Like most firsts.. this story begins in summer.
I can finally wear my mini-shorts. Not that anyone will see me in them.
Ok. I'm lying. My grandma will (fully armed with a lecture about being decent).
Won't you get cold?
Yes. I sure will when it's 30 degrees celsius.
Speaking of heat. It's uncharacteristically hot in Broumana (a town in Lebanon)
Unsurprisingly, I speed to the kitchen to get my favorite Almaza beer.
I open the fridge hoping to find chocolate as well .
Instead, I spy with my hazel eyes cigarettes...IN THE FRIDGE
Nobody lives here except my 80 year old grandma (WHO DOES NOT SMOKE).
I scream. TETA (Grandma in Arabic). TETA. You smoke?
The sounds of footsteps echo in the distance.
I scream again . Teta. Teta.
But my grandma is taller.
Her teeth are yellower.
Her chin is hairier.
Alas, it is not my TETA.
Instantly, ants start crawling on my left cheek.
It is Mahmoud.
A care-giver. He gives.
Maybe a little too much.