CHAPTER TEN
“Hello my darling!” Jay pulled Zu towards him with a self-assured arm around her back and planted a kiss firmly on her lips. Zu radiated happiness as she threw her arms around Jay’s neck, clutching curls of hair as they kissed. She noticed something behind Jay’s back.
“What’s that Jay? Something for me? ..How sweet!” Zu almost hopped with excitement and clapped her hands in anticipation.
“No.. It’s actually for your mother” Jay pulled a dozen red roses in fullest bloom from behind his back “I hope she likes roses?”
“I’m sure she does” Zu feigned disappointment “But red roses.. they symbolise undying love!”
“Really?.. I didn’t know that.. I just took the nicest ones I could find”
“And the cheapest?”
“Well.. there was that too… anyway.. I didn’t get you any because you have hay fever my darling” Jay pecked Zu on the cheek.
“Hmm.. I’ll let you off this time” Zu led Jay by the hand into the lounge “Come on Jay.. They’re all dying to see you!”
Jay met Mimi in the doorway and gave her the customary peck on either side of the cheek.
“Hi Mimi.. How are you?”
“Fine thanks Jay.. and you?” Mimi held Jay by his upper arms so she could get a good look at him in the light.
“Good.. good.. Oh.. err.. these are for you” Jay gave Mimi the flowers.
“Thank you Jay.. They are beautiful!” Mimi savoured the fragrance of the roses “I’d better put these in some water.. Zul? Will you help me please? We’d better get started on dinner too” Zu and Mimi departed to the kitchen.
Habib shook Jay’s hand firmly and bid him heartily welcome with a large bear-hug. Omar sat on the sofa, totally immersed in a game on his pad computer, whilst Sharif looked somewhat menacingly towards Jay. Jay stepped towards Sharif, holding out his hand.
“So.. you must be Sharif?”
Rather than receiving Jay’s outstretched hand, Sharif demonstratively rose up from the sofa to size Jay up. Sharif was a good five to six centimetres shorter than Jay but about the same build – sporty without too much ‘machismo’ as Jay often put it. Sharif shook Jay’s hand with a hold worthy of a boa constrictor. Jay knew that it was going to be taxing but he could not let Sharif dominate him. This would be the ‘make or break’ test which would colour their relationship from now on and in to the future.
Sharif had surprisingly light coloured eyes, maybe blue, maybe grey and short cropped hair with a thicker tuft at the top. He wore black, almost military style, trousers with lots of pockets and a tight designer t-shirt.
“Yes.. I am Sharif”
Sharif’s voice was deep but, surprisingly, not as rough as Jay had anticipated. This hinted perhaps to the fact that he wasn’t as rugged as he wanted people to think.
“Pleased to meet you Sharif” Jay waited for a likewise response, but none came. Sharif plonked himself down on the sofa again and continued to watch Arabic TV. Jay shuffled himself rather awkwardly sideways in order to say hi to Omar who fleetingly looked up, said hello, and then looked down at his pad again. Jay offered a hand to Omar but ended up squeezing Omar’s shoulder instead, not wishing to disturb Omar’s game.
The atmosphere was heavier than the last time Jay had been there. Habib picked up on Jay’s dilemma and offered him a cup of coffee. Jay accepted politely and sat down in an armchair.
“So.. what do you do Sharif?” asked Jay awkwardly.
Sharif’s eyes turned away from the television towards Jay, showing a distinct lack of interest in having any form of dialogue.
“Software development” Sharif turned back to watch television.
“Really?.. That’s what I do.. or rather.. that’s what I used to do” There was no reaction from Sharif; his eyes remained glued to the screen.
“Which programming languages do you use?” continued Jay.
Sharif looked over at Jay again, looking very impatient. Jay began to appreciate the phrase ‘if looks could kill’.
“Dot net.. C sharp.. Java.. PHP.. those sorts of things”
“Any Visual Basic? Cobol? RPG?” Jay tried desperately to ‘bond’.
