Chapter 21: Not to be taken for granted

Friday 1-June 2007

Hassan was a lot better by Friday. Not well enough to go to school, but well enough for Shahia to go back at school, with a huge smile on her face, and well enough for them all to come to Chris's place like usual, though Chris's mum went around and picked him up to meet the rest of them after school.

They were all nicely settled when Lisa arrived with her mum in tow. Since Chris hadn't told her why he had asked her to pop over, she was astounded when both Chris and Shahia answered the door.

"Does this mean that I'm going to find out the big secret?" she asked in an excited tone as she walked in.

"Do you remember the thing about the knife, Lisa?" Chris asked her.

She nodded.

"Well, why do you want to know? Do you really want to help?"

Chastened, Lisa nodded. "Yes, I promise to help. You're a good friend; I've known you a long time. If you're sure, then I'm pretty sure that I'll be sure too."

He looked at Shahia, and she nodded. "All right, come and sit in the corner here."

It was melodramatic, he knew, but sitting in the corner of the lounge room on the floor behind the lounges, it made it intimate and seemed to suit the mood. Unfortunately, there was only space for the three of them.

"Don't mind me," Janine said, "I'll just sit back here and listen."

They sat in a triangle, their knees touching. Chris started. "Well, Lisa, you asked me to ask Shahia if you could hear her story, and she decided that you could."

"Thank you, Chris, and thank you, Shahia."

Shahia nodded, and went to start speaking. Just as she did, Maria found them, and ran to Chris. "Mama!" she said, so he picked her up and handed her to Shahia.

Lisa's eyes were boggling. Chris could read her mind. He went to explain, but no, this was Shahia's story.

"Lisa, this is Maria. She'll come and go while I tell my story."

She took a deep breath. "My father's name was Hassan Esfahani. He was born in Yazd, a city in Iran, a Persian Shiite Muslim, poor as dirt. He went to Cairo University to study commerce on an Iranian government scholarship. My mother's name was Georgette Baracat, from Jezzine in Lebanon. She was a Druze Christian, from a rich family. They sent her to Cairo University to study arts, but really, to find a rich, influential Egyptian husband.

"They met, and they fell in love. They tried to introduce each other to their families, but neither would meet the other. In fact, my father got death threats for loving a Christian, though really, neither of them was at all religious. And then my mum got pregnant with me. So they left Cairo, ran away. I was born in Syria, in a little place called As Suwar.

"Somehow, I don't know how, they managed to get to Australia. We arrived when I was about as old as Maria is now. They fell in love with Australia — nearly as much as they loved each other. They stopped teaching me Arabic, and I learnt English instead. Dad set up an import-export business, middle-eastern stuff, and gradually we got quite rich. Rich enough to send me to St Joseph's, and I could have almost anything I wanted. But we weren't actually legal here — they never did the paperwork. So I don't know how he got in and out of the country.

"Along the way, Hassan was born, and then Alyssa. They wanted a real Australian name for her, whatever that means. And then Mum had Maria."

Chris could see it in Lisa's face, the moment when it all came together, and she knew exactly where Shahia was going with her story. He could see the shock and sadness that came over her face.

The rest of the story was all stuff that Chris already knew, though Shahia skipped over some of the more personal details, including her financial state, and how she'd listened to her mum die.

He zoned out, wondering quite what Lisa would make of all this, and played with Maria. All of a sudden, he heard his name, and started listening again. " ... comes up to me on the field at school and, out of the blue, he tells me most of what I've just told you. That day, I was so close to the edge. Chris really saved me; he's done it several times, both before and since then. Like that first day he took my detention for me, when I had to meet with the department that afternoon right after school. And that beating from Jerry, but you know about that."

Chris was a little embarrassed, but he knew it was true. He looked at Lisa. She was looking at both of them with a mixed expression of awe and grief, and she had been crying.

She leaned forward and hugged both of them, drawing them together so that all their heads were touching. "That's the saddest, scariest, most amazingly inspirational story I've ever heard. Shahia, I knew something was wrong, but I had no idea. You're the bravest person I've ever met. I want you both to know that you have my complete support. I'll do anything. Chris, I understand you now. You really are a hero for what you've done."

He wondered what she'd think if she knew that the most challenging thing of all for him was changing Maria's nappy, though he knew that his mum was very impressed - she'd told him so.

He stood up and went to find Hassan and Alyssa so that Lisa could meet them. Lisa recognised Hassan from soccer at school. "Oh, hello, I've seen you playing soccer on Thursdays after school and wondered who you were." Lisa hung around for a while, chatting to them all, but eventually her mum emerged from the kitchen where she'd been talking to Chris's mum and said that they had to leave.

At dinner, Chris looked around the table. There were nine of them squeezed in around the table. It was tight, especially with Maria in her high chair, but it felt good; everyone wanted to be there and joined in the discussion. Even Maria, though only Bec and Alyssa pretended to understand her contributions. No one minded though, it was so cute the way she'd say something completely unintelligible, but in the appropriate tone. Everyone would burst into laughter, which only encouraged her.

After dessert, his dad announced in a very serious tone of voice that it was time for an important family meeting, and that everyone had to stay seated. Then both Chris's mum and he got up and walked out of the room, leaving a shocked and sombre group behind him. Shahia and Chris shared a look — they were the only ones who knew what was going on.

Almost immediately they walked back in. His mum was carrying a cake, and his dad had a big box. Chris and Shahia shared another look; the cake they knew about, but what was the box?

The look on Hassan's face when he realised that the cake — which was decorated as a soccer ball ‑ was for him was priceless. It was still there all the way through lighting the candles and singing happy birthday. He had the biggest smile when he blew out the candles. Then Chris's dad gave him the box.

"It's yours — open it up."

He was nearly overcome when he finally pulled an acoustic guitar out of the box.

"Oh, Mr and Mrs Mackenzie, this is so amazing, what can I say?"

Chris glanced at Shahia, she was nearly as affected as Hassan. He saw her turn to his mum and dad and whisper her thanks, which they welcomed with a smile.

They sat and watched while Jay helped him tune it up, and then he played it a little for them. Chris could see that he was a little embarrassed, thinking he wasn't very good, and in a way he wasn't; but given that all he'd had was a few hours mucking around with Jay, Chris thought he was doing quite well.