Flashback

by Dawn Carter

  The young woman stopped to buy some fruit, when her male companion ran up from behind and handed her a flower. The shy girl stopped, bowed her head, and giggled. Spencer smiled, acknowledging that romance was the one universal thing that could not be mistaken for anything else.

  Shuffling her feet, she found a spot by a man-made waterfall in the middle of the shopping area. She looked down at the water, and ran the fingers of her left hand through its coolness.

  The hair on the back of her neck suddenly stood up—she could feel eyes on her. She looked around, and saw the same familiar faces she had just passed through. No one seemed to be paying attention to her, yet the unmistakable feeling that she was being watched lingered.

  Other than an old priest seated at the bar, sipping on a beverage, there was no one else. Spencer laughed, asking herself why he would be watching her. That’s strange. The feeling lingered, and her heart began to pound heavy in her ears. It’s just my imagination, she thought, trying to laugh it off. Needing to rest and put her mind on other things, she pulled the journal from her satchel and found a dry spot on the edge of the fountain.

  Dear Diary,

  It’s my first day in Cairo. Everyone here seems to be nice. I’m falling in love with the architecture. To think some of the buildings are hundreds, maybe even thousands of years old. I can see why my college professor loved it here. If I was not here for one reason only, I might see if I could get a job teaching. I think I could get used to it here. Well, other than the heat. Wow, it’s hotter than I imagined.

  Who knows what tomorrow holds. Right now, though, I need to get my head together. Now that I’m here, I haven’t a clue where to start. Nothing in the books I read prepared me for this. I don’t know what I expected.

  Mom called while I was sleeping and left a message. I need to call her back as I promised to let her know when I got here, but I was so tired. I still feel a little jet lagged, but I’m not going to let that get to me. I saw a huge church with the most amazing statue built into the building. I found it strange, since most of the churches in Cairo are Islamic. I’m going to put that on my list of places to visit, just because. I’m kind of thinking I need to get to know the locals, and then I can find out where everything is more easily.

  Time to call mom before she flies out here to find me. More later.

  Chapter 9

  In the restaurant and lounge located down the block from her hotel, Spencer ate her first full meal in Cairo. She ate slowly, and watched others in the establishment. Some talked loudly, some were quiet as they ate, others were at the bar, drowning their sorrows.

  As time passed, and the clock ticked away each passing minute, her mind played tricks on her, and she started to question everything. Am I wrong about Anai being reincarnated? Am I chasing a ghost? Trying to stay positive, she shook off the negative thoughts. She’s here, I know it. I can feel her. Spencer nervously traced an undefined pattern on her shirt with her fingers as she listened to the various voices in the crowded restaurant. Biting her lip, she wondered if her destiny was the same as one of the many women in the crowd.

  She looked around, taking in smiles, the way hands moved, and the mannerisms. No one in the sea of faces caught her attention. It was getting late, and she was ready to call it a night. She started to shuffle to her feet, when she felt a soft touch around her arms, and her breathing stopped. The voices from the crowd became mere whispers, and disappeared within seconds. The only sound she heard was the pounding of her own heart. Gulping a hard breath, Spencer turned around slowly, not wanting the moment to end. She stared into deep, bright, honey-colored eyes. They were not the eyes of her one true love.

  Grinning, Spencer inched back. “Can I help you?”

  The woman raised one arm and placed it over Spencer’s shoulder, her lips moved, and formed a little grin that exploded into a huge smile. She leaned in and kissed her cheek, a form of greeting, and stepped beside her. “Such a beautiful woman to be alone.” She then sat down on the chair beside Spencer.

  Moving her eyes from side to side, Spencer searched for the words to let the woman down without hurting her feelings. “I’m not alone, I’m waiting for my partner.”

  Gracefully, the woman extended her hand across the table, and with her fingertips, caressed Spencer’s arm. “Too bad, I love American women, they know what it takes to make a woman come.”