“No.. I work with Internet applications.. not mainframe”
“Oh.. right.. Yes.. you can probably tell that I’m from the ‘old’ world with my list of archaic languages” Jay scanned Sharif’s face for chinks in his armour. Sharif was unrelenting and remained steadfastly absorbed in the TV program.
Habib placed Jay’s coffee on the table in front him, complete with milk and biscuits.
“Vaersgo”
“Thanks.. What did you say they are called?” asked Jay
“No!..” Habib laughed loudly “..Vaersgo is Danish.. it means ‘please’.. or ‘please help yourself’”
Sharif rattled off to his father in Arabic, sounding somewhat aggressive. Habib replied calmly in English.
“Sharif.. I am proud of my albeit limited knowledge of the Danish language.. So I will carry on using it.. Besides.. you two were talking about languages.. so why can’t I?” Habib turned to look at Jay “You know Jay.. I never get to use Danish any more.. it’s a bit of a shame given the fact that we spent so much time learning it” Habib looked over towards the sofa “And boys.. please remember.. when we have English speaking guests here it is only polite that we all speak English”
Habib reminded Jay of one of his mother’s uncles; warm but resolute.
“Oh so sluucker vee for fyarnsoonet” Habib pointed the remote at the TV and switched it off. Sharif reacted immediately.
“I was watching that! And how can you say we should speak English when you spend half your time speaking Danish?!”
“I apologise Sharif.. You are right.. That was very hypocritical of me and I promise I will not to do it again..” Habib maintained his permanent smile “..At least not today.. Anyway.. you can watch that later.. they are all repeats!” Habib turned to look at Jay “Has Zul told you anything about our little stop-over in Denmark Jay?”
“Yes.. a little” Jay put his cup down on the table and picked up a biscuit.
“You know.. there are things I really miss about Denmark?”
“Like the price of cars you mean?” joked Jay.
“Ah..No!.. No.. definitely not that.. But I miss the more relaxed working environment.. not that I ever got the opportunity to do any work over there.. but things were more relaxed than they are here”
“No they weren’t! ..You’ve forgotten what it was like!” Sharif snatched a biscuit up from the plate as he stood up to make his point.
“Maybe.. but on the other hand.. and using the same logic.. I should also miss Iraq.. but I don’t”
“So what do you miss?.. The constant xenophobia and racism?.. No-one wanted us there.. And how could you forget that you.. a highly trained heart surgeon.. couldn’t even find work?..” Sharif was red in the face as he swung his arms round, underpinning his views with angry hand and arm movements “..And how could you miss a place where the government actively steals children from their fathers.. Where hierarchy and nepotism means everything.. but true loyalty means nothing at all?” Sharif glanced over to Jay “..In a queue of traffic.. they will never let you out.. and they definitely won’t thank you if you let them in!” Sharif turned back to Habib, the veins in his forehead and neck standing out like a map to his enraged brain “..And all the shops cheat you constantly.. selling you crap at highly inflated prices.. which is usually well past it’s sell-by date.. A place where husbands cheat on wives and wives cheat on husbands.. especially at Christmas parties where it’s almost expected!.. A place where family values consist of looking after number one and the norm is to have yours, mine and our children being ferried backwards and forwards between so-called happily separated parents on a daily basis.. But no-one complains.. oh no.. because all of this has become an intrinsic part of Danish values..” Sharif spoke more quietly, almost solemnly as he sat down again “How could you miss that?”
Omar
made his way out of the room, still playing as he walked.
“Well.. I know you had a bit of a hard time Sharif.. but it wasn’t all bad.. Remember the times we spent at the beach.. at Mosgore and Saksil?.. Those long warm evenings huddled around a fire eating shish kebabs and listening to music?”
“Yes.. yes of course I remember those.. but it still doesn’t make up for the fact that we were treated like prisoners.. like second class citizens”
“But what if they hadn’t allowed us to come in to Denmark at all Sharif?.. Where would we be now?.. Dead?”
