) and insurance companies (home, cars and health insurance). Women used to work only inside the house until feminism made us working inside and outside of the house. I do not understand how that benefits women. It was too stressful for me, but it was not good enough for Jack. He complained about not cleaning the house as well as he wanted. He used to tell me how I was a bad wife, mother and cook. He blamed me for everything, for not completing his classes for his master’s degree, and for everything wrong the children did, such as playing video games all the time instead of doing their homework or cleaning their rooms. He thought all their problems were my fault because I am a bad example for them. When I told him "I feel depressed," he did not believe me, and said "Don’t be deceived by the liberal media. Mental illness is an illusion. God created us equals." I told him "Yes, God created us equals but different. Mental illness is a fact because there is a connection between how the brain works physically and emotionally." He looked at me and said: "You don’t think in this way. I know you very well. You just like to complain about everything. Look! Happiness is a choice.” He lectured me about changing my life, being a different person, having goals for my life and planning to achieve them. While he was talking, I started to think about how my mother denied my father's depression. I was not listening to Jack when he asked me: "So, what goals do you want to achieve in the next five year?" I had to have him ask his question again because I did not hear it the first time. Since this time, I stopped sharing my feelings or thoughts with him. On the following day, he bought me a gift. I kissed him and I opened it. It was a book titled “Happiness is a choice.” 

The following month, he took us to Orlando, Florida to take a week break from my stressful life and then come back to continue it without any change. They say work hard and play hard, but I wish to work and play slower. 

My father suffered from non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma for three years before he died. In these three years, I used to take my children to visit my parents every weekend and invite them down to our house every holiday and birthday. I told my children that their grandfather was going to die, and they needed to spend as much time with him as they could.

At that time, Jack started threatening me with divorce. I told him, “I don’t have space in my mind to argue with you or even think about that now while my father is sick and dying. So, if you want to divorce me, just do it or shut up until my father dies.”

After my father had died, a female friend from our church told me that she and her husband saw Jack dancing with a woman at a dance club. I confronted him and he did not deny it. He said, “It was just an emotional affair, not sexual,” but I did not believe him.

Until that day, our marriage tree had lost all its leaves except the leaf of sex. Sex was the only thing still good in our marriage. After that day, I could not have sex with him anymore. I signed up on a dating site, cheated on him with strangers and started to drink more than I used to. 

The question "What is wrong with you?" kept haunting me even at my work. I was at my desk when Mrs. Lowery, my boss at Bank of America, called me to come to her office. When I entered her office, she looked nervous and did not ask me to sit as she used to. Instead, she asked me to close the door behind me. Once I did, she clasped her hands on the desk and asked: "Did you send the faxes to the two companies as I told you yesterday?"

"Yes, I did." I said while touching my nose and moving close to her desk.

 She tapped her feet and put her head on left hand while looking at me suspiciously: "I tried to check on the trades this morning, but I found nothing. So, I called these companies. One said they did not get anything from you, and the other one said that you faxed them a note to disregard both faxes. 

I turned red and started stammering while taking steps back and crossing my arms: "I sent both faxes to one company. When I realized my mistake, I faxed a note to this company to disregard one of my two faxes, but it seems like they disregarded both faxes."

She put her left arm down and said in a firm voice: “What is wrong with you? Do you think you work here alone? Do not ever act by yourself. You should tell me about your mistake instead of trying to fix it on your own, and I would help you. Your mistake lost the bank thousands of dollars.”   

We are the teeth of a large cog, and if any tooth comes out of the belt, it should be broken, so the cog will run in the belt smoothly. I was suspended at the bank for a week before they fired me.

I stayed home and visited a psychologist, and he prescribed antidepressants to me. It did not work but made me gain forty pounds in two months. Jack thought I was making it up and nothing was wrong with me. Unfortunately, my children believed their father. 