  Spencer blinked back, trying not to smile, surprised by how forward the stranger was. Finally, finding her voice, she replied, “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.” Excusing herself, Spencer stepped away from the table and moved through the crowd as quickly as she could.

  Anai, or whatever name you go by, you need to show yourself soon.

  Later that night, Spencer lay in her bed and stared at the moonlight as it formed patterns on the ceiling. What a weird day. She laughed. That lady was obviously crazy. And from what she had observed, it wasn't a very long step from crazy to dangerous. Spencer inwardly laughed—it was best to just forget the woman, get some sleep, and prepare for the next day. She sighed and shut her eyes. In the brief moment right before sleep took her, a variety of colors swirled around beneath her eyelids, until all went black.

  From the dark, she heard a loud bang and her eyes sprang open. She frowned, trying to regain her vision. In clear view, the bed, the room, the ceiling that had been studded with flecks of moonlight, had disappeared. In their place was something cold and dark. What the hell? The lamp that had been across the room had transformed into a flickering torch. She sat up with a gasp, casting a wild glance around the room. Only, it was no longer her room. She was in a cavern of some sort, sand beneath her feet. Statues lined various areas of the hall ahead, some taller than her, and torches lit the space at the far side of the stone walls around her. It was obvious she was no longer in the hotel, but an ancient structure. She knew, even then, she was dreaming.

  As she moved forward, there was a sudden realization that she wasn’t alone. Someone, or something, was standing at the end of the corridor, watching her, eyes glimmering from the flickering torchlight. Spencer’s gaze traced the outline, the delicate features, and when the light flickered just right, the blackish-blue eyes, high cheekbones, and bronze color skin came into view.

  “Anai.” Spencer heard herself call out.

  In response, Anai folded her arms and stepped forward slightly. “Yiara, you’ve come.”

  Spencer could no longer control herself; with each step forward, her pace picked up until she was inches from the figure. “I’m here for you, Anai.”

  “I’ve always been here, Yiara, waiting for you. You need to find me.”

  Taking Anai by the hand, Spencer lowered her gaze. “I’ll leave no stone unturned. I will find our tombs. I’ll find you.”

  “I’m right here, Yiara. Look for me.”

  “Is this a dream?”

  “Yes and no. This is a dream, your dream, but it’s also a gateway into what is to come.”

  Spencer took Anai in her arms, tears streaming from her eyes. “It’s been you all my life. I am not whole without you.”

  “Find me, Yiara.” Instantly, the woman whose warmth gave her hope disappeared, leaving a void in her arms. From the dark, Anai’s voice echoed, repeating the same message. “Find me, Yiara.”

  Gasping for air, Spencer sat upright in bed, her hand clenching her arm. “Where am I?” Looking around, she sighed. “It was just a dream!” Her mind raced to make sense of it. Was I really there, was she really there, or was it a message from the heavens? There was no mistaking, she was awake now, and she could still feel Anai. Is this fate bringing us together? Is she also here looking for me? Agreeing with her last thought, Spencer swallowed and found herself nodding. “Yes.” Her voice came out as barely a whisper. “She’s here, and I will find her.”

  ●●●

  Heading south in the direction of the market, Spencer made a mental list of what she needed to buy. First on her list was a map of Cairo, since the hotel was out. N
ext, a list of times and dates of when they take the tourists to the old ruins. Find out where to rent a camel and a tour guide, and go grocery shopping. The latter part was on her list of things to do in the next few hours. There was no way she could afford to eat out all the time. Luckily, her room had a refrigerator, and would hold at least a week’s worth of food at a time. Her diet for the week consisted of a lot of fresh vegetables, fruit, fish, and a meat that looked like lamb.

  Merchant stalls crowded the market place, and dark-skinned children played. The Egyptians greeted her with dazzling smiles, hoping she would buy their wares. Their stalls were covered magnificently with bright cloth.