“To be honest.. there were times when I really thought that death would’ve been a better option.. better than being held captive as the ever grateful second class foreigner at least”
“You can’t mean that Sharif?.. Really?” Habib stared at Sharif, waiting for confirmation, but Sharif just looked down at the coffee table, immersed in his own thoughts. Habib looked over to Jay “Sorry Jay.. All these discussions can’t be very interesting for you” Habib dunked a biscuit in his coffee cup “So Jay.. tell us about yourself.. Zul says you work in a bank.. right?”
“Yes.. that’s right.. I work in IT security in a bank.. but I haven’t always done that.. I used to be a software developer.. a bit like Sharif.. only on older systems”
“So IT security is a move on.. a step up the ladder?”
“Not exactly.. I was forced to move.. but it’s actually turned out alright”
“Why forced?”
Jay blushed slightly “Well.. it’s like this.. I had a terrible boss.. He just wanted to get rid of me basically.. by any means.. But I put it down to a lack of chemistry.. we never got on really.. On top of that he was always abusing his power and position so I just stopped.. well.. I stopped trying to keep him happy.. and then I got moved”
“Sorry to hear that Jay.. You had a similar case didn’t you Sharif?”
“Yeah.. with Alan Jonson.. He was a complete arsehole!”
“Sharif! Mind your language!” Habib wagged his index finger from side to side.
“Jonson and his business partner were like TweedleDum and TweedleDummer” Sharif turned to face Jay “..Get this.. They had me doing the same job as all the other systems administrators.. but I only got half the salary!.. And whenever anything went wrong it was always my fault.. even if it was a system Jonson had implemented himself!.. It was impossible to please him.. He was a horrible fat, arrogant and extremely ugly little man.. the likes of which should never be allowed to have children!”
“Sharif! Really!” Habib couldn’t help laughing quietly to himself as he wiggled his bottom in place in the chair.
“I mean it” added Sharif more softly, allowing himself a little smirk too.
“I’d better go and see how the girls are getting on in the kitchen.. Sharif.. maybe you could tell Jay about your work?” Habib disappeared into the kitchen. Sharif slid immediately across the sofa and faced Jay head-on. He spoke quietly but adamantly.
“Listen Jay.. You might be an ok guy.. I don’t know.. Whatever.. But I will tell this” Sharif raised his index finger “If you ever harm my little sister.. I will kill you.. ok?”
Jay was unprepared but not totally surprised by Sharif’s pledge. He did think it strange, however, that Sharif had asked if it was ok. What if he said no? Jay waited a suitable number of seconds before replying. He even pondered the option of not saying anything at all.
“I can understand that Sharif.. and ..do you know what?” Jay leant slightly forward, making direct eye contact with Sharif “I would do the same if anyone ever harmed her”.
Jay’s display of self-confidence had even surprised him as the two sat, sizing each other up like two fighters in a ring. After several minutes of intensive staring, Jay decided that the situation had become a little too awkward. He decided to go the bathroom and kill some time there. Jay stood up slowly and self-assuredly and made his way out of the lounge. The toilet door in the hallway was locked but Jay decided to wait anyway rather than returning to the lounge alone.
“Hi Jamey!.. I think my dad’s in there..” Zu nodded towards the toilet door and kissed Jay on the cheek “..You might want to go upstairs to be honest.. he could be in there for hours” Zu held her nose between her fingers as she smiled and walked on.
“Ok.. Thanks for the tip Zu” Jay patted Zu on her bottom and headed upstairs.
“Oh.. and Jay? We’ll be eating soon.. Will you be a sweetheart and bring Omar down with you?”
Jay stared into the bathroom mirror, wondering how things would end with Sharif and whether the conflict would affect his relationship with Zu. He washed his hands and made his way over to Omar’s bedroom. The door stood open.
“Alright Omar?”
“Yes.. I’m alright” Omar was absorbed in a computer game.
“Your sister says we’re going to eat soon”
“Ok”
“Hey.. is that a remote control helicopter you’ve got there?” Jay noticed a black plastic construction of what looked like four small ventilation fans stuck together to form a square.
