Love Is an Ex-Country by Randa Jarrar

Author:Randa Jarrar
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781948226592
Publisher: Catapult
Published: 2020-11-16T00:00:00+00:00

12

THEFT

An ex-student sent me a message, saying that she was going to Ramallah the following month. She asked, Do you want me to bring you anything from the homeland?

The homeland, I said. Bring me the whole homeland.

I wish, she responded.

That wound, that sense of constant ache for home. That feeling that refugees have, that they were robbed of a resting place; it never stops.

Inventory. A key chain; lipsticks, usually the cheap drugstore kind; hair products such as serum at fifteen dollars an ounce; clothes, skirts and tops and dresses; shoes, with my old ones left on the display shelf; a phone line, I used D’s social security number to start it, ran a four-hundred-dollar bill before it was shut down; food, all sorts of meals from Whole Foods, and sundry items from self-serve bulk sections of grocery stores around the country—cashews, tea, dried fruit, crystallized ginger, all of which I labeled as a similar colored product that cost 800 percent less; toilet paper, from bars and libraries and once, The Cheesecake Factory; cocktail glasses, usually still with cocktails in them; ibuprofen; lighters, mostly not on purpose; a very large bag, which I took off a mannequin, slung around my shoulder, shopped the store for an hour while wearing, then walked out with, the plastic security tag making not a sound—I like to think the bag grew accustomed to me; several blocks of printing paper; pens and pencils from offices and people; a compact mirror from the Louvre gift shop.

I am a thief.

Unlike most people, I never stole as a child. I knew it was wrong, and I was afraid of the consequences. It was important for me to be, and to be seen as, a Good Girl. Positive attention shone my direction when I received straight As, when I spoke politely, and when I followed rules.

And then the Gulf War happened. The expulsion of Palestinians, an already-expelled group, from Kuwait happened. Our family moving to Connecticut happened.

•

It was in Connecticut that I stole my very first thing. I had a job on the main avenue. The job was at an independent body-care shop, where I shrink-wrapped lotions for elderly women. The avenue was a long, multi-block shopping street, lined, top to bottom, with pricey restaurants and high-end clothing stores. After work, I walked across the street to smoke a secret cigarette. I was fifteen years old. Boys at school called me Tits, and girls called me Rhoda. After my cigarette, I would walk into a gift shop. There were toys and buttons and pens and mugs and key chains with “American” names on them. None of the key chains had my name. Nothing in all of the world had my name. This meant I did not exist. Which then meant that I was invisible. Which lead me to believe I could take whatever I wanted. So I took a blank keychain, and I walked out. Nothing happened. No alarm sounded. I was thrilled and warm all over, until I realized I had no keys, no place of my own, and that the keychain was useless to me.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.