When Jack checked my email and found out about my profile on the dating site, he got mad. However, he did not ask me the same question everyone asked me “What’s wrong with you?” Instead, he told me “You are no better than our dog’s piece of shit in the backyard.” I went to my room, took my medication bottles in a plastic bag and left the house. I did not know where to go. I sat in my van crying until I saw a police car, its lights flashing, behind me. I was not driving. I was just sitting in my van in front of our house. So, I did not understand what the policeman wanted until he came to knock on my window. When I put my window down, he greeted me while he was looking at the medicines on the passenger seat. After I had greeted him back, “Where are you heading?” he asked. “Nowhere! I am just sitting in my van. Is that a problem?” I answered. “Your husband reported that you threatened to commit suicide. Please, get out of the van.” When I jumped out of the van, he put his right hand on his gun. I got startled and moved back with my arms across my chest. He apologized: "Sorry, I thought you were going to attack me. Please, put your hands behind your back." I did and then he put me in handcuffs and placed me in the back of his car. At the police station, he put me in a holding cell while He made a few calls and then took me to the emergency room in shackles.

At the emergency room, the police man told the doctor that I threatened my husband with suicide but I denied. The doctor left me in my room to call my psychiatrist. When Jack came, I raised my hands in the shackles and I told him: "I will never forget this". The doctor came back and said: "Your psychiatrist recommended sending you to the mental hospital that he works with." I stayed in this hospital three days and then they sent me home with more medicines after they had found what was wrong with me. They diagnosed me with bipolar disorder. So, everyone around me was right and I was in the wrong.

 When I went back home, I did not leave my bed unless I needed to go to the bathroom. The TV was on all the time in front of my bed, but I really did not watch anything. Jack stayed with our kids downstairs. He had to cook and take care of them. My kids used to come to my room to check on me. After my son had bent over my bed and hugged me, he stepped back and told me: "Mom, you smell bad." At this time, I was feeling numb. Nothing affected me in either a good nor bad way. Jack started the process for divorce. I got twenty thousand dollars from his retirement plan, and my mother made me put this money down in a house. Jack helped me to find this house where I live now. 

Every morning, I did not want to wake up or to leave my bed. I know I would just start a new chapter of crap like every other day. To release my mind from all this stress, I used to sit on my couch playing the video games that I became addicted to. I did not want anyone to bother me. I wanted to yell at everybody around me: “Shut up!” and to our planet: “Stop running faster than me! I can’t catch you.” I used to walk frowning with my face looking down at the ground like an ostrich that buries her head in the sand so that she will not see the danger coming towards her. I wanted neither to see anyone nor anyone to see me. I wished a big hole would swallow me up so I would disappear. I tried to commit suicide a few times by taking extra pills of my medicine, but I was not brave enough to complete it. After I had taken the pills, I called 911.  I was not sure what I wanted: to die or just to hurt myself.

When I stopped, Mrs. Lori had put her pen on the paper and looked at my eyes for a while before she said: “Every society has standards to evaluate its members. It is a good idea to ask ourselves how to live up to the standards of our society.”

I spread my arms apart while saying: “I failed to live up to the American standards, and I needed to be evaluated by a different standard, but I did not know that until I met Omar. He saw me with a different lens and showed me that there is nothing wrong with me. The wrong is with my society. It is not a society anymore. It is a market where everything has a price for sale, or it is a competition where there is only one winner in every race, the fastest and most accurate shooter, like the western movies. All others are failures, like me. This standard succeeded in building a powerful state and depressed citizens, because how can 300 million be evaluated by the same standard? If you live in a market you need to learn how to sell yourself. I was never good at that. Sometimes, when I look at people around me, I feel like they are actors in a big show, like the movie (The Truman Show). For me, what can I sell? My body? Even that, I cannot sell. I am fat. I have a big belly, chunky legs and flabby arms. When I went to a swingers’ party in my lingerie, there were younger and skinnier women, so no man asked me for sex. I needed a connection with life, and I thought it was sex.”