“Yeah.. it’s called a quadcopter.. but it doesn’t work” Omar continued building his electronic universe with virtual bricks.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Dunno.. Batteries I think.. It won’t charge”
“Isn’t it still under guarantee?”
“Dunno”
“Well.. how old is it?”
“About two years I’d guess”
“Hmm.. That’s a pity.. the guarantee will have run out then.. Can I take a look at it?
“Sure” Omar was visibly pleased with the thought that someone might actually be able to fix it.
Jay picked up the quadcopter and examined the charger for any visible signs of damage. “I always wanted one of these.. and all I ever got was a cheap radio controlled plane.. And that lasted exactly thirty seconds before it hit a tree and got smashed to bits.. Well.. to be honest.. I actually flew it into the tree”
Omar laughed as he packed his pad away and climbed down off the bed. Jay carried on inspecting the quadcopter.
“Omar?.. Seeing as how I can’t seem to find the cause of the problem.. is it ok if I take it home with me and look at it later?.. I promise I won’t damage it”
“Yeah.. sure”
Omar and Jay descended the stairs together. Jay placed the quadcopter and charger on a stool by a small telephone table in the hallway.
“What you got there?” asked Zu as she had crept up behind Jay and tickled his ribs. Jay jumped in surprise.
“Are you trying to give me a heart attack my darling?..” Jay turned to protect himself from Zu’s tickling hands “..It’s Omar’s heli.. err.. quadcopter.. I’m going to try and fix it for him”
“Aww.. that’s sweet of you Jay..” Zu clenched Jay’s hand and swung it back and forth “..Thank you for doing that..” Zu turned in the direction of the dining room and pulled Jay with her “..Come on!.. we’ve got to eat now.. Dinner is served!”.
The others were already in the dining room, seated on high-backed chairs on either side of a large, highly polished dining table. The table would probably be regal enough for Buckingham Palace Jay thought. He noticed the intricacy of the wooden inlays forming a large floral motif in the middle. It was undoubtedly very expensive; the type of craftsmanship that took a lot of time and effort. Jay’s dad had taught him that whilst showing him how to make a small card table when he was a child. His father spent hours finding the right types of wood, in differing sizes. He carved the pieces by hand so that they would fit precisely into each other. He would then sand everything off by hand and French-polish the entire surface. His dad was a perfectionist, but claimed himself that he merely had ‘an eye for detail’. He had little respect for the time that things took – he just did it, come what may. Jay’s hand ran across the top of the dining room table, instinctively feeling for any bumps or irregularities. There were none of course. The surface was as smooth as marble, and wort
hy of his father’s approval.
“Do you like it Jay?” Habib’s face lit up at the prospect of someone admiring the table “Mimi bought it”
“Yes! Yes.. I do.. It’s beautiful” Jay sat down beside Zu.
“We got it cheap.. on the Internet” winked Habib.
“Well.. cheaper is probably more accurate to say..” interrupted Mimi “..You’d be surprised how us women can bargain.. As long as they don’t try to bargain with me on my web site”
“You have a web site?” asked Jay.
“Yes.. it’s just a small online business.. We sell scarves and stuff from the middle east.. It does ok.. Now, enough of all that.. let’s eat!” Mimi picked up her knife and pointed it towards one of the dishes “This is a very simple.. and quite traditional dish called Yellow Spice-Rubbed chicken.. There is traditional flatbread and Tadic rice to go with it.. The rice isn’t Iraqi I have to say.. I got the recipe from an Iranian friend of mine and fell in love with it!”
“Mmm.. it looks and smells delicious” Jay filled his glass with water from a jug “But I thought Iraqis and Iranians didn’t get on?” Jay turned to Zu and held her glass up.
“Water?” Zu nodded and Jay poured.
“The women do.. especially when it comes to food, clothes, shoes, children and men” Mimi smiled to Habib, who was already eating.
“My hairdresser.. no.. that’s not what they’re called..” Habib lay down his knife and fork for a moment whilst he tried to find the right word ”.. my barber is Iranian.. I just don’t tell him I’m Iraqi.. just in case he turns out to be the Iranian version of the Barber of Seville” Habib laughed and began eating again. Zu and Mimi served for the others.
