Strings - Capstone Amal Al Shamsi (1)

Haya
“You didn’t need to do that.” He was cradling the sound of his daughter next to his ear,
back in his apartment.
“What do you mean?” He asked, shimmying the pan on the stove. It whistled in delight.
His daughter was softly laughing, there was another voice on the other end and Hamza
winced slightly as there was a sharp sound of shuffling. “Baba,” she said, he pictured her smile
and long hair collected behind her beloved peach headband, unruly but charming, like her
mother’s. “Here, listen,” she instructed, the sound of shuffling returned, punctuated with
silence. “Well, now she’s quiet. You say something. Introduce yourself.”
Hamza shifted on his feet. “Hello. Hello?” He felt a little silly, which made him smile.
“Say something, little rascal. Or I’ll send you back.”
He could hear more laughter on the other end.
“I order you to say something. Make yourself heard,” Hamza said, “Yallah.”
There were still only faint sounds, nothing to latch onto.
“Haya. ​Haya​,” Hamza called out, drawing out his daughter’s name. He had chosen it
because it was easy to say and meant something nice, like all their names did. His wife had
agreed, he hadn’t asked her what names she had considered before his suggestion. Or at least
that had been his assumption, for apparently she had been telling Haya stories of her
subliminally goading him towards the name choice.
His daughter picked the receiver back up, still laughing. “Sorry, baba, she is shy from
male voices,” she joked.
“There’s a difference between shyness and respect,” he told her but was grinning
nevertheless. He wanted to feel warm. “Forget about her, I am glad you like the cat. But what
about you?”
“She’s so gorgeous, really, where did you find her? Be serious, how much did you beg
Hamed to carry a cat? Me and mama have never seen such a cute one, maybe he finally has a
soft spot,” she told him.
Hamed, the sheepish gardener that he had employed for their little estate many years
ago, exactly how long he was unsure, was not easy to bribe. His fear of cats seemed like
something to be wary of. He had wondered what kind of man would shrink at the sight of a cat,
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