The exasperated husband jumps out of bed and, pretending he is thirsty to justify his need to talk on his feet, he grabs the plastic bottle, fills the glass, sets it down on the dresser without drinking a drop, and shakes the bottle in the air like a stick:
Don’t you get it? Are you stupid or what? The fact that your friend told you he knows people who have prepared a terrorist attack is really serious. In my opinion that makes him a terrorist. A person who knows terrorists, what is he? A terrorist, that’s what he is.
Now you’re exaggerating, Filippo. Maybe Amìr only says these things to give himself importance, to make an impression – She pauses for a few seconds, weighing the significance of what they’re talking about. – No, no – he doesn’t really know any terrorists, he’s only saying that for effect.
But for Christ’s sake, he can’t just go around saying things like that! Are you joking? And you’re an idiot to hang out with those creeps. You’re putting our family at risk.
- Oh, come on! you’re an idiot too if you don’t understand how these things go.
- Oh, really? Then you tell me how things go. Come on. Let’s hear.
- It’s the Americans themselves who are behind these attacks, including the one on the twin towers. They had to make people scared so they could carry on their project of conquest, of imperial expansion, of financing the military-industrial complex. Bin Laden and the others had always worked for them in the past. What makes you think they’re not working for them still? And then the strategy of preparing attacks against civilians to demonize the enemy, to place the blame on them and instigate public opinion against them is old hat. Don’t you remember when the secret service and the right-wing - Gladio and the CIA - placed bombs here in Italy to explode in Piazza Fontana and the Bologna train station in order to stir up popular hatred against the left? The Americans have always been terrorists. Look what they did in Chile, in Cuba, all over the world. Only people who don’t want to see it don’t see it.
And who told you this shit? Your friend Amìr?
It’s not shit, Filippo. It’s the truth. You should listen to what people say more, instead of watching the news on tv.
- And this is what people say?
- Yes, it is. Certain people, yes. For sure.
Well then, Elena, you’ll have to choose between me, between your family, and these "certain people" you’re talking about. I can’t accept this. If you want to go on seeing them you’ll have to leave this house first. And I mean it.
You know, you’re really over the top, Filippo. Cool it, ok?
The exasperated lover pulls the old Fiat over to the curb, turns on the emergency lights and shakes his head from side to side, glowering darkly, concentrated on finding the right words:
- But what have you done? You know perfectly well I’ve never known a terrorist in my life, I know nothing about that stuff.
Of course I know, Amir. Of course, darling ... but don’t you see? I was desperate. I didn’t know what to say any more, what stories to feed my husband. It’s a thousand times better that he thinks I see you secretly because of your political ties...
What ties are you talking about?
Can I finish? Listen, it’s far better from him to think that than to find out about us.
No, no, Elena... No... You don’t realize. These things are dangerous. You don’t just say these things. You don’t understand what times we’re living in. People like me are all under suspicion. We’re considered potential terrorists, and here you go saying things like this...
Amir, listen. Who do you think my husband is going to talk to about what I said to him?
To the pharmaceutical representatives he screws whenever he can? to his patients? They’re all deaf, anyway. That’s why they go to see him. To his moron of a secretary? Listen, dear, there’s no risk involved. Trust me, it’s better this way. He worries about politics while we... Oh, what are you doing? You’re crying? Oh love, what are you doing?
You can’t do this to me... You’re out of your mind. I’m married, I have three children... Are you trying to ruin my life, Elena?
What are you saying, darling? You’re scared, poor dear. Don’t worry.. Look at me. Come on, look at me. Promise you won’t worry? I want you to promise, ok? You promise?
Sure, sure...
After trying in vain to call her husband, Elena put her mobile phone back into her purse and turned on the remote control. The automatic garage door slid up. She parked the van, got out, opened the trunk and started out taking packages of mineral water and setting them beside the garage walls. Then she heard the noise of a car coming slowly up the gravel path. The car stopped in front of her with the engine running. Still holding two six-bottle packages in each hand, she turned to see a light-blue car with two strangers hidden behind dark glasses in the front seat, and in the back seat her husband, Filippo, who was staring at her with a mortified expression. She put down the bottles and started walking towards the men, tilting her head to see them through the car window.
At the same time, on the other side of town Fatìma AI Hasan al Madani quickly stuffs everything they might need into two empty suitcases lying open on her bed, while two frightened little girls look on, together with a smaller boy who is trying to look confident and brave in front of the women. Meanwhile in the living-room the imam and one of his brothers are waiting impatiently to quit the house and go back to the mosque. Then, according to how things turned out, they would all decide what to do, who to leave the woman and the two girls with. The imam will take care of the little boy himself. He will live with other boys like him and will go to the Koranic school until someone can come and claim him.