Omar took me from below the American standards to lift me up above them. When I slept beside him for the first time, I woke up early and looked at this strange man sleeping naked beside me under one comforter. My family treated me in the way Joseph’s brothers set him up for slavery. They had stripped him of his richly ornamented robe before they threw him into the pit in the desert. After the caravan of Ishmaelites had bought him and started their way in the desert, did he cry? Did he call his brothers? Or did he just trust God’s plan and go with his new masters readily? Did he look back or forward? How was he able to communicate with the Ishmaelites when he had nothing in common with them? How did he feel safe with them if his own brothers betrayed him? 

I left the bed quietly so as not to wake him up, and I went to the kitchen to make breakfast. After this day, he stayed with me upstairs and did not go downstairs except to study. I cooked for him and did his laundry. I discovered that he was not like Ishmaelites. Rather, he was like the Egyptians who transformed Joseph from a foreigner and slave to a master in the land where he had sojourned. He never asked me to brush my teeth, to take a shower or to lose weight, like others. Instead, he used to tell me: “Let’s brush our teeth”, “Let’s take a shower together”, or “Let’s go to the gym.”

I cannot forget the first time Omar saw snow. He had an appointment at the university. So, he wore a nice shirt under his black overcoat, slacks and dress shoes. When he opened the front door, he stood there and opened his mouth wide "WOW! How beautiful it is." Everything was covered white and once he took one step out, he was on his back on the ground. I ran to him "I am so sorry. I forgot to warn you." He was laughing when I tried to help him raise up. Every time he tried; he fell again laughing. When he finally stood on his feet, started to brush off his coat and pants. I held his hand like my child and took him inside the house where I told him "First, you cannot have this type of shoes in this weather. Second, I do not think you know how to drive in the snow."

"What about my appointment?" He laughed again.

- "I will drive for you.".

- "What will you do while I am there?"

- "I will go to a coffee shop there and call me when you are done to come to get you."

He hugged me and said "I am lucky to have you." Since that day, he called snow the evil beauty. 

I was anxious to understand him. So, I googled Iraqi culture, but I got more confused. As a Muslim, he should not have had sex with me since we are not married. Also, he should pray five times a day and should not drink any alcoholic beverages, but he loves wine and does not pray except one prayer on Friday at the mosque. 

One day, I cooked him a famous Iraqi dish as a surprise. I covered it with aluminum foil and went downstairs. He was sitting in the middle of the couch, with his feet up on the coffee table in front of him. The laptop was on his lap and there were a pen, a book and a notebook on his right side of the couch. He did not notice me because he was scattered between reading the book, writing notes on the notebook and looking at his laptop.

“Are you familiar with this smell?” I asked him. He moved his feet down, put the laptop on the coffee table and said “I smell delicious food,” while turning his smiling face to me. “Do you know what it’s?” I challenged him. He did not want to guess. I uncovered the dish and asked “Do you like Iraqi Dolma stuffing?” He took his glasses off, laid them beside him on his left side of the couch and asked me: “How did you know about this dish?” When I told him “Online,” he took the dish from me, put it on the coffee table, stood and hugged me. 

“I want you to eat and tell me if it tastes like home or not.” He sat and started to eat when I sat beside him on his left side of the couch. He liked it and thanked me many times. After eating, I took the plate and the spoon, and he tried to go back to his laptop, but he did not find his glasses. When I stood, he found them broken on the side where I was sitting on the couch. “I am sorry! I am so sorry! I should have looked before I sat. It’s my mistake. It’s my mistake,” I repeated while crying. 

He hugged me again and said: “No, it is my mistake. I should put my glasses on the table, not on the couch. We are human beings, and it is ok to make mistakes. I do not expect you to be perfect. We are not angels.” 

I separated myself from his body to look at him. His statement shook me. It was new for me, but I felt like I lived all my life before, just longing for this meaning. How did he put it in these very simple words? “I love you!” I said.

He looked startled before he sat again and said: “I do not believe in love.” 

I felt ashamed and regretted my impulsiveness when I asked “Do you mean you don’t love me?” 

He shook his head when he took hold of my waist, sat me on the couch beside him and said “No, no! It is not a personal issue about you, me or others. I am talking about the absolute idea of love.” 

