I was awakened from a deep deep sleep. The phone was ringing and it was the next day -- early the next day. My first thought was of who could that be at this time of the morning? It was or seemed way too early to get up, and I never got up before 10:00 AM. In fact anyone who knew me knew that I didn't get up before 10:00 AM and also knew not to call me before then.
I reached for the phone and saw a name and time stamp on the caller ID and answered. "Hello?"
"Hi, Sue," I heard a familiar voice, "this is Hatem's wife."
In a split second, I was puzzled. What? Who? Why? It's amazing how a lifetime of questions and feelings pass through several seconds without answers. "Is everything OK?" I asked with worry exploding through every word. Hatem's wife almost never called to talk to me, especially on my private cell number and especially at 6:30 in the morning.
"Hatem is in the hospital." I was numb. Hospital? What do you mean hospital?
"What?" I sat upright having been jolted out of the fuzziness of slumber. "The hospital? What do you mean? What hospital?"
"He fell down the steps outside of the house and is in here with a brain contusion." A contusion?! Just the word sounded ominous.
"Where are you? I'll be right over."
She had called from Kaiser Permanente on Geary. I was in a daze. To this day, I still don't remember the drive from San Bruno to the hospital. But I do recall calling Samar and telling her what I had just learned. It seemed the right thing to do at that time as she was working closely with Hatem in the restaurant, and I had be absent from that aspect of my business for so long. I figured because of her affiliation with and knowledge of the restaurant, she should know as well.
I arrived at the emergency area of the hospital and immediately looked for the Emergency room and hastened toward that part of the hospital. What now? How could this have happened? Just three months before, Hatem had been diagnosed with Stage 3B lung cancer with only a few months left to live. Even with this grave diagnosis, Hatem had continued to smoke against everyone's wishes. Unending shot glasses of brandy and unending cigarette chain smoking. That was Hatem. But for all intents and purposes, he had justified all of that by saying that he had been admitted into a cancer pilot program with experimental drugs. He had thought of himself as invincable. That, also, was Hatem.
And now, on top of all of that, he was in the hospital with a brain contusion.
I saw his wife immediately. She stood up and walked out of the room to meet me.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Monday, June 18, 2012
8. Fast Forward - March 2007 - The night was overcast and cold
March 2007
The night was overcast and cold. I was headed home. Teaching four classes a day was a rewarding but tiresome job and I longed to crawl into bed. Tomorrow would see another four dance classes beginning at 1:30 PM and ending at 9:00 PM while my little restaurant ran under the hands of people I trusted. I had stayed a little longer than usual, sweeping the floor and straightening up.
The wind hit my face as I opened the studio door onto the bright lights of Geary Boulevard and I headed down the sidewalk toward my car. It was beginning to sprinkle and I didn't have an umbrella. Unlocking the door I climbed in and sat in the front seat for a while, watching the cars drive by with their lights glaring in the wet bustling night. The sidewalks were starting to close down as restaurants and businesses were letting out their last customers. I wondered how the night had gone at Al-Masri but I knew would soon know. Hatem always called after closing time to tell me.
I turned over the ignition and pulled my little green Toyota out into the street. Droplets were splashing off the windshield. Another 20 minutes and I would be home.
10:15 PM and the phone rang. "How did it go?" I asked in anticipation turning onto Sunset Boulevard. It had been a long four years since I gave up control of my restaurant to Hatem, who in turn had handed it over to Samar's management -- something I was not at all comfortable with since I stepped out of the restaurant kitchen and into my dance studio above Thom's Natural Food Store on Geary Boulevard. But I had, in those four years, pulled together an intricate one-year curriculum which far surpassed any I had taken, and I knew I was onto something. And, I was producing quality dancers. After all, Samar was one of those dancers as was her sister, Gabriela. Hatem had allowed Samar, against my wishes, to run my restaurant. But, as ill at ease as I was in that decision, and as many times as I questioned his judgment, Hatem always seemed to know how to convince me into thinking he knew what he was doing. And it always sounded legitimate and true.
"We had a full house." was his answer. His voice was weary-sounding but happy.
"That's great, Hatem!" I sighed a huge sigh of relief and smiled to myself. The money was finally going to come in, I thought, and I began to get a sense of security, feeling that my house would soon be rid of its refinances and second mortgage loans. It had been a along time coming -- too long for my taste. My dance school was growing and the restaurant was now making money. All would be well....
...or so I thought.
The night was overcast and cold. I was headed home. Teaching four classes a day was a rewarding but tiresome job and I longed to crawl into bed. Tomorrow would see another four dance classes beginning at 1:30 PM and ending at 9:00 PM while my little restaurant ran under the hands of people I trusted. I had stayed a little longer than usual, sweeping the floor and straightening up.
The wind hit my face as I opened the studio door onto the bright lights of Geary Boulevard and I headed down the sidewalk toward my car. It was beginning to sprinkle and I didn't have an umbrella. Unlocking the door I climbed in and sat in the front seat for a while, watching the cars drive by with their lights glaring in the wet bustling night. The sidewalks were starting to close down as restaurants and businesses were letting out their last customers. I wondered how the night had gone at Al-Masri but I knew would soon know. Hatem always called after closing time to tell me.
I turned over the ignition and pulled my little green Toyota out into the street. Droplets were splashing off the windshield. Another 20 minutes and I would be home.
10:15 PM and the phone rang. "How did it go?" I asked in anticipation turning onto Sunset Boulevard. It had been a long four years since I gave up control of my restaurant to Hatem, who in turn had handed it over to Samar's management -- something I was not at all comfortable with since I stepped out of the restaurant kitchen and into my dance studio above Thom's Natural Food Store on Geary Boulevard. But I had, in those four years, pulled together an intricate one-year curriculum which far surpassed any I had taken, and I knew I was onto something. And, I was producing quality dancers. After all, Samar was one of those dancers as was her sister, Gabriela. Hatem had allowed Samar, against my wishes, to run my restaurant. But, as ill at ease as I was in that decision, and as many times as I questioned his judgment, Hatem always seemed to know how to convince me into thinking he knew what he was doing. And it always sounded legitimate and true.
"We had a full house." was his answer. His voice was weary-sounding but happy.
"That's great, Hatem!" I sighed a huge sigh of relief and smiled to myself. The money was finally going to come in, I thought, and I began to get a sense of security, feeling that my house would soon be rid of its refinances and second mortgage loans. It had been a along time coming -- too long for my taste. My dance school was growing and the restaurant was now making money. All would be well....
...or so I thought.
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