“You have to excuse my husband Jay.. Waiting is not his strongest feature as you can see” Mimi squinted her eyes accusingly towards Habib before turning her head to face Jay again “Zul has made an Iraqi salad.. Here.. please.. help yourself!”
“Thank you.. thank you.. This is just ..wonderful!” Jay detected cumin, coriander and curry powder amongst other not so familiar smells. They merged with chicken, rice and garlic, all vying for aromatic attention as they wafted thickly through the air. The rice looked familiar until Zu fished a solidified yellow clump up from the bottom of the bowl.
“That’s the Tadic.. It tastes really good!” Zu positioned the Tadic symmetrically on a plate together with some pieces of chicken and a chunk of flat bread and handed it to Jay “There you are sweety.. Bon appetite!”
“Thank you darling.. Bon appetite to you too.. or what would you say in Iraqi?”
“Arabic.. it’s called Iraqi Arabic..” Zu placed a reassuring hand on Jay’s “..But you’d probably say ‘bilhana washifa’ which means something like ‘may you enjoy your meal in happiness and wealth’”
“That’s nice.. It makes ‘bon appetit’ seem somewhat boring in comparison!” Jay fed some more food into his mouth “Mmm, this tastes every bit as good as it looks.. and smells.. My compliments to the cooks!”
“Thank you Jay” replied Mimi contentedly. She had always had a penchant for people who liked her family or her food. But she liked Jay anyway. He made Zu happy and he seemed to be very sweet.
“So.. Jay.. what are your plans for the future?” Mimi rested her elbows on the table as if she were about to start an interrogation.
“Oh.. erm.. I don’t really know.. Do you mean in terms of work?”
“Well.. yes.. that too.. But I was thinking more on a personal level”
Jay felt a cold shiver of trepidation rush through his spine. The hour of reckoning had arrived. He would now have to explain what his intentions were towards Zu.
“Well,. I want to earn lots of money.. but who doesn’t?..” Jay laughed nervously as he looked around the table for a reaction. There was none, just sober faces clinging on to Jay’s every word. Jay could feel himself start to blush “..I’d also like to.. um.. I’d like to ideally.. but not necessarily.. erm.. buy a house.. a little outside of London”
“Why outside of London?” asked Zu with an element of worry in her voice.
Jay became even more flustered as he fought to think of what might be the right thing to say “Well.. I’d like to have children.. And I don’t think London is a very good place to bring children up”
“Really? Why not?” Zu and Mimi’s voices overlapped each other.
Jay sensed that the topic was perhaps a little too dangerous and opted to modify his statement instead.
“Well.. err.. I think London is a little too big and maybe a little too dangerous.. but I don’t want to move that far out.. London is after all where all the jobs are.. and I still want to work here.. I’d just like to be in the suburbs.. you know.. where the grass is greener? Well.. to be honest.. anywhere where there actually is some grass!” Jay laughed nervously.
“You are right Jay!” laughed Habib.
“Well.. I’m banking on working in London when I get to that stage” Zu looked a little more relaxed as she carried on eating.
“How many children?” Mimi’s thirst for facts had obviously not been quenched.
“Err.. I don’t know.. Two?..” Jay looked over to Zu for help but found it impossible to read her facial expression “..Maybe three..”
“So.. you like kids then?” Mimi continued.
“Yes.. yes.. I do.. Actually..if I’m honest.. I’ve wanted kids since I was about nineteen”
“So you’ve waited what.. seven years?.. You must be really ready for them now then?” Jay detected a hint of playful sarcasm in Mimi’s voice.
“Well.. no.. I’m not desperate.. I’m just saying.. err..”
“Mimi my dear!.. What’s with the Spanish Inquisition?.. Let the poor chap eat in peace” interjected Habib, jumping to Jay’s defence.
“I wouldn’t have kids if I was you..” added Sharif “..It’s not like having a pet”
“I know.. which is why I’ve waited” replied Jay.
