by Abufares
I searched for my reflection in the eyes of this stunning and flawless woman. “Hello Amar, how are you today?” There was an aura of uncharted simplicity about her. Her outward candor, however, was illusive. A fool, as most men really were, would be cunning himself if he thought he could ever have an upper hand through deceiving her. She was simple in the way gods were supposed to be. To ever win her heart and mind was by being faithful not only to her but more importantly to oneself.
She looked at the roses in my hand. “Are these for me?” She asked, a bemused and ineluctable smile sweeping her face momentarily.
“Of course they are. Sorry I couldn’t get you something more beautiful.” I mumbled self-consciously and handed her the bouquet.
“Oh but they are.” She took a deep breath inhaling the luscious fragrance, eyes twinkling with streaks of light and lips parted unveiling a row of perfect pearls. “Eleven pink roses and a single red one! How interesting.” Her countenance shifted subtly from the angelically innocent to the sensually inviting. She had this wonderful frisky spirit, so mal’ouneh (mischievous) in an attractive and sexy way. “Did they run out of pink?” she tittered then restrained herself.
Although I was tremendously enjoying her little game the babble of my five guests pounded my head like a jackhammer. I knew that they were totally absorbed at the moment with us, Amar and me. Thoughts strived in my mind trying to reach equilibrium. I invited them for lunch and they all made it to the cafe before I did. In a moment I would be bombarded by their questions about this gorgeous woman standing so tantalizingly close to me. They would want to know everything about her. If she stays here they will drive me to insanity for sure. The way they already sat around the table left me with no choice but to take the chair with my back to her. I needed to think and think fast to get myself out of this muddle.
“Youssef, I have some errands to run. There’s a Dekkan (convenience store) a couple of minutes down the road. I need to buy some stuff. I also have to make a few phone calls from the apartment. I think I’m going to stay for a while here in the village. After a dreadful night I woke up to the most glorious morning and spent it on that balcony”. She indicated the general direction by a subtle movement of her head. Oh God what a beautiful neck she had. I wish, I wish… I was that aquamarine teardrop hanging over her little… “Youssef! Did you hear what I just said?”
“Sorry, what was it?” I looked and sounded so much the fool. “What went wrong last night? Tell me.”
“Never mind.” A worrying shade wavered somewhere over her lips then as if blown by a gust of wind it disappeared. “I’ll be back around five o’clock. That will give you plenty of time to enjoy your lunch and have your man-talk with your football buddies. Do you have to go immediately afterward or are you going to stay?”
As if she needed to ask. “I’m staying. They will go but I’m staying, indefinitely.” Words run faster than thoughts in the heat of summer. I have shed a layer of dead skin since I first laid eyes on this woman. Do I dare admit this errant ray of happiness passing through my closed shutters, drawing patterns on the wall and exposing specks of suspended dust? How long will it illuminate my heart before sunlight fades and darkness swallows the neglected corners? I was plunging headfirst deeper and deeper into… her. There was no escaping the falling. I closed my eyes for an infinitesimal instant. I might get hurt again, I realized, but this time I did not give a damn.
“Thank you for the lovely roses. I would ask you about the solitary red one later. Enjoy your lunch with your friends. They are straining their ears to listen to every single word we’re saying.” She said that and left to the enclosed part of the cafe. Within a moment I could hear her and Yasmina chatting excitedly. I turned toward my table then, where five hounds, fired up and awfully excited were staring at me with disgusting smirks. Oh, well, I am in for a long session of verbal abuse by a bunch of men I grew up with. They want to know everything about me and the most beautiful woman they have ever seen.
—–
We laughed like children, ate like hungry bears and drank like warriors expecting to die on the battle field come the next day. I have been out of touch with them, with the rest of the world for so long. Three of my best friends lived abroad and it was such an excitingly happy coincidence for all of them to be home at the same time. “She’s your what? How come we’ve never heard of this Bint Khaleh (cousin) before?” Other sarcastic comments flew around the table and landed in the Arak we earnestly drank. The food and the ambiance in the now fully packed terrace were out of this world. My companions were very impressed and they blamed me for keeping the Sea Breeze Cafe as my private secret. Farid and I were the closest perhaps all the way back to prep school. He is a very accomplished surgeon in London today. When I lived there during my graduate studies he and I became even closer. He married his high school sweetheart and had two wonderful kids who send me postcards to this day always starting with Dear Ammo Youssef. Rayyan made it big in the sea as we say in Tartous. He was my friend too but he was also a nouveau riche shipowner who transported and traded with everything from contraband cigarettes to illegal North and West African immigrants and refugees. He was perhaps the richest man in town but that did not prevent us, his buddies of old, to treat him as the dumb bastard he truly was. He moved back and forth between his several residences in Europe and Tartous a few times per year. Habib was the athlete among us. In his twenties, he was what all the girls wanted or so he wished to believe. The passage of time had enhanced his wonderful sense of humor but his attempt to conceal his scalp with his thinning and dyed hair was funnier than any joke he could ever come up with. He works and lives in New York where he owns three or four middle eastern delis. Bassam was a successful civil engineer with his own private practice in Tartous. We talked regularly over the phone but could not spend any significant time together since last summer. I liked Bassam and enjoyed his company although he never drinks. He worked hard for every penny he earned yet he maintained his affection for serious reading to become an indisputable authority on Mediterranean and Levantine history. Nabil was perhaps less fortunate then all of us. He and I were the only unmarried men in our bunch, each for his own reason. He was a civil servant, who believed, and he was right, that an honest man could never get married and start a family on the meager government salary. Yet we were all equal this afternoon. Even Farid who came from an old money family blended perfectly with us in that most formidable Tartoussi way.
We had our coffee and reminisced about our salad days. When it became time to leave, Farid covered for me while the rest wanted to know why I am not going with them to Lattakia to spend the evening. I kissed each twice on the cheeks and watched them wave goodbye from behind the closed windows of the two cars. I stood there near the entrance until they made a U-turn down the road and sped along the highway heading north.
—–
I did not wait long for Amar. I saw her from a distance walking toward the cafe. I left and met her across the street.
“You look like you’ve had a fantastic time with your friends.” She tilted her head to the side and picked at the lose strand of hair.
“How about we go for a walk on the beach?” I asked while I veered away from the cafe.
“Only if you tell me about the red rose.” She chuckled and walked by my side.
“How many times did you smell them so far?” The Arak tickled my brain as I stared at the distant horizon.
“Oh, I don’t know, perhaps six or seven times, why?” she wondered, frowning amiably.
“And when you smelled them didn’t you single out the red one? Didn’t the red petals come in touch with your nose every time?” I stopped, turned to her, not seeing anything around me except her face.
“Yes, I think so. Why are you asking?” She was really puzzled.
Her shoulder lightly brushed my arm as we resumed our unhurried amble. “Because that’s the one I kissed, ten, perhaps twenty times, before I gave you the dozen roses.”
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