When Hamid takes a balloon ride at the Eid picnic, an accident throws all his beliefs into doubt.

[This is part 1 of a two-part story. Part 1 is here]

Do Not Desert One Another

Turning his back on Ali, Hamid gripped the top of the basket wall and looked out over the park. A smile crept over his face as they rose, and as the park began to shrink beneath them.

“The kids miss you,” Ali said. “They ask about you.”

These words tugged at Hamid’s heart. He missed them too. But there was nothing to be done. Ignore him, he told himself. He could see up and down the river now. Beyond it were miles of rice fields, and orange groves beyond that. It was stunning. His stomach was still grumbling, and he pressed into it with the heel of his palm, willing it to behave.

“We’re all the family we have,” Ali persisted. “It’s just you and me.” Blessedly, Ali left the rest unsaid. That their parents had died when they were both nineteen, and they had no other siblings. And most of their uncles and aunts were still in Afghanistan, except for a few who had migrated to Iran. Hamid avoided thinking about all that.

Hamid turned to face Ali. His nostrils flared. “No, you have a wife and kids. I have no one. You saw to that.”

“All the more reason to stay close to us. The Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said, ‘Do not desert one another, do not nurse hatred towards one another, do not be jealous of one another, and become as fellow brothers and servants of Allah. It is not lawful for a Muslim to stop talking to his brother for more than three days.’”

“Doesn’t apply. You’re not my brother. You betrayed me. Brothers don’t do that.”

A Volcano Awakens

Ali exhaled loudly. “I didn’t betray you. You weren’t involved with Hala. You weren’t engaged; you weren’t even talking to her. Am I right?”

“You knew I was in love with her.” Hamid heard his own voice rising even as the balloon continued to climb higher in the sky. He couldn’t seem to stop it. He was a shy, quiet man who buried himself in books and research. He didn’t shout or fight. But he knew himself. Deep down, he had a terrible, fiery anger. It was a dormant volcano, and it woke rarely and slowly. But when it did, it could tear his life apart like Krakatoa. Now it was awake, and he felt the lava rising.

“You stole her,” Hamid said.

“This is ridiculous.” Ali waved his hand dismissively, as if shooing away a street urchin. “There’s no talking to you.”

“Guys,” Jean cut in. “This stops now. This is NOT the place. You’re closer to God up here, so act like it. Be quiet, face away from each other and enjoy the view.”

Hamid heard her the same way he heard the wind that rushed past the balloon at this altitude. It was mere noise. “Tell me why you did it,” he insisted. “That’s all. Tell me why you took the life I should have had. Why you robbed me of my happiness. Were you jealous because I had better grades in school? Is that why you took Hala from me?”

Ali’s face flushed deep red. “How dare you! That’s my wife you’re talking about. Have some shame! La hawla wa la quwwata illah billah.” He stepped forward and jabbed a finger into Hamid’s chest. “I don’t want to hear her name come out of your stupid mouth.”

The volcano erupted. Hamid felt his face grow hot, even as his vision narrowed. He seized Ali’s shirt in both hands and began screaming curse words. He didn’t even know what he was saying. He was operating on a level of pure rage, with no rational thought whatsoever.

Over the Edge

“Stop this!” Jean shouted. “Think about where you are!” She took a step forward to separate the brothers physically, but it was too late. Still gripping Ali’s shirt, Hamid pressed forward with all his weight, driving Ali backward. He had no objective in mind. The volcano was in pure lava eruption mode, and Hamid was a puppet of his own fury as surely as if he were a jinn dancing to the commands of Iblis.

Stumbling backward, Ali seized a handful of Hamid’s curly hair in one hand, while his other hand shot out, seeking something – anything – to hold himself up. His face registered sheer terror, no doubt at the prospect of being pushed out of the balloon basket, and plummeting to his death.

What Ali’s hand found was the burner cord. He seized it as he fell, all his bodyweight pulling it down. There was a loud roar as the burner released a large amount of fuel, sending a huge tongue of flame into the envelope. The balloon leaped upward. Ali lost his grip on the burner cord and fell flat on his back in the basket, throwing his hands out to break his fall.

Hamid had been pressing forward into Ali. When Ali suddenly fell, Hamid stumbled forward into the basket wall. It was only as high as his sternum, and with his forward momentum, he tumbled right over the edge.

He saw the world spread out before him like heaven’s forecourt, all green and blue. His hands flew out, but there was nothing to hold. For an instant, time seemed to freeze. Hamid had read about this, how the brain sped up at the moment of death, so that subjectively, time came to a standstill. He was about to die. He saw the crowd of Eid-goers below, their faces tiny ovals peering up, and he heard their collective scream as they saw him go over the edge. He only prayed he did not fall on someone. That would compound his sin to the Nth degree.