  Each stall was different. Some sold browned fish, hard bread, others shimmering jewels, shining metals, crisp, pristine linen, and juicy figs and dates. A man dressed in traditional white tunic played the flute in the streets as the crowd tossed coins to him.

  Everything smelled so good. Hungry, she handed the merchant money. The proud man smiled, exposing missing front teeth. He weighed the purchase on the scale before handing her the pure white honey-coated roll. It only took one bite and she was in heaven.

  That was the easiest part of her day. As the sun rose high in the sky, she found herself in the heart of Cairo, looking in the window of a souvenir shop for maps, avoiding the vendors who tried to entice her with their handmade clothes and blankets. Once inside a store that had a row of maps, she spoke slowly so the storeowner would understand what she was looking for. He insisted that she buy a couple of maps of the ruins - ones with side notes, describing who had been entombed within them.

  Pleased, she moved through the aisles, eyeing potential purchases to send back home. She was not ready to buy now, but that did not stop her from admiring the paintings and artifacts. Most of the statues were of Horus and The Sphinx, staffs and cats. As she walked along the stretch of wall, her fingers traced along faces from the past. It did not surprise her that she didn’t recognize anyone, but as strange as the faces were, the images gave her comfort.

  At the end of the isle, a single portrait caught her attention. She narrowed her eyes, and was instantly taken aback. The image staring back at her, on what appeared to be on old papyrus, was an exact likeness of herself. “What the fuck?” Stumbling back, her eyes darted between her reflection in a nearby mirror and the single picture.

  From the front of the store, the merchant heard her cussing, and rushed to her side to see what the problem was. He looked first at her profile and then at the picture. It didn’t register at first, until Spencer faced him. He leaned in further to peer at the likeness, stumbled back— then fell to his knees. “My Queen.” He removed his turban and bowed his head. “You’ve returned.”

  Her gaze darted from him, then back to the picture, and to her own reflection in the mirror. Spencer traced the jeweled tattoo around her neck. It was an exact replica of the one in the portrait. It was obviously a modern painting, but there was no denying the likeness. Same straight nose, same high cheekbones, same long, straight, black hair, and the same thin lips. Shaking her head, Spencer heard herself saying, “No…No way.” Dizzy, she turned and bolted from the store, her heart thundering in her chest, her mind crazed in confusion. She kept running, and didn’t stop until she was alone, with nothing around her for miles. Just her, the sand, and the hot sun overhead.

  She had no idea why she had run. For the first time in her life, she’d had an opportunity to gain answers to her past, the past she now was sure she had not manufactured in her mind. No, there is no denying it now. She rationalized the reason she had panicked was because of the similarity; her skin was not as bronzed, but the features and likeness were unmistakable. That was what had confused her. She was Spencer, not Yiara. How could she look so much like her past self?

  ●●●

  Several hours later, Spencer found someone to show her around; it was harder than she had thought it would be. She had spoken to several people. The last, dressed in traditional clothing, had laughed when Spencer explained what she was looking for. Discouraged, chin in her hand, she had sat upon the steps of the Hanging Church. She had missed the tour to the pyramids, and would have to wait until the next day. Not wanting to spend her day in the room, she used her time learning about the unique construction of the different buildings.

  She was amazed when she learned that the Romans had had the church built. This history fascinated her. Father Jacob Soliman showed her around the enormous building, and took the time to explain the meaning of each statue. It wasn’t how Spencer had planned on spending her day, but she was grateful for the distraction. Going on faith, she explained to him in confidence what had brought her to Cairo. He smiled and nodded, but Spencer knew she had lost him the moment she had explained the person she was looking for was also a woman.

  He seemed to distance himself soon after, and Spencer was once again on her own. It didn’t sway her. She was in a religious country, and knew she had to keep her sexuality low key. She was not sure if they still put homosexuals to death, usually by stoning them, but she was not willing to risk her life.

