Hope & Other Dangerous Pursuits Read Online Free PDF

who walked back and forth on the beach. He’d paid for the cones and handed one to Salma and one to Nadir, but when he’d turned around to give Noura hers, he realized she’d vanished. They’d looked for her for hours. He remembered his face burning in the sun, the vein at the base of his neck throbbing with fear and worry, his feet swelling from walking on the sand. He remembered the tears that continued to stream down Salma’s face as they searched the beach. Eventually an old woman brought the disoriented toddler to the police station. Noura had gone to collect seashells, and it took the old woman a while to realize that the girl who had sat quietly on the rocks was alone.
    He’d promised himself then never to lose sight of her, but the terror he felt that day came rushing in, and the weight of it made him sit down in his chair, his head in his hands.
    Moments later, Larbi heard Noura’s footsteps in the corridor. He could see her in front of the mirror, her freckled face turned to the light coming from the living room, placing a scarf on her head, tying it under her chin so that her hair was fully covered. Before he could think about what he was doing, he lunged at her and took off the scarf. Noura let out a cry. Salma stood up at the dining table but didn’t come to her daughter’s rescue.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” Noura cried.
    â€œYou’re not going out like that.” Larbi threw the scarf on the floor.
    â€œYou can’t stop me!”
    Larbi didn’t say anything. He knew that she was right, of course, that he couldn’t keep her under lock and key just because she wanted to dress like half the city’s female population. Noura picked up her scarf and quietly resumed tying it on her head. She said her good-byes and left. Larbi turned to look at his wife, whose face displayed the same stunned expression as when Noura had first spoken.
    O N THE FIRST NIGHT of Ramadan, Salma took out her best china and set the table herself. She had sent the maid home to celebrate with her own family. One by one, she brought forth the dishes they had prepared that day: harira soup with lamb, beghrir smothered with honey, sesame shebbakiya, dates stuffed with marzipan, and a tray of assorted nuts. Larbi called out to Noura that it was time to eat, then sat down to await the adhan of the muezzin, the moment when day became dusk, the fast would end, and they could eat. At last, Noura poked her head in and stood listlessly at the entrance of the dining room. Larbi looked at her beautiful hair, its loose curls reaching her chest. It was a reminder of what she had chosen to do.
    The TV announcer came on to say that the sun was setting; the call for prayer resonated immediately after. Salma gestured to Noura. “Sit, so we can eat.”
    â€œI’ll only break the fast with water. I’ll eat after I’ve done the maghrib prayer.”
    Salma glanced at Larbi. “Fine,” he said.
    Noura added, “We’re supposed to have frugal meals during Ramadan, not this orgy of food.” She pointed to the festive table her mother had prepared.
    Larbi felt his appetite melt away. Instead, he craved a cigaretteand a stiff drink. Preferably Scotch. Of course, there wasn’t a place in the city that would sell alcohol for another twenty-nine days. He swallowed with difficulty. It was going to be a long Ramadan. “We’ll wait for you,” he said.
    Noura turned to leave, but then turned back. “Well, maybe just a little bit of shebbakiya,” she said. She took a healthy bite out of the candy.
    â€œDidn’t you say this was too much food?” Salma asked.
    The family ate without talking. In years past, this first night had been special; friends and family would sit around the table, sharing stories of their fast and enjoying their meal, but there had been too much on Larbi’s mind lately to think about inviting anyone.
    I T WAS YET another