Asunder Chapter 43

Chapter 9.1 (43)

The Man in Reverse

America

“Chin up. Consider yourself lucky, child. Your bones breathe blood and grow. Your skin is warmed by that very same blood. You are a gift from your God. Enjoy the fruits of his labor. For I am as foregone as the rocks that line these hills, and you have a spirit that can replenish the earth for generations and more.” - NVR-791 “Programmed Nurturer”

- 274 years before the present day -

- The year 2014 -

- Age 4 -

Azar walked hand in hand with his mother, Aida, as they followed his father through the airport. The excitement of the circumstances rose within. At only four years old, he had little concern for what happened around him in the adult world. All he cared for were cartoons and toy cars. The extent of his knowledge about why they came to the airport centered around what his parents told him: they were going to America.

The same America filled their television screens at home—the large country with its tall buildings, green grass, and fast food. His parents informed him they were going to America to see some of his family and to give him a better opportunity for education. The televisions in the airport told a different story.

In his home of Cairo, Egypt, protestors died in the streets. Hundreds of people were being convicted and put to death by the new president and his regime. His parents’ worried expressions didn’t help ease the facade they wanted him to believe. He knew, even at four years old, these were dangerous times.

As they walked through the throngs of people, his father spoke on the phone in broken English to the person on the other line. Azar understood bits and pieces, as he had watched many English-speaking cartoons, and so had some understanding of the language.

“Yes, sir, everything is in order. We leave Cairo in three hours. Our first layover is in Rome, and then New York City. We will arrive at the Dulles Airport tomorrow around 12:45 your time.”

The voice on the other end sounded jovial and caused a smile to cross his father’s face.

“Oh yes, we appreciate your help, sir. Thank you again, and we will see you soon.”

They tried to make their way through airport security quickly, but his father underwent extensive scrutiny by multiple airport agents when pressed about the reason for their travel. As they finally approached the gate, his father looked around quickly as though he were waiting for someone or something. Ever since they left their home that morning, his father had acted extremely nervous and constantly looked over his shoulder. The ticket counter had no line, so the young family approached, eager to board the plane to their new home. Azar peered out the large windows as he held his mother’s hand, taking in the sight of large and small planes taking off and landing.

A gruff voice echoed as they neared the counter, pulling Azar’s eyes away from the spectacular flight machines. The source of the voice bellowed from a male flight attendant who bore an enormous mustache and mumbled incoherently on the phone. The man glanced at them suspiciously. Standing beside him appeared a younger male attendant with a stern face, who observed the family closely with fierce, squinted eyes. The section of the airport where they stood was nearly empty. It appeared not many people were taking the same flight as them.

“Hello…” his father started but was rudely cut off mid-sentence as the mustached man lifted a finger and turned the phone deeper into his neck. Nearly spinning all the way around to finish his conversation, he purposefully disregarded the family.

“Yes, sir, I will, sir,” was all Azar could hear the man mumble into the phone. Finally, the man hung up the line and turned his attention toward Azar’s father.

“How can I help you?” The man spoke sharply. The other younger attendant stood behind the counter, arms tucked behind his back, looking around the airport suspiciously.

“Our… our tickets did not print at check-in, and it told us to see the agent at the counter…” his father spoke nervously.

“What is your reason for traveling?” The burly man questioned harshly.

There it was again. Someone asked his father why they were traveling.

Azar spoke up, “We are going to…” but stopped short as his mother quickly hushed him.

Both the attendants turned their focus to Azar.

“Where are you going?” The man looked menacingly at Azar.

Suddenly, a fear washed over Azar, one he had not processed before. Nothing about this trip was for fun or an adventure. His parents were clearly worried and felt the need to stay quiet, and now so did Azar, as the man specifically questioned him.

“We are going to Rome to see our cousin.” His mother cut in.

The man looked up from Azar and then to his mother.

“I did not ask you, woman, I asked the child. You will know your place here and not speak unless I ask you to.”

Azar could see his father grab his wife by the hand and squeeze it. The mustached man turned his attention back to Azar.

“Where did you say you were going…” he looked down at the passport Azar’s father had handed him, “Balthazar?” The man looked back up at Azar, but at this point, the fierceness in the man scared Azar, and he began to cry. His mother took him under her arm and comforted him.