I leaned back on the couch, looked at the sun's rays falling across the floor, and said: “God is love. He loves your parents. So, He created them and provided for them. Your parents loved each other, and that is why you’re alive now.”

• I believe in the Sufi love to the whole universe, 
• I don’t understand! 
• I just do not believe in romantic love in the idealistic thought.
• What are you talking about?

He looked at me as a teacher looked at his student, and said: “In the Platonic myth, people were hermaphrodites powerful enough to scale the heavens. So, Zeus (father of all gods) split each person in two. Since then, human beings live in an eternal search for their other half. We are longing to become whole again, to be restored to our original nature. For me, I do not believe that there is a partner who once formed part of my body, or that I need to wander the world over seeking this partner who is also looking for me somewhere in the world.”

·         Why do you complicate it so much? I just love you.

·         Ok, what is love for you?

·         I don’t know. 

·         What about the opposite of love? Sometimes, we do not know a thing until we know its opposite. 

I looked at the window again to avoid his eyes and my feeling of being challenged and tested. I thought about Jack for a while before I turned my eyes to Omar again and said: “For me, control is the opposite of love.  Love is accepting whoever you love as they’re, appreciating our differences and forgiving the imperfection. When you try to change everything to be as you believe it should be, you don’t love anything except yourself. People who try to change the world, can’t love. If they love it, they wouldn’t try to change it. Conditional love would disappear when its condition disappears. You love whom you love, not because they are beautiful, generous, or nice. You just love them even if they desert you.”

I thought he would understand why I loved him, but he took the teacher position again and said: “Sometimes, we try to change the world to make it better, and change whom we love for their own sake, not for us. It is like a father who tries to raise his kids, a teacher who tries to teach his students a lesson, or a doctor who tries to treat his patients. If I tell my patients that I love you as you are, I will not be able to help them to get better.”

He seemed happy with this logical discussion about philosophical issues, but I tried to circumvent him when I said: “Guess what? Even though you never told me that you love me, I can feel your love behind every word you say and every action you do. Love is the strongest motivation behind all our actions. Without love, we won’t do anything. We won’t survive.”

• So, do we love to survive? 
• Why does the moon revolve around the earth? Why are the waves attracted to the beach? Why does the fruit go down to the one who wants to pick it? 
• I did not know you are a poet!

He had nodded and smiled before his last sentence. I laughed and said: “I’m not. I just meant that there’s no reason for love, because it is the reason for our life. If you don’t love medicine, you wouldn’t spend all this time studying and going to schools.”

• What you are talking about now, is called passion, not love. 
• Love motivates our life and gives us passion. So, we’re passionate when we love.
• Passion is a temporary thing, but love, as the idealists say, does not die. 
• Do you lose your passion to study sometimes?

He leaned against the couch, raised his eyebrows, pursed his lips then said: “Yes, of course I do, but I have to force myself because of my commitment. I will not change my career every time I get bored. We start everything with excitement, and then we lose our passion. We got bored. Boredom distracts us, especially when we face problems, crisis, fatigue, long familiarization, hard periods, difficult situations or conflicts. Of course, if we value what we are doing, we will insist and not give up easily. We would try to fix the problems and solve the conflicts.”

• Why can't you apply that to relationships?
• It needs a belief, and that is what I miss.
• You don’t believe I am good enough for you? You don’t see any value in our relationship?
• I believe you are good for me and I see many values in our relationship.
• Maybe just for now, but not when you’ll be a doctor here.
• Do you assume I am going to leave you?
• Maybe you’ll find someone better when you become a doctor here.
• Do you think I use you now?

I was looking down when he asked the last question. Quickly, I sat cross-legged and moved my body right to face him. “No, actually you still pay me your rent and food,” I furrowed my eyebrows while I continued: “I’m not talking about now. I ask you about the future. I think if you love me, you’ll be with me forever.”

• Talking about eternity frightens me.
• Why?
• “You cannot step into the same river twice”
• What does that mean?
• It means everything changes.
• Talking about change frightens me.
• What type of change frightens you?
• Losses.

