Where is Manar? 2: "Sorry, Ma'am — This Body Is Not for Rent"
Chapter Thirteen: The Weight of Knowing
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I woke up. The same ceiling. The same fan. The same room.
I reached for my phone. It was twenty to four.
I felt it.
It was in the room again.
I didn't see it… but I knew it was there.
It was like that feeling you get when you realize you're not alone in your room.
No… not like it.
I actually felt it now.
The growling that used to fill the corners of the room had turned into a quiet hiss. And I felt the cold of its breath touching my neck. It wasn't the cold of ice… it was the cold of nothingness. The void that comes before something catastrophic happens.
It was a wolf…
Not like the one on the stairs.
No… this one was real.
"Tsk."
I saw its shadow through the light of my phone. Darkness moving behind me… preparing to pounce. I sighed. I was tired of this feeling. I reached my hand toward it.
"Take a bite…"
Then…
I blacked out.
---
I woke up again.
Not to music. Not to my mother's voice. Not even to Professor Charles's screaming.
To blood.
My nose was bleeding again. The third time this week. I put my finger under it, looked at the red smear, then looked at the ceiling.
"Thank you, Cow. Thank you very much."
The ceiling didn't answer. Of course not. The Cow doesn't answer in the morning. She has clear working hours — only at night, like a government employee, but backwards.
Twenty to four.
"Excellent. Even my insomnia has a schedule now."
Since that night… after my call with Maytham… my conversation with Emma… and my phone burning up… my dreams had started to change.
A week? More? I don't know. Time itself seemed to have started taking something heavy.
I got up slowly. The slowness of someone who knows that moving fast will make him see stars. I washed my face. Looked at the small mirror above the sink. My face. Tired. Red nose. The eyes of someone who hasn't slept enough in a week.
"Sami," I said to my reflection, "you look great."
The reflection didn't believe me.
I went down the stairs. The hallway was dark. My parents' door: closed. Manar and Alaa's door: closed.
Everyone asleep, like normal human beings.
"Lucky them."
I went to the fridge, took out some food for Donkey, then went out to the street.
Donkey was in his usual spot. Sitting at the end of the alley like he owned the property.
"Good morning."
He looked at me. His tail wagged once. His tone said: You're late.
"I had a nosebleed."
I put the food in front of him and sat on the curb. The asphalt was cold at this hour. He ate quietly while I stared into the empty alley.
"You know, Donkey… there's an entity living in my body trying to control my mind. Its name is As'as. A cow. She got in by mistake. I don't want her… and she doesn't want me… and yet we're in a long-term relationship."
Donkey raised his head and looked at me.
"Yes, Donkey — at least I have food."
And you… you have inner peace.
He went back to eating.
"The problem isn't As'as. The problem is that tomorrow morning my mother will ask me: 'Sami, why is your face yellow?' And I'll say: 'I'm a little tired.' And she'll say: 'You're not eating well.' And Alaa will answer from his room without anyone asking: 'Bet he stays up late playing on his phone.' And he'll laugh. And my father will lift his newspaper and pretend he didn't hear, because he heard and doesn't want to get involved."
I stopped.
"And that… that's harder than As'as. At least As'as knows what's going on."
Donkey finished eating. He wiped his mouth on the asphalt and put his head on my knee. I stayed still. My hand on his head. My eyes on the empty alley.
"Look at me, Donkey — I'm talking to a dog… and I feel like the conversation is deep."
I sighed.
I stood up suddenly. I didn't know why. Maybe because sitting too long creates thoughts I don't like.
"Come."
I walked. He followed. His footsteps were light on the asphalt. A stray dog following a man who doesn't know where he's going.
---
I got home at quarter to five.
Professor Charles was in the hallway. He looked at me with his glassy eyes that said: Again? Another dog? Isn't there enough crazy people in this house already?
"Don't start."
He walked away with dignity.
I went up to my room. Lonely was in his corner. He blinked once when I entered.
"Good morning."
He blinked again. Meaning: I saw.
"Saw what?"
A third blink. This one meant: Everything.
"God help us."
I sat on the floor, back against the bed. Donkey came in behind me and stood in the middle of the room, sniffing everything like a detective. He sniffed Lonely's corner. He sniffed the corner where Maytham sleeps. He sniffed my pillow.
"Relax. There's no crime here."
He looked at me.
"Or maybe there is. But it's not the kind you investigate."
He lay down beside me. His head on my thigh.
"You know, Donkey," I whispered, "I've started being afraid of sleep. Not because nightmares are scary. Nightmares make sense. What's scary is that I no longer know where the dream ends and reality begins."
Donkey raised his left ear. Listening.