“It’s okay, baby.” She whispered.

The man scoffed and disgustedly muttered while shaking his head, “Children.”

The man refocused his attention on Azar’s father.

“Why are you going to Rome?” The man asked again, more forcefully this time around.

“Like I said, sir, we are going to visit our cousin, Moussa El-Sadat.” His father spoke with more courage now.

The man looked down at the passports, then glanced at his computer screen.

“It says here you worked for Hamdeen Sabahi. Is this true?”

Trickles of sweat began dripping down his father’s temple. By then, Azar’s crying had slowed to a whimper and trickle, and his mother’s breathing had increased dramatically. The world seemed to spin around the family, and America seemed farther and farther away with each passing moment.

Azar’s father worked for the man the attendant mentioned. This affiliation apparently did not sit well with the two men before them.

“Hmmm, it looks like this flight is full. I’m sorry, Mr. Gutien.” The man spoke with a corrupt glint in his eye. “It appears the next flight isn’t until tomorrow.”

The words sank deep into Azar’s soul. By the way the conversation was going and the posturing of his parents’ bodies, he knew going to America would not be in their future.

“Meanwhile, we will just keep you and your family here until other… arrangements… can be made.” The man grinned, and the other man stepped forward menacingly.

At this moment, something suddenly took the men’s attention from the family. It was the sound of fast-paced high heels clicking across the floor toward the small group at the counter. Azar’s family followed the eyes of the men, turning and meeting the image of a young woman in a black suit with long black trousers—something Azar did not often see in his country. She wore the customary hijab but defied norms with her crimson lipstick. In contrast to her mahogany skin, her green eyes flickered brightly and remained directed at the two men at the counter. Both airport agents stiffened at the sight of the woman.

“Gentlemen,” the woman sharply spoke as she approached.

“Ms. Haidar!” The men spoke in unison. “What a pleasant surprise!”

“What is going on here?” She questioned, gesturing to the family.

The woman looked down at Azar, and he thought he almost saw her wink at him. The man who had been interrogating them started to sweat from his temple.

“This family, umm…” the man stuttered.

“Doesn’t have the correct documentation,” the second man who had yet to speak piped up.

“Well, let me take a look,” the woman chirped. Azar could see the first man quickly press a few keys on his keyboard as he fumbled to hand the documents to the woman. The screen darkened as its illumination no longer gleamed off his badge. The woman scanned the documents and then looked up at the two men.

“It all looks in working order,” she glanced at her watch, then spoke up again. “Why are you wasting these people’s time? The gate closes in five minutes, and they are about to miss this flight because of your incompetence!”

The thin, squinty-eyed man looked at the ground while the first man stumbled and stuttered.

“Sss… sorry, ma’am. Yes, right away.” The burly agent hurriedly logged back into his computer, rapidly typed on the keyboard, and clicked the mouse. The woman stood there with her arms folded, tapping her foot. Within seconds, they had printed new tickets, all with first-class seating. The man distributed the tickets to the family and profusely apologized. The woman glared at the two men.

“I think you both better take the day off… no, in fact, take the whole week off. I don’t want to see your faces here until next Friday, and by then, you had better learn proper respect for paying customers!”

They both stood there speechless.

“But, the flight, ma’am, it needs an attendant.”

The woman raised her eyebrows. It was all the men needed. They quickly left their post and walked into the distance, looking back several times. The woman turned to the family and, clasping her hands, smiled.

“Well, that was an unfortunate interaction now, wasn’t it?”

Azar’s dad stuttered, “Thank you, miss.”

“Oh, no problem at all. I’m so sorry those brutes were in any way involved with your travels. I assure you from here on out. It will be smooth sailing.”

She kneeled and looked at Azar square in the eyes. “Now you must be Balthazar?”

Azar’s jaw dropped, and his eyes widened.

“How’d you know my name?”

The woman laughed, “Well, first off, I looked at your passport, haha, and second, I heard you are an extraordinary boy. Is this true?”

This complimentary question made Azar blush and kick the ground.

“Here, I want you to have something,” she unclipped a brooch inlaid with a small blue stone surrounded by silver wings and horns. She then pinned it to Azar’s shirt.

