Page 79 of Your Echo
Guita is speaking quietly, but the air in the room still seems to reverberate with the sound of her voice, like she’s just rung a meditation bell. As I listen to her, my breathing slowly begins to deepen.
“When we’re sad, we see sadness everywhere,” she elaborates. “When we’re hurt, we think everything wants to hurt us. Our suffering makes us attach meanings to the things around us. Perspective shapes our perception. Sometimes that makes it difficult to see what’s really there.”
She shifts on her pillow, finding a more comfortable position, but I stay glued to the spot.
“You know some of this story already, but when I was still in Lebanon, my husband got into trouble. We were good people, honest people, but there are so many threats in that country. Hamees got tied up with some bad men. We gave them so much, but they always wanted more. Eventually there was nothing left to give but our lives. Going to the police wasn’t an option; we needed to leave if we wanted to survive. Hamees sent me to Canada first. I lived with his cousin while he stayed behind until he could raise the money to come himself.”
Guita has shared some stories from her life in Lebanon with me before, but she usually focuses on the good things: the market where she bought her groceries, the crowds of nieces and nephews her sisters always brought to her house, the bakery her and Hamees owned together just like they do in Montreal.
“When I first arrived in this country, I hated it,” she admits. “I hated how different it was. I hated the cold. I hated how no one understood me, and how unintelligent that made me feel. Sometimes I was so scared for Hamees I could barely breathe. I had never been so lonely in all my life. I was taking English classes at a community centre, and my teacher was the one who told me about the AMM. At first I only came here to escape the hostility outside, all the people who thought I was stupid and didn’t belong, but eventually I found this place brought me peace. I learned to take that peace with me wherever I went, and I realized the world outside wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought. When Hamees finally arrived, the first thing I did was take him to see all the parts of this city I love.”
She closes her eyes for a moment and smiles.
“Prespective shapes our perception, Stéphanie,” she repeats, “but the good thing about perspective is that you can change it. Just a small step in a new direction and everything looks different. You only have to choose to take that step.”
I must look as blown away as I feel, because she smiles and pushes herself onto her feet before offering a hand to pull me up next to her.
“I think that’s enough meditation for today.”
I answer her smile with a weak one of my own. “Yeah, maybe that’s enough for today.”
We walk into the hallway. Guita follows me to the front door, waiting as I pull my shoes on.
“Merci, Guita,” I thank her once I’m ready to leave. “Merci beaucoup. For everything. It felt...very good to have someone listen, and I know I’m going to be up all night thinking about your advice.”
She laughs. “I didn’t mean to make you lose any sleep,ma belle, but I’m glad you found it helpful.”
I pull the door open, and she asks me to wait.
“Stéphanie, Iamglad I could help you,” she repeats, “but I’m only here to help you as a friend, and sometimes we need more than a friend when we’re hurting. I hope you know I don’t mean to offend you, but have you ever thought about seeing someone? For therapy?”
“Therapy?” I repeat.
Do I seem crazier than I thought?
“You’ve dealt with a lot,” Guita rushes to explain, “and you said talking today really helped. Talking to someone who does this professionally might help even more. I saw a therapist for a few months after I came to Canada. It’s just something to think about.”
“I will,” I tell her, “think about it, that is.”
She clasps her hands together. “Good. Very good.”
“Thanks again, Guita.” I move out onto the doorstep. “The AMM is lucky to have you around.”
“The AMM is lucky to haveyouaround,ma belle.Prends soins.”
“Take care,” I repeat.
She shuts the door behind me. I make my way up the street, staring down at the faded tops of my Keds as they skip over cracks in the sidewalk.