He took my right hand, put it between his hands and then said: “Our life is just an enjoyment for a while. It is a series of changes. Are these changes losses or gains? Are they the end or a new beginning? That is depending on your perspective. It is the same change that happens to everybody, but people have different eyes to perceive it.” I moved the left side of my lips when I sighed: “I see all my changes as a loss.” My hand started to sweat between his hands. I pulled it and put it on my right thigh when he said: “Recognize the value of what you have now and appreciate it, so you will not regret its loss later.” 

At this point, I got tired of this exhausting conversation. I wished he just jumped to a conclusion about us. I pressed my lips forward when I asked: “So?” I thought he understood me, because he gave up his attitude as a teacher. Silently, he had kept staring at me with a wide smile and brightened eyes for a while before he held my arms and pulled me slowly to his chest. I stayed in his embrace waiting for him to say anything, until he finally whispered: “Why do we ask this road to which destiny it takes us? We just walk together, and that is enough. Enjoy our relationship now. We are together now, and that is enough. Do not let your worry about the future distract you from our current happiness. Who knows what will happen in the future? Maybe there will not even be a future to worry about.”

·         So, you don’t plan for the future!

·         I take from life what is offered to me. If you want God to laugh, tell him your plan.

·         If our relationship isn’t love, what’s it? Friends with benefits? 

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose. By any other name would smell as sweet." He smiled and continued “Why are you looking for a label? You do not need to confine your life in a box, to compare it to others’ lives. Everyone is different and unique.”

I did not know what I should say. So, I said “Okay” and kissed his right cheek before I went upstairs wondering: How can he give me the sense of love if he doesn't love me? How can you give something you do not have? Love is an emotion, not a word. Some men tell their wives “I love you” all the time, before they hang up the phone or before they leave the house to cheat with other women. Omar gives me the emotion. So, why do I care about the words? Does the emotion confirm the word or does the word confirm the emotion?

After Omar had passed his tests, he started his residency in the same hospital where I was taken in shackles. I told him “I hate this hospital” but I did not tell him why. I used to get the mail and he did not know the difference between junk mail and personal mail. So, he depended on me to give him his mail and throw away the junk. He got offers to attend many medical conferences all over the United States but he ignored them. I encouraged him to attend them and said “It will be very good on your resume.” He agreed on the condition that I go with him. When I agreed, he gave me his credit card to book a hotel room and two airline tickets. My happiest days in my life were when we, together, flew to Boston and stayed at a fancy suite at the Sheraton. It was like a honeymoon. We rented a car from the airport. He was not comfortable driving there. So, I took him from the hotel to the conference and then returned later to pick him up. I tried to avoid meeting his colleagues. I thought he would be ashamed of me, but he surprised me when he introduced me to one of them as “my partner.”

When Omar was moving from one stage to another, I asked myself: “Will this stage be the crossroads for us? Or will we be together again?” After his residency, a medical group in Kansas City offered him one of their offices for his use as an internal medicine doctor, but he did not leave me. Rather, he asked me to manage his office. I was scared because I did not want to mess up his professional life. I felt if I caused any problem in his job, I would lose him in our personal life. I told him about my mistake that caused me to be fired from the bank. However, he insisted and said “If I am scared to make any mistake, I will never leave my bed. Look! I cannot trust anyone more than you, and I do not think anyone can understand me better than you. Do not worry. There will be a nurse to help me. You will be involved in administrative and financial issues, not medical at all.”  He took me to the mall to buy new clothes for him and me. It was the first time for me to buy clothes not from thrift stores. 

Managing Omar’s office was a big fear for me but it turned out to be the best thing in my life, for two reasons. The first reason is that it built my self-confidence and gave me a sense of success and accomplishment. I developed and managed budgets, created schedules, hired nurses and dealt with the insurance companies. Everything was at the beginning and everyone started at the same time. So, I did not feel bad about all the things I did not know and needed to learn. The second reason is that I finally became confident about my personal relationship with Omar since I was managing his life at both home and work. However, you will not get hurt until you feel secure.