“You think you can hold on to it for me?” She side-grinned a questioning smile and raised her eyebrows.

Azar’s eyes grew large again as he stretched his neck, reaching his chin to his chest to examine the treasure.

“You betcha,” Azar responded.

“Good, I knew I could trust you,” she ruffled his hair and stood back up facing Azar’s parents.

“Now we need to get you all on this flight, shouldn’t we?”

Azar’s parents stood there in wonder, taking in this savior of a woman.

“Ma’am,” Azar’s father said hesitantly. “Ma’am, who are you?”

“Oh yes! How rude of me!” she dusted her hands and then pressed one forward, shaking each of their hands. “My name is Maryam Fadel Haidar, and I am the Crew Control Manager for this airline. And since we are now short an attendant, I will be your in-flight attendant for the service of this flight!”

She grabbed Azar by the hand and motioned for the family to enter the walkway. Azar’s mother kept turning back and looking at the woman as they walked through the hallway toward the plane. As they reached the jet's door, Azar’s mother turned to the woman and hugged her. Tears ran down her cheeks.

“Thank you, Maryam, thank you so very much.”

The young woman melted and took the hug in as though she had not received one in eons. After a long moment, the woman grabbed his mother by the shoulders and whispered.

“Of course, Aida, it is my pleasure.”

With this, they entered the plane and took their first-class seats. This was Azar’s first time on an airplane, and he felt the butterflies in his stomach fluttering as the aircraft moved onto the runway. His mother held his hand as the inertia forced him back further into his seat on takeoff. The engines roared, and even at the age of four, he felt a release of tension as though the woman had washed all their worries away like the rain falling from the clouds over Cairo into the Nile. His father and mother melted into each other's arms as they peered out the window, smiles illuminating their faces. America was waiting for them.

§

After multiple layovers, plane travel had lost its glamour, and Azar dreamed of sleeping in his soft bed. He dreamed of his routine back at home. The excitement about America became dulled by the stale food and the extremely long flight in an uncomfortable chair. But the itch to be in America rekindled as they flew over Connecticut approaching the JFK airport. His father had him look out the window at the vast greenery spread into the horizon. The sight of the brilliant green adorning the earth below astonished Azar. He had never seen so much green in his life. Even the Nile's fullest bloom could never match the sheer brilliance of the vegetation before them.

Azar’s energy had returned as they exited the aircraft and entered the airport. With the help of Maryam, they eventually found their way to the luggage area. Everyone in the airport looked so different from what Azar was used to. He saw women everywhere without hijabs. Hair colors ranged from blonde to purple. Men passed by, speaking English quickly into their cellphones. It was just like the movies. Everyone appeared fast-paced and dressed diversely. He knew he was going to like America already.

His father looked along the luggage carousel, and his mother quietly spoke to Maryam when they heard a voice call out.

“Karim!”

His father looked around frantically.

“Karim Gutien! Is that you!?”

They all turned to see a man walking steadily toward them. He stood an entire head-length taller than Azar’s father, with long white hair flowing down the back of his head. The man squinted gleaming blue eyes and smiled behind a long white mustache drooping down each side of his mouth.

His father’s eyes lit up as he recognized the voice. It was the man with the cheerful tone his father spoke with over the phone in the Cairo airport. The voice matched the face perfectly, making Azar smile as well. Turning to his wife and Maryam and speaking their native tongue, his father introduced the man, “Aida, this is the man who has helped us find the flights and get room and board here!”

His mother spoke in broken English, “Thank you, sir. We are so happy you help us.”

“Oh, no problem at all there, Ms. Aida. I reckon y’all needed a nice, warm welcome to the good ol’ U.S. of A!” The man continued warmly.

Interestingly, the man eyed Maryam and winked, “Maryam.” he acknowledged and nodded.

“Sir,” Maryam acknowledged in return, smiling and nodding.

Focusing back on the family, the man spoke excitedly, “I apologize for my intrusion on y’all. I just got excited when I saw ya. Let me formally introduce myself,” the man stuck his hand out to Azar’s mother, which she took delicately and shyly.

“The name is Jeremiah… Jeremiah Colroy Jenkins.”