“Sharif has had some nasty experiences in this area” added Zu.
Mimi picked up on Jay’s bewildered look.
“Sharif has a son in Denmark.. It’s all a bit complicated and very sad.. He misses him terribly”
“I’m sorry to hear that.. Don’t you get to see him?” asked Jay.
“No.. not really.. Only once a year when I go to Denmark.. and even then it’s under supervision.. His mother got custody”
“I’m sorry to hear that.. Why was that.. if you don’t mind me asking?”
Sharif could see Jay was showing genuine interest.
“Ok.. the story is.. I met this girl.. she got pregnant.. I moved in with her.. She gave birth to my son..” Sharif looked down as his eyes began to water “..I kissed Kasper so much that my lips became numb ..And six months later she decided to move to Copenhagen.. It turned out she was seeing someone else..” Sharif sat upright and drank some water “..It takes four hours to get to Copenhagen from where we lived.. On top of that the ‘Statsforvaltning’ ..the governmental department which is supposed to look after children’s needs.. refused to do anything.. She took him away from me.. and forced me to pay her for the privilege whilst she drank and smoked her life away!.. All with the government’s backing.. I had no say whatsoever.. no rights.. nothing.. Not only was I a man.. I was a foreigner.. the lowest of the low!”
“That’s awful!”
“And what is even worse.. is that the wonderful ‘Statsforvaltning’ insisted on me paying the child support money directly to her.. I wasn’t even allowed to buy clothes or toys for Kasper.. no.. no.. all the money had to go straight to her.. and I knew she didn’t use all the money on him.. And for all I know this other guy could be a drug addict!.. Yes.. what a wonderful ‘welfare state’.. where nobody gives a damn about the interests of the children ..only the interests of the bureaucrats!”
“This was actually the straw that broke the camel’s back.. so to speak..” added Habib, almost in a whisper “..We decided to move to the UK given the fact that Kasper was so far away from
us anyway.. and his mother wasn’t making it easy for Sharif to see him..” Habib sat up and began speaking more clearly ”..But all that is in the past now.. Sharif has a good job.. I have a good job.. Mimi is doing well with her web shop.. Omar goes to a good school and Zu goes to a good university.. We have nothing to complain about really.. even if America was our first choice..” Habib let out a loud laugh and then turned to Jay “..But the Americans wouldn’t give us a green card.. Just don’t tell the British government that they were second choice!”
“I won’t” smiled Jay.
“So tell me Jay..” continued Habib “..What do you do in your spare time?.. Do you have any hobbies”
“Jay plays guitar!” interjected Zu.
“Err.. yes..” Jay dabbed his lips on a napkin “..Yeah.. I have to admit I do… but very badly.. I’m entirely self-taught”
“Maybe you could give us a song Jay?.. Can you play any Beatles numbers.. or Abba?” asked Habib excitedly.
“Well.. maybe.. If you have a guitar?.. but I’m afraid you will be disappointed” Jay hoped that they wouldn’t suddenly produce a guitar as he didn’t actually know any Beatles or Abba numbers anyway, and he doubted if Gary Moore would go down well with them.
“I’m sure you are just being modest Jay!..” Zu squeezed Jay’s hand “..But no, we don’t have any instruments here.. You’ll have to bring your guitar with you some time”
Mimi served ‘Um Ali’ for dessert; an Iraqi recipe consisting of puff pastry topped with pistachio nuts, lemon, cream and spices. This made the perfect accompaniment in Jay’s mind to the main course, even though it contained cinnamon - a spice Jay never had been particularly fond of.
“We’ll have to make a move Zu” Jay pointed to his mobile phone.
“Yeah.. Let’s clear the table and go”
Mimi, Zu and Jay carried everything out to the kitchen. Habib was already busy scraping leftovers into the bin whilst Sharif loaded things into the dishwasher. Mimi ushered Zu and Jay quickly out of the kitchen again so that they wouldn’t miss the film. Jay thanked them for their hospitality, picked up Omar’s quadcopter and charger, said goodbye to everyone individually and walked together with Zu out of the front door.