Last month, he disappeared every evening after the clinic and did not come home until late, falling into bed the moment he returned. He said: “I visited some friends I knew from the mosque.” I believed him until one night he didn't come home and his cell phone was silent as usual. I stayed awake beside the phone thinking about all worse case scenarios…, assault, heart attack or a car accident. I know how bad he drives. When the sun’s rays knocked my window, I ran to the clinic to open it early. When the nurse came, she noticed that I seemed different that day. She asked me: "Is there something wrong?" but I denied.

Omar came at his normal time and passed me while saying: “Good morning” as if nothing happened. I did not reply but followed him to his office. I had a strange mixture of feelings. I was happy to see him in one piece, but I was angry because he ignored me. Once I closed the door of his office, he said: “Remember! We should be professional here. Let’s talk when we get home.” I had stared at his face silently and angrily for a while before I left his office and went back to my desk. I hated to wait but I did. I looked at my watch almost every five minutes. I hated this day and I wished it was running faster. He left before me. I stepped through the front door into the living room where he was sitting on the couch and looking at his cell phone. I pointed at him, shaking my finger and yelling: “I was worried about you all night and couldn’t sleep but you didn't care. Am I nothing to think about? Why couldn’t you at least text me?” 

I think he prepared himself for this meeting because he looked at me quietly. When he started to speak, he looked down and ignored my questions to jump to what he wanted to say: “I fell in love.” 

I fell on the seat beside the couch with the words falling from my mouth: “With who?” This scenario was beyond all of my thoughts. He did not respond and I continued “So, the friends you spend every evening with, were this witch?”   

“Yes,” he whispered.   

“Liar,” I shouted.   

“Yes, I lied, but I cannot continue lying,” he said.   

I wished he had continued to lie and not wake me up from my beautiful dream. “I thought you don’t believe in love,” I said.   

·         Yes, I did not, until it happened.  

·         What did you find in her better than me?  

·         It is not a choice to choose what is better.  

·         Now, what?  

·         I have to move out.  

"Do you mean to move with her?" I asked but he ignored my question. So, I grabbed his keys from the coffee table between us and threw them towards the wall. Furiously, I stood in front of him and started to punch his shoulder repeatedly. He rose and stood in front of me and tried to hold my arms but he put his hands down when I screamed "Don’t touch me!"  

When I came to this point of my story, I was stuck and couldn't continue confiding as Mrs. Lori was listening to me and taking notes without interrupting me. I cried and my nose got stuffy. 

She put her pen down and pushed her tissue box toward me. “Are you still working in his clinic?”  She asked after I had wiped my tears and blown my nose.  

“No! After that day, I stayed in my house crying all the time,” I continued, “I didn’t want to see anyone. I couldn’t go to the clinic until they sent me a letter telling me that I am fired and I need to pick up my stuff from my desk. I couldn’t go. So, I called the nurse and I asked her if she would bring them to me.”  

·         Did you look for another job? 

·         No. 

·         Why? 

·         Why do I start something when I know I will end in failure?  

Mrs. Lori left her paper on the desk and came over to sit in the seat next to me. “That is our life.” She crossed her legs and continued, “We are born to die, but if our parents thought like you, they would not birth us. Life does not develop in one ascending way. Rather, it develops through continuing attempts and failures... victories and defeats... mistakes and forgiveness... some steps ahead and a few steps back. So, there is no such perfect life.”  

“All my attempts ended in failure.” I sighed and smirked. 

“It is not true,” she continued “There is no such thing as wasted effort. Every time we fail, we learn a new strategy and acquire a new skill. It is a natural law. Think about what you learned from your experience with Omar.”  

“It was a failed relationship,” I said, shrugging my shoulders and throwing my hands like open palms in the air. 

“What is the difference between successful and failure experiences… between real and fake relationships?” she asked. 

I had thought for a while before I squinted, moved my head left and said “Continuous? I think a relationship is successful if it continues.” 