  The bicycle she had rented was her savior; walking had become tiring. Cairo was larger than Spencer had thought it would be. Along the rain-washed asphalt, she heard a noise akin to music. At first, she thought it must be some wood-chimes hanging on the buildings. A few seconds later, she realized that the noise was not only traveling with her, but was far too regular to be caused by the wind. A small laugh escaped her lips. Stuck between the spokes of the front wheel were dried leaves, their stems striking the spokes as the wheel turned. She could have stopped and pulled them out, but she liked it. The sound was somewhere between pretty and spooky, perfect for the strange roads she was traveling. At the top of a hill, her anticipation built, knowing what was ahead of her. Her hair whipped back as she lifted her feet off the pedals. She flew down the hill, passing several cars. She felt like a teenager once again; she had not ridden a bike since her second year of high school.

  Her mood changed when the museum came into focus. For a brief moment, she was not thinking about Anai, the reason she was in Cairo. Instead, for a brief time as the wind blew in her face, she was free.

  The building was enormous, and there was no way she would see even a portion of it if she went there now. It was already late afternoon, and there was no way she would go for just half of the experience. Hungry, and still jet-lagged, it was time to call it a day.

  Dear Diary,

  It was my first full day in Cairo. I called mom a little while ago, as promised; she was great to talk to. She said she was going to wire me some more money, and send a care package of the things I like. God, I love her.

  I’m regretting not going into the museum. Now that I’m back in the room, I’m wide awake, and could have kept going for a few more hours. There’s no real entertainment. All the channels on the radio and TV are in Egyptian, and I don’t understand it. Maybe it’s time to learn. I did see an English-Egyptian dictionary at the store where I purchased the maps.

  Oh, yeah, the store. I came across a picture, an old one. It was like looking at myself. She was wearing the same jewelry, and the clerk at the store called me his Queen. It was freaky. I have a feeling I’m going to get some answers soon. I’m sure of it. I need to buy that picture.

  The tour will begin early in the morning, so I think it would be smart to go to bed early. I heard it’s even hotter in the desert, and since we will be riding under the hot sun, I might want to be refreshed.

  I did break down and buy a few scarves today, to cover my head and face. It’s a form of respect to the locals, but it will also save my skin from getting too much sun.

  Mom said Dad wasn’t feeling good today. I hope he’s going to be okay. It seems whenever I go away, he gets sick. Mom said it’s all in his mind. I hope she’s right.

  Well I need to shower and sleep. More tomorrow.

  ●●●

  Sand in every direction, the team of guides directed the camels across the
hot, dry desert. The group of twenty men and women rode slowly, trying to control their animals. One woman, around forty years old, complained each time her camel spat. Her male companion laughed and teased her often, and she became more annoyed. Spencer laughed inwardly because it made the long ride go faster.

  Thirty yards from their destination, eager to get inside, Spencer did not wait for the attendant to have the animal kneel. She hopped off her camel, and at once her feet sank into the hot sand as she strode the desert wastelands toward the Pyramid of Khafre. The attendant explained that the temple of Khafre’s Giza complex is one of the best-preserved temples in Egypt.

  She felt incomplete, yet a sensation pulled her closer as the ruins came into focus, and with each step, her stride turned into a jog, which then became a run. She didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop for the mutilated shadows of the dead warriors, whose hands stretched out from the sand beneath her feet, touching her as she ran past.

  Spencer slowed her pace when she heard the familiar voice of the tour guide calling her name. No, she ignored him, she couldn’t stop, not now; she followed the tugging sensation that called for her, she just needed to reach it!

  As the sun burned against her shoulders, she sped across the scorching sand, eyes growing wide in horror as she realized exactly where the tugging was taking her. It was not the large pyramid she entered, striding quickly across the paved ground, but the small temple next to it. Her sandals clacked loudly, the sound echoing off the limestone walls. Her jaw set tight, her eyes glared as she reached the temple and moved past the crowd of tourists already there.

  Images carved into the walls lined the high hall. In the dim light provided by the slits at the top of the walls, stood as many as twenty four statues of what she assumed was a Pharoah.