"Maybe I'm dreaming right now. Maybe you're not here. Maybe all this… is imagination. Maybe I'm asleep right now, and Professor Charles is panting beside me and Lonely is judging me with his eyes, and this is all a movie playing on my closed eyelids."
I lifted my hand from his head. Looked at my palm. Lines. Scars. Dirt under my nails.
"But even if it's a dream," I said, "at least you eat the meat. And that's enough."
He wagged his tail, then stood, turned, and sat in the middle of the room. Exactly where that huge black thing sits at night.
"You look like him," I said. "The one who sits here every night. You have the same calm. The same patience."
Donkey tilted his head to the right.
"But the difference is — you eat the meat I put out for you. He doesn't eat anything. Just sits. Watches. Breathes."
Suddenly, I noticed the corner where the fan doesn't reach. The corner where Lonely usually sits. But Lonely wasn't there.
"Where is he?" I whispered.
Donkey looked at the corner. Then at me. Then he put his head between his paws. My heart jumped stupidly.
"No. No. Don't do that. Don't tell me he hasn't been real all these months. Don't tell me that a philosopher gecko in the corner of my room was… was…"
I didn't finish. Donkey didn't say anything. Of course not. He's a dog.
But his look said: And what if he wasn't real? What if Lonely was just imagination? Would that change anything? Wasn't he a good friend anyway?
I stood up. Walked to the corner. Touched the wall.
Cold. Dry. Nothing.
"Lonely?"
Silence.
"Lonely, I'm not joking. Come out."
Silence.
"I'll bring you a bug. A fat one. Just show up."
Silence.
I sat on the floor, my back against the wall. My hands were shaking. I didn't know why. It's just a gecko. A tiny gray gecko that had lived in the corner of my room for months. Sometimes he disappeared for days, then came back.
But this time…
"Maybe he went out hunting," I said to Donkey. "Yes. Out hunting. He'll come back. He always comes back."
Donkey didn't move. He was still sitting in the middle of the room, eyes fixed on me.
"Don't look at me like that."
He didn't change his look.
"I'm not crazy…"
I stopped.
"I just… handle strange things very calmly. And that in itself is worrying."
I stood up and walked to the window. Opened it. The night air rushed in. Cold. Damp. The smell of Basra at night is different. As if the city sleeps and breathes things it doesn't say during the day.
"You know what the problem is?" I said without turning to him. "The problem is that I've started to believe all this is real. The book. As'as. That wolf… the Black Thing. Lonely. You. All this… I've started to believe it's real. And that's madness. Because whoever believes a gecko in their corner is a philosopher whose eyes judge them… that person is crazy."
I turned to him.
"But whoever doesn't believe that… whoever says Lonely is just an ordinary gecko… that person is a traitor."
Donkey got up. Walked toward me slowly and put his head on my feet. I looked at him.
"What do I do, Donkey?"
He raised his eyes to me. There was something in them. Not an answer. Not advice. Just presence. Just that a stray dog in Basra stands beside you at four in the morning, asks for nothing, promises nothing. Just that he's here.
I bent down and put my hand on his head.
"Tsk."
I went back to my spot on the floor. Lay on my back. Donkey sat beside me, his head on my stomach. I looked at the ceiling. The silent fan. The curtain. Lonely's empty corner.
"If Lonely comes back," I whispered, "I'll buy him a bug. A fat one. I'll put it in his corner and tell him: 'This is your covenant. Take it, and don't leave the room again without telling me.'"
Donkey sighed. A deep breath that made my stomach rise.
"And if he doesn't come back?" I asked.
Silence.
"If he doesn't come back… I'll leave the corner empty. And I'll tell people: 'Here lived the greatest philosopher in Basra… who paid no rent… and vanishes when trouble comes.'"
I laughed. A small, dry laugh. But a laugh.
"Or maybe he went out to buy cigarettes. Yes. Out for cigarettes. He'll come back. He always comes back."
I closed my eyes.
In the darkness behind my eyelids, I felt Donkey lift his head from my stomach. Felt him move. Heard his light footsteps on the floor. Then, nothing.
I opened my eyes.
The room was empty. Donkey wasn't here. How did he leave? The door was closed. The window was open, but it's on the first floor.
I sat up quickly. My heart beating stupidly.
"Donkey?"
Nothing.
"Donkey, this is a bad joke."
Nothing.
I stood up and walked to the door. Opened it. The hallway was empty. The Eagle (Wolf) statue was in its place. The stairs. The kitchen. Nothing. The front door was locked from inside.
I went back to the room slowly. I stood in the middle of it, breathing hard.
Then I saw him.
In Lonely's corner. Sitting. Looking at me with his small eyes. The tip of his tail moving slowly.