What a fool he was. His native country, Afghanistan, was suffering under the weight of so many problems. But his people were, mostly, farmers, and he was an agricultural specialist. He could have done some good for them, he could have helped, even if only in a small way. Besides that, he could have had a relationship with his brother, or at least with his niece and nephew. Instead his life would be wasted for nothing. Would Allah have mercy on him, even though he was the biggest fool in the world?

Time un-froze, and Hamid began to fall.

Struggle

A hand like iron seized his ankle, arresting his fall. Hanging upside down, he looked up. It was Jean. Her face was as white as if she had seen a jinn, but her hand locked onto his ankle like a vice. She must be incredibly strong, but there was no way she would be able to pull Hamid up. His body was lean, but he was tall and moderately muscular, and weighed over 180 pounds. He heard her screaming something but couldn’t understand a word. The wind rushed past his ears as he swayed back and forth. It was a miracle she was able to hold onto him, but soon her grip would fail.

La ilaha il-Allah, he breathed. Muhammadun Rasul-ullah. O Allah forgive my sins, have mercy on me, and admit me into Your Jannah. Forgive my temper and my hard heart. Forgive my hatred of my brother and my envy. I know I’m neither a good Muslim nor a good man, Ya Allah, but forgive me.

A second pair of hands grabbed his other leg. His brother. A moment later he felt himself being pulled up, incrementally, inch by inch. He tried to help by pushing against the basket with his hands, but it was probably no help at all. A critical moment came when his waist crossed over the edge of the basket wall. Jean and his brother gave a tremendous pull, and he tumbled back into the basket.

He lay there, gasping for breath, unable to believe that he was alive. Jean did not give him a moment, however. Her powerful hands hauled him up to a sitting position, with his back against the basket wall.

Just Sit There

“Are you okay?” the pilot demanded. Her hands probed up and down her legs, then at his sides. “Are you injured?”

“No,” Hamid gasped. “Just winded. Thank you so much, thank you.”

Jean slapped his face, hard. “You knucklehead! Lord have mercy.” She stood and glared back and forth between Hamid and Ali, who – Hamid realized then – was seated right beside him, also gasping for air. Her blue eyes blazed with anger.

“This balloon is governed by FAA regulations,” she went on. “You understand? What y’all just did up here? That’s a federal offense. Not some slap-on-the-wrist county fair nonsense. I’ve flown through thunderheads and dust storms. But I ain’t never seen anything as shameful as what y’all just pulled. I oughta have both of you arrested the second we hit the ground.”

She ran a hand through her silver hair. “Now stay there, hush up, and let me get this damn balloon back to earth. We are way too high.” She turned away, unclipped a radio from her belt and began talking to the ground crew while she worked the balloon controls.

Vindication

“You almost killed us both,” Ali said quietly.

Hamid glanced at his brother. Ali’s shirt was torn, and his cap was gone. Hamid opened his mouth to apologize, but what came out instead was,

“Just admit that you stole her. That’s all I want. I just want to hear the truth.”

Ali’s eyes flashed and his hands balled into fists, but only for an instant. The anger drained from his face, and he looked at the floor. “Yes,” he said. “I knew that you wanted her. You asked me what I thought of her. I had never really noticed her. I knew how shy you were, and that you would never talk to her on your own. So I went to talk to her on your behalf, to tell her of your interest.”

Hamid let out a deep, shaky breath. He felt he might cry. Just to hear the truth from his brother’s lips was such a vindication.

“I didn’t expect her to be so captivating,” Ali went on. “I found out she could speak three languages, could tell a good joke, and had been volunteering at the hospital, reading books to sick kids, since she was fifteen. I fell in love. Look, you had never even spoken to her. I… I justified it to myself. I told myself you wouldn’t care that much, that there were plenty of other women.”

“There are no other women,” Hamid said. “No one else is remotely interested in me. Women avoid me like smallpox, and you know why? Because Hala was the one meant for me. She was my qadar. You stole my life.”

Toxic

“Oh, stop it,” Jean said harshly. Hamid hadn’t realized she was following the conversation. “Do you have any idea how idiotic that is? What’s your name?”

Hamid pointed to himself. “Me? Hamid.”

“Hamid,” Jean repeated. “Let me tell you something. You might be the most visually striking man I’ve ever seen in my life. I seriously don’t know that I’ve ever seen a more handsome man. Even more than your brother. I mean, I can see that y’all are identical, but he’s a little too straight laced, while you got this whole Marlboro man thing going on, which is cute. You know why women avoid you? It’s not because your brother married your one true love, or any such treacly nonsense. Do you know why?”

