“Be off. I am not a porter. I am an Arabic teacher.” I retorted.

After a while, I heard knocking on my door again, this time more violently. I had already started to get dressed and when I opened the door, I saw her. She was red with anger and was growing all the more irritated by the incessant truck honking. The crowned queen fired at me: “Why don’t you go down and lend a hand in unloading the truck?”

I tried to practice some self-composure to avoid the clash and replied in the most polite tone: “Ma’am, I am an Arabic teacher, not a porter.”

“But you work for me. I command you to go down immediately and help out,” she replied.

It was at that moment that I flew off the handle and clenched back: “Ma’am, I am not taking any orders from you. I am here to teach Arabic, not to lift flour bags.”

“Then, consider yourself fired from your job.”

“Ma’am, the sacking is most welcome! I am fed up with this place. I will abide by your commands and leave. “

Her lower lip was quivering with rage. It was the first time I saw her up close. Gees, how charming she was! Brutal yet beautiful!

“I warned you,” said Rose when she heard about the incident. “Now what?”

“I will return to Beirut Monday morning. Thank you for all you have done for me, Rose” I replied.

I was at Mr. Brown’s door Monday morning. He smiled at me and made an educated guess: “This time, you are fleeing from Saida!”

When I inquired how he knew, he answered: “The director called me and told me all about your nerve. How dared you challenge her commands?”