"Lonely!"
He didn't move. Just watched. His eyes said: Where's the bug you promised me?
I laughed. A big, stupid, loud laugh.
"You were here the whole time?"
His eyes: Of course. Where were you?
I sat on the floor, back against the wall, facing Lonely.
"You little devil," I said. "You disappear to make me go crazy."
Lonely blinked once. Slowly. As if to say: You were crazy before you met me.
"True," I whispered. "True."
I looked at Lonely's corner. At the corner where that huge Black Thing sat every night. At the corner where Donkey slept before he disappeared.
Then I went back to my spot on the floor and lay down, eyes on the ceiling.
"Lonely,"
He looked at me.
"Do you think Donkey is real?"
Silence. Then he moved. He crawled slowly along the wall until he reached a spot close to my head. Stopped. Looked down at me.
His eyes said: Do you think I'm real?
I studied him for a long time.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "But you're here. And that's enough."
Lonely didn't move. Stayed there, near my head, guarding me with his emerald eyes.
I closed my eyes.
"Tomorrow," I whispered, "I'll buy you a bug. A fat one. Put it in your corner. And put a piece of meat for Donkey in his spot. And put a can of tuna for Professor Charles."
A small laugh.
"And for that huge Black Thing… I'll leave the door open. If it wants to sit, let it sit. But it doesn't cause trouble. This is my room. I'm the landlord."
I opened my eyes for a moment. Lonely was still there, his eyes glittering in the dark.
"Are you the landlord too?" I asked. "No. You're just a gecko. But you're a special gecko."
I closed my eyes.
"Tsk."
---
At seven, I heard my mother in the kitchen. The clatter of pots. The smell of tea rising from below.
Then Alaa's voice: Mom, where's my pencil case?
"I don't know. I'm looking in the guest room."
Alaa replied: "It's Professor Charles. He stole it again."
And Manar's voice from her room: No, Pwofethor.
"Liar, it's definitely him," Alaa shouted.
"Come on, kids. It's morning. You'll find it later." Mom cut off the argument.
I looked at the ceiling.
That sound. That specific sound. The sound of a house with people in it. The sound of a morning argument about pencils. The sound of Mom arbitrating. The sound of Manar denying without enough evidence. The sound of Alaa not believing her.
This sound was stronger than all the cows in the world.
I said it in my head. I didn't say it to Donkey. Some things you don't even say to a dog.
---
"Sami!"
My mother's voice from below.
"Ah."
"Come eat breakfast."
"Coming."
I looked at Lonely. Coming?
He blinked: I'm fine here.
"Lucky."
I touched my nose. "Tsk. Blood again."
I washed and went down the stairs. The Eagle (Wolf) statue was in its place as usual. I patted its head…
It dodged my hand?
Am I imagining…
Or did the eagle statue move its head?
Or maybe I just misjudged.
Doesn't matter. Even if you don't like being petted, you're getting petted. That's the law of this house.
I patted its head and continued.
The kitchen. Mom in her chair. Dad reading the newspaper. Manar eating, her eyes on the Professor. Alaa searching the drawers for his pencil case.
"Morning, everyone."
I sat next to Manar, gave her a few kisses, and patted the Professor's belly.
Mom looked at me. "Your face is yellow."
"The lighting."
"Lighting doesn't make faces yellow."
"This one does."
Alaa came over. "Stay up late?"
I didn't answer. He wasn't an important factor.
"Mom, I found it behind the drawers. It was the Professor, just as I suspected," he changed the subject.
"No, not Pwofethor," Manar replied angrily.
"Right, sweetheart, the Professor doesn't use pencils. He's being falsely accused." I said, kissing her.
Dad turned a page of the newspaper. Didn't say anything. But he heard. He always hears.
Alaa looked at me. I gave him a threatening look — back off. He knew he could handle one of us, but if me and Manar teamed up…
Meow. The Professor said, as if to say Don't forget me.
Yes, if the three of us teamed up, he couldn't resist. So he retreated. Tsk. Coward.
I ate. The tea was warm. Bread with cheese, as usual. Mom put in front of me enough for three people.
"Just this."
"Eat."
"I already ate."
"You didn't eat enough. Look at your face."
Manar looked at me again. A different look this time. I felt a coldness in my neck pass quickly.
"Thami — notebook."
She pointed behind me. Her look wasn't joking.
I looked back. Nothing. But this time I didn't mock. Manar was the only sane one in my crazy world.
"Yes, it's a notebook for animals. Cows use it." I tried to make her laugh.
But she didn't laugh. After a while, she went back to feeding the Professor.
I finished eating.
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— End of Chapter Thirteen —