it to plod slowly toward the second-to-last hotel for some respite while Aaron works. Once this alley has been cleared, instead of heading to the Imperial Hotel, Lijah turns to Shareen, who’s curled up on a bag, half asleep in the back.
“Get off! The pony has to rest.”
“I’m tired. I’ve had enough,” she grumbles.
“Shareen, come on,” Aaron says.
Not wanting to provoke Lijah any further when his eyes are popping like that, Aaron’s at the side of the cart in record time, waiting for her to get down. The high-voltage sound of a police siren helps catapult her to the street. The cart swiftly pulls over, along with honking cars and taxis.
Everyone swings around to witness a convoy of police cars heading in their direction. Instinctively Aaron shoves his hands in his pockets, ready at any second to jettison the stolen bottles of perfume, but the police cars sweep past in clouds of dust, surrounding a black Audi, which is safely cocooned in the middle of the huge escort.
Shareen screws up her eyes toward the sun to catch sight of the passengers of the Audi as it speeds past, but the glossy black windows hide them. She wonders what it would feel like to be in the air-conditioned car instead of out here on the hot pavement. Crossing the busy street, she’s tired and fed up, but she can’t help smiling with delight when the Audi and its police convoy come around the roundabout to a sudden halt outside the dark, swinging doors beside them. She’s frozen by a rush of excitement when a young, good-looking man in a smart suit gets out of the back of the car, glances at her for a second, and jumps into the seat next to the chauffeur. He almost smiled.
Then the cavalcade continues on its way.
In the alley, as she helps Aaron by holding out the plastic bag for him to throw in beer and wine bottles, she imagines the man from the hotel is the son of a sheikh who’s fallen in love with her—a poor Zabbaleen girl. Imagining holding his hand and sitting beside him on the black leather seat as the car shoots away, she can’t help blushing when she thinks about what might have happened if he’d stopped to speak to her.
While Shareen invents, Aaron reflects. Swinging the clanking bags on the cart with hands stinking of beer, he pushes hair from his face to glance back at the glass doors of the Imperial Hotel. The smoky doors revolve as guests enter and leave the hotel, but the Virgin Mary is nowhere to be seen today. For a second his mind goes blank. A small voice inside his head doubts he ever saw her in the first place and his world shrinks with the thought that this road, these cars, that wide sky are all there really is to this hard, lonely life.
Back on the cart as they skirt the edge of the city, Aaron starts monitoring his stepbrother’s breathing. A couple of times it seems as if Lijah might push him into the road again, so staying alert is always on his mind. By the time the silence of Mokattam settles on them like old sheets, Lijah has calmed down, Shareen is a princess in love with a man she saw for only ten seconds, and Aaron’s lost in a vision he saw on the Imperial Hotel’s glass doors.
Once the chaos of the main road is left behind, the pony begins to stagger, gasping heavily and barely able to move in a straight line. Aaron and Shareen get down and walk slowly beside the cart as they enter the village. Aaron pats the pony’s drooping neck and hot ears, trying to calm himself by studying the tiny arrows of glass on the dusty ground that glitter in the sun.
Stumbling farther past a man bashing a broken cupboard to bits with a hammer, Aaron doesn’t notice the pony’s right knee buckling until the cart comes to a sharp stop. There’s a flapping sound, mixed with a strained creaking from the cart, as the pony sinks to the ground.
Aaron quickly unhooks the shaft and the bags topple, thumping and rolling off the sides as the pony shudders. Shareen jumps clear of the crashing bags in time to stand
“Get off! The pony has to rest.”
“I’m tired. I’ve had enough,” she grumbles.
“Shareen, come on,” Aaron says.
Not wanting to provoke Lijah any further when his eyes are popping like that, Aaron’s at the side of the cart in record time, waiting for her to get down. The high-voltage sound of a police siren helps catapult her to the street. The cart swiftly pulls over, along with honking cars and taxis.
Everyone swings around to witness a convoy of police cars heading in their direction. Instinctively Aaron shoves his hands in his pockets, ready at any second to jettison the stolen bottles of perfume, but the police cars sweep past in clouds of dust, surrounding a black Audi, which is safely cocooned in the middle of the huge escort.
Shareen screws up her eyes toward the sun to catch sight of the passengers of the Audi as it speeds past, but the glossy black windows hide them. She wonders what it would feel like to be in the air-conditioned car instead of out here on the hot pavement. Crossing the busy street, she’s tired and fed up, but she can’t help smiling with delight when the Audi and its police convoy come around the roundabout to a sudden halt outside the dark, swinging doors beside them. She’s frozen by a rush of excitement when a young, good-looking man in a smart suit gets out of the back of the car, glances at her for a second, and jumps into the seat next to the chauffeur. He almost smiled.
Then the cavalcade continues on its way.
In the alley, as she helps Aaron by holding out the plastic bag for him to throw in beer and wine bottles, she imagines the man from the hotel is the son of a sheikh who’s fallen in love with her—a poor Zabbaleen girl. Imagining holding his hand and sitting beside him on the black leather seat as the car shoots away, she can’t help blushing when she thinks about what might have happened if he’d stopped to speak to her.
While Shareen invents, Aaron reflects. Swinging the clanking bags on the cart with hands stinking of beer, he pushes hair from his face to glance back at the glass doors of the Imperial Hotel. The smoky doors revolve as guests enter and leave the hotel, but the Virgin Mary is nowhere to be seen today. For a second his mind goes blank. A small voice inside his head doubts he ever saw her in the first place and his world shrinks with the thought that this road, these cars, that wide sky are all there really is to this hard, lonely life.
Back on the cart as they skirt the edge of the city, Aaron starts monitoring his stepbrother’s breathing. A couple of times it seems as if Lijah might push him into the road again, so staying alert is always on his mind. By the time the silence of Mokattam settles on them like old sheets, Lijah has calmed down, Shareen is a princess in love with a man she saw for only ten seconds, and Aaron’s lost in a vision he saw on the Imperial Hotel’s glass doors.
Once the chaos of the main road is left behind, the pony begins to stagger, gasping heavily and barely able to move in a straight line. Aaron and Shareen get down and walk slowly beside the cart as they enter the village. Aaron pats the pony’s drooping neck and hot ears, trying to calm himself by studying the tiny arrows of glass on the dusty ground that glitter in the sun.
Stumbling farther past a man bashing a broken cupboard to bits with a hammer, Aaron doesn’t notice the pony’s right knee buckling until the cart comes to a sharp stop. There’s a flapping sound, mixed with a strained creaking from the cart, as the pony sinks to the ground.
Aaron quickly unhooks the shaft and the bags topple, thumping and rolling off the sides as the pony shudders. Shareen jumps clear of the crashing bags in time to stand
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