“It's your personal perception.” She continued, “Everyone has a different perception, but there is no fact here. There is no real scale or standard here. There are many failed relationships that continue because they are fake. On the other hand, you can find many successful relationships that ended because they were real and honest.” 

“Do you think my relationship with Omar was successful?” I asked, surprised. 

“Nobody has the right to classify your relationships,” she responded. “What I try to do is to encourage you to look at the same issue from different views. For example, your relationship with Omar filled what each one of you needed at that time. For him, he was a foreigner here with no family or friends, and you helped him adapt to American culture. For you, you lost your self-esteem because of controlling people and their judgmental ways, and Omar helped you build your self-confidence.” 

I crossed my ankles, slightly opened my mouth and looked up to my right. The table lamp was spotting the light on her paper. I remembered that my life is in these papers. I paused before asking: “So, why did our relationship end?”

“Maybe, the relationship was drained of its purposes because your needs are filled,” she replied. 

“I finally found someone to accept me as I am and doesn’t want to change me. I’m not ready to lose him yet. It breaks my heart,” I said.

Mrs. Lori left her seat and went back to her desk. She looked at the bookshelves, picked a book, and then sat down. She flipped the pages until came to a page and then handed the opened book to me. “Would you like to read this poem?” she asked. I looked at the cover. It was (The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran) I started to read louder the page she opened.

“Love one another, but make not a bond of love:

Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.”

I kept reading silently until I came to this line "Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.” I closed the book and asked Mrs. Lori: “What’s your point?”

“The attachment,” she continued, “You will not survive if you find your purpose in anyone or anything outside of you. If you hang your purpose on others' peg, your purpose will fall off when their peg will fall off. That is why I talked about freedom at the beginning of our session. Let’s now talk about the future, not the past… about you, not Omar. I neither know nor work for him. Can you plan for your life without Omar?”

“I don’t know,” I replied while putting the book on the desk.

“It seems like we, the humans, are too selfish to love others or even hate them,” she continued “We just love ourselves with others who bring out the best of us, and we hate ourselves with others who bring out the worst of us. What did Omar bring out of you to love yourself with him?”

“Like what?” I asked, confused.

“Like being a good manager,” she said.

I looked at her paper again and thought for a while before I said: “Yes, he told me that many times.”

“Why do you not use this skill in another job?” She asked while her eyes surrounded me. I looked left at the floor. The carpet was light blue with navy blue lines. “I guess I can use it,” I said while nodding. 

She smiled victoriously and wrote in her paper while saying: “Good! So, our session concluded with a plan to look for a job?”

 “Yes,” I sighed.

When I started my van, I realized that I needed gas. There were many gas stations between Mrs. Lori’s office and my house, but I went to the gas station that was across the street from Omar's clinic. After I had filled up, I sat in my van for a while looking at his car in front of the building. 

Once I entered my house, I went directly to my laptop to update my old resume. When I looked for clinic manager open positions in greater Kansas City, I was surprised to find that all these positions required a bachelor’s degree. The only job that has the degree as preferred not required, was a dental office coordinator. I applied for this job.

A few days later, the dental office called me to set a time for the interview. On the day of the interview, I felt like I was going to meet Omar. I took a shower and brushed my teeth, as I used to do with him. I wore the outfit he bought for me two years ago. It was a black pantsuit with a plain white long sleeve and a high neck blouse. I passed by his clinic while driving and stopped to look at his car. At the interview, they told me that they called Omar’s clinic and he gave them very good reviews about me. They offered me the job on the same day and I accepted. On my way back home, I thought about calling Omar or going to his clinic to thank him for his positive reference, but I did not. I did not even pass by his clinic. I remembered when I complained about Jack, Omar told me “Your past is like the rearview mirror of your car, you look at it to make sure of your way forward only when you change your lane". I was driving in the middle lane of I-70 when I realized that I needed to take the next exit for my house. I looked at my rearview mirror. There was no car behind me. So, I moved to the right lane.

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[1]  Juliet in Balcony scene in Shakespeare's play "Romeo and Juliet"