“Uhh…” Hamid was still trying to process Jean’s comment about his appearance. “No. Why?”

“Because you’re a jerk. You got a chip on your shoulder the size of Texas. You’re bitter, angry, self-pitying and generally pathetic. I don’t care how handsome you are. Even if I was your age, and I met you, I wouldn’t touch you with a bee pole. You’re toxic.”

“And you,” she went on, pointing at Ali. “What’s your name?”

“Ali.”

“Ali. Tell him the whole truth about your wife. Go on.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your wife – Hala was it? Hamid here thinks she’s an angel. Flawless, like the Hope Diamond. That’s because he doesn’t know her the way you do. You need to disabuse him of that idiocy. Tell him the sordid details. I get that she’s your wife, but he needs to hear it.”

The Sordid Truth

Ali nodded slowly. “She, uhh… You won’t repeat this, right?”

“What?” Hamid said.

“She picks her nose. Right in front of me. It’s really disgusting.”

Hamid stared at his brother. “No way.”

“Yes. She doesn’t like to pray, I have to cajole her to do any salat whatsoever. We fight about it all the time. She’s a terrible cook.”

“What about the home cooked dishes you always send me on our birthday?”

“That you’ve never acknowledged or thanked me for? Catered. She leaves her dirty clothes on the bedroom floor, uses too much makeup, doesn’t throw out old food until it molds, her father is the biggest jerk you’ve ever met in your life, he calls me Tinker Bell because I don’t do any sports. Hala doesn’t always brush her teeth, so her breath stinks in the morning, she -”

“I think he gets the point,” Jean interrupted.

Hamid was shocked. “But…” he stammered. “Why do you love her then?”

“Some days I don’t know if I do. But then she tells me about someone she helped at the hospital. Or I come home from a hard day and she puts an arm around me and kisses my cheek. Or I see her down on the floor, playing with the kids, all of them happy. And I remember that this is the reality of love. It’s difficult, messy, and imperfect. But it’s also sweet. Ultimately it’s a choice.”

“Do you get it now, Hamid?” Jean said. She angled the burner slightly and pulled gently on the vent line. “You never loved the real Hala at all. You fell in love with a fiction you created. Real women are problematic. You have to be patient and kind. You have to let go of ego. And you know what? The world is full of real women, waiting for a good man to love them.”

Ali put a hand on Hamid’s shoulder. “Bakhana ghwaram warwara. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone after Hala. I did you wrong.”

“No…” Hamid breathed deeply, then let it out. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I’ve been so stupid. I’m starting to understand. So, so stupid.”

“Just never mention any of the things I told you,” Ali said. “Not a word. Or I’m a dead man.”

The Bargain

“Listen boys,” Jean said. “We’re almost down. The ground crew says the police are waiting to question you.”

“Oh my God,” Ali said. “I could lose my job.”

Hamid shrugged. “I understand, Miss Jean. I want you to know how grateful I am to you. You saved me, and I’ll never forget it. Not only that. You’re so patient and wise. You’ve changed my life. I’m so sorry for the trouble I caused.”

Jean’s eyes softened, and she sighed. “Listen. Maybe there’s a way I could avoid pressing charges.”

“How?” Ali said. “Anything.”

“I won’t be able to continue giving rides today. You’ve damaged my business and reputation. You cost me a lot of money.”

“Name your price.”

“Five thousand dollars.”

“Done.” Ali stood and extended his hand, and Jean shook it. “I can transfer it to you right now.”

“You know I can’t help, right?” Hamid said. “I could chip in two hundred dollars maybe.”

Ali waved. “Don’t worry about it.”

Hamid stood and saw that they had arrived at the ground, or several feet above it. A huge crowd was gathered all around, with several police officers at the front. Hala was there as well, with the kids. She looked stricken and pale.

Hamid descended the ladder on shaky legs. A man he did not know stepped forward and supported him. Ali went to his family, who embraced him. The strange thing was that Hamid wasn’t jealous. He didn’t look at Hala and see the most beautiful woman in the world, as he had for most of his life. Instead he saw an ordinary woman. He realized, incredibly, that he was happy for Ali. All his envy and anger were gone.

SubhanAllah.

Jean explained to the cops that they weren’t needed. It had been a simple case of vertigo. The passenger lost his balance and fell over the edge. The cops looked unconvinced, but they took a report and departed.

Judge People or Love Them

“Hamid,” Hala demanded. “Is that true? You lost your balance? It wasn’t… something else?”

Ali answered quickly. “That’s what it was. You know he can’t handle heights.”

Hala threw her hands out. “Then why did he go up in a balloon?”

“It was stupid of me,” Hamid admitted.

People pressed in around them, asking questions, or clapping Hamid on the back. He didn’t want to talk. He recovered his messenger bag, which had been heavily trampled. As he turned to leave, a strong hand gripped his shoulder. It was Jean. Hamid faced her, meeting her intense, still slightly angry gaze.

“One,” said the pilot with the iron hands. She held up a finger. “You can judge people, or you can love them. It’s hard to do both.” This statement hit Hamid like a bullet, and he rocked back on his heels. Suddenly his entire life, his opinions about people, his attitude toward his brother – everything – was cast into sharp relief.

“Two.” Jean held up a second finger. “When we judge others, we’re usually just judging ourselves.” A second bullet, fired into the heart of his insecurities about his own self-worth. “I gave you back your life today,” the pilot concluded. “Go and live it with love.”

Hamid nodded silently, and turned away. Together with Ali’s family he pushed his way through the crowd, and exited the park.

Generalizations

In the parking lot, Hamid and Ali embraced, then Hamid went down on one knee and hugged the kids.

Hala beamed. “This is wonderful to see. And all it took was you almost dying.”

Hamid stood. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say alhamdulillah,” Ali suggested.

“Alhamdulillah for everything.”

“By the way,” Hala said. “There’s something I’m not supposed to tell you, but I think you might like to know. Do you know Esin, my old friend from school?”

Hamid nodded. “Mm-hm.”

“She always asks about you. Are you still single, what’s your work, what are your hobbies, that kind of thing. I think if you were to talk to her father, it would not be unwelcome.”

Hamid frowned. “She asks about me?”

“Yes, why not?”

“I… I mean. That’s surprising. But I don’t want an Afghan girl. I want a convert.”

Hala raised an eyebrow. “Okay. But why?”

“Well… It’s just that the converts are sincere. Afghan girls are materialis -” He froze, realizing that he was doing it again. Judging people. SubhanAllah, Jean was right. His entire worldview was tainted from top to bottom.

“La hawla wa la quwwata illa billah,” Ali muttered. “Here we go again with the crazy assumptions and generalizations.”

Hamid waved his hands. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

Hala was visibly annoyed. “You know what? Esin has a law degree but she gave up corporate law to work as a public defender, because she cares about people. And I’ll tell you something about convert sisters. Many of them are amazing, but most of them are carrying baggage. And not just one suitcase. Whole steamer trunks.”

“What do you mean?”

“She means,” Ali broke in, “that people are people. This whole narrative you have going of, I can only love this person, I can’t love that person, these people are shallow, those people are angels – it’s all nonsense. Human beings don’t come in bunches like grapes. We’re all individuals.”

Hamid rubbed his forehead. “I have a lot to learn.”

Blueberries

“Where’s your car?” Ali asked.

“Out of commission. I took the bus.”

“We’ll take you home. Come on.”

Hamid took a step, and a wave of vertigo rocked him. It was just hitting him that if Jean’s reflexes had been a split second slower, he would be a pile of broken bones and splattered brain matter right now. Or he could just as easily have sent Ali over the edge, widowing Hala and leaving the children without a father. His vision grew gray, and he swayed on his feet. Ali leaped forward and caught him.

“You’re in shock,” Ali said. He helped Hamid to a green SUV and sat him on the bumper. “Let me get you some water.”

“It’s alright. I have something in my bag.” Opening it, Hamid took out the box of blueberries. They were half crushed and dripping juice, and had made a mess in the bag. He popped a few into his mouth, not caring. They were as sweet as a Mexican sunrise. The flavor burst on his tongue, confirming that he was indeed still alive. He ate more, his hands shaking.

“Those look disgusting,” Ali commented. “They’re smashed.”

“Good things are sometimes difficult, messy and imperfect,” Hamid said between bites. “But they’re still sweet. Your words, remember? Glorious and sweet and beautiful. I never thought I would eat anything again. I thought I was dead.” His lower lip trembled and he pressed a shaking, blueberry-stained hand to his eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Ali put an arm around Hamid’s shoulders. “Allah decrees and does what He wills. It wasn’t your time yet.”

Hamid nodded and held the blueberries out. “Eat some.”

“No, they’re gross.”

“Jean said I’m more handsome than you.”

Ali laughed. “Get in the car, bro. I think you’re going to be fine.”

THE END

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See the Story Index for Wael Abdelgawad’s other stories on this website.

Wael Abdelgawad’s novels – including Pieces of a Dream, The Repeaters and Zaid Karim Private Investigator – are available in ebook and print form on his author page at Amazon.com.

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