“Good night, Rania.” Fuck me!
She disconnects the line, leaving me with hope. A hope of a journey to a magical kingdom with my enchantress.
THE DREAM
“Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me. No . . . stay away from me.” She was crying in pain but he was all over her, touching her everywhere, hurting her everywhere, torturing her everywhere.
“You frigid girl. You are as cold as ice. You are nothing but a wasted piece of dead meat. When will you learn to warm your husband’s bed?” He was drunk, pouring dirty words in her ears.
She tried to push him away. “I am your wife. Please have some mercy. I am having your baby.”
“My baby? A whore carrying my baby? I saw you talking to someone in my bedroom and you say you are the mother of my child, you hooker. Come here, you bitch, I want to fuck you so hard that you will forget everything other than your husband.” He pulled her by her hair over to the bed. “You fuck other men behind my back, and you defy your own husband. Where is that asshole, you whore?”
“Please don’t call me that. Show some respect. I swear there was no one in the room. I swear on my baby. If you think you made a mistake by marrying me, then free me.” She was trying hard to breathe.
“Free you? You think I will leave you so soon? I married a fool. I thought you’d bring wealth to me. You betrayed me. All you brought with you is this shit dead body with no heart.”
He slapped her hard in the face. She was crying in pain, trying to catch her breath.
“I will not give you my money for your drugs and other women—” She twisted away from him and tried to get to the door.
He grabbed her. “Where the fuck do you think you are going? You dead shit—”
“No, let me go. You are hurting me . . . ah . . .” She cried out, but there was no one to hear her. No one to come to her rescue. A man was fucking her hard, bruising her body, crushing her soul. She had no escape. She cried from her eyes and from her heart.
She didn’t complain, as she knew she was cursed.
THE CITY NEWS
♀
It is a beautiful Saturday morning. I wake up with a smile on my face; my conversation with Adam last night was quite interesting. I feel better that I made him realize that my leaving was not because he was a poor host.
The street outside my apartment is crowded with people going about their usual Saturday morning activities. Since the sun is out, I decide to go for a run.
There are many people in the main lobby. They are all smiling at me. That’s strange!
I ignore all the smirks and head outside. I turn on some music on my iPhone, put in the earbuds, and start running. A number of people stare at me as I pass. I glance down at my clothes, but nothing is out of the ordinary that I can see.
So many people are staring at me that I start to feel uncomfortable, and I finally quit my run and head back to my apartment. I am hungry, since my only dinner last night was the chocolate shake. As I eat a bowl of cereal I think about the coming weekend. It will be challenging, but I’m looking forward to it, especially spending time with Mike. Before he went away to his training, we saw each other almost every weekend, and I got really bored while he was away. He was always there to bring laughter to my life, cracking jokes and telling me about the people he encountered working as a cop. He’d even tell me about the criminals he interrogated. I love hearing his real-life stories.
And yes, there is Sunday evening to look forward to. I am giving Adam a chance. In one day, he has shown me so much kindness. I’ve never met a man like him. With everything the media has said about him, being a womanizer and all, he never treated me like that. I am surprised that he didn’t overreact when I told him that Ben pushed me into dancing with him. I hadn’t expected him to be so understanding.
I remember I promised to text him the location where we should meet. I haven’t decided on the restaurant yet. It’s hard for me to afford the kind of fancy restaurant a rich man like him is used to, and I don’t know what kind of food he prefers. Whatever pleases you, pleases me. What does that mean? Is he trying to say that he trusts my choice, or is he trying to tell me something else?
After breakfast, I decide to walk down the lane to Indigo Bookstore to check out the latest books. Meanwhile, I open my phone to send Adam the address of the restaurant. I’m nervous, though I shouldn’t be. It is not a date. Opening my phone, I am surprised to find a text message from him.
Time seems to be at a standstill. I am wondering if you know how to maneuver it. I look forward to seeing you. Thank you for putting your trust in me. Adam.
The message was sent around three in the morning. He was awake at that hour? Thinking about me? I smile to myself. Adam is very unpredictable. Within a single day, he has showered me with so much emotion, it is getting hard for me to endure.
I decide it’s better not to think about it anymore, so I search for the restaurant and text him the address.
Time waits for no one, you have to catch it, rather than waiting for it to pass by. I will see you tomorrow.
I head out to the bookstore. A cold rain has started falling, so I’m glad the store is only a ten-minute walk away. As I walk, I encounter the same gazes and whispers as earlier.
I know there’s nothing strange about my looks; I checked myself before leaving. But something is going on. I walk faster.
The bookstore is quiet and peaceful, not at all crowded. I pass the newsstand and I see a familiar picture in the paper.
SHIT!
The front page is filled with pictures of Adam and me. The headline reads: TORONTO’S BACHELOR CAPTIVATED. One of the pictures is from the meeting yesterday morning. I certainly remember that. But there is another picture of us sitting on the bench at the parade, Adam holding me by my elbow, looking at me with his intense eyes. There is a caption under the picture.
Adam Gibson spotted on Friday afternoon near Santa’s parade with his newest conquest.
How the hell did they get this one? It must have been taken right after my near-accident. I hadn’t noticed anyone taking our picture.
There is one more picture of us with a surprising caption. Toronto’s most elite bachelor is bewitched, and in an utterly festive mood.
Shit. It was taken during our dance, when he cracked the joke about my seventeen refusals. I am laughing heartily in the photograph and he is smiling at me with indulgence. I can’t believe I didn’t notice people taking our picture. I should have realized that it was a huge event and with a man like him, the presence of paparazzi was a given. I now realize why people have been staring at me all morning. They thought I was Adam’s girlfriend.
Oh my God, this is so embarrassing.
I quickly buy the paper and hurry home to see what the article says.
It is disappointing for all the young women in Toronto that our city’s sexiest and most eligible bachelor seems to have been taken off the market. Though Adam Gibson has always insisted that he doesn’t believe in relationships, a picture says a thousand words. If this isn’t a relationship, then what do we call it? The lucky lady, Rania Ahmed, is a graphic designer with Greenway Advertising. Although this is the first time Adam and Rania have been seen together publicly, the pictures make it clear that they are more than just acquaintances. Can it be that this girl is taming Adam Gibson, bringing him out of his high-rises and down to earth? Should we all keep our fingers crossed and hope to hear good news from the couple?”
Oh God! How could this happen? I’ll have to refuse Mike for tonight. I just can’t go out like this when people are staring at me all the time and when I know I am part of the headlines. Just as I think about texting Mike, my phone buzzes with a text message from Adam.
Are you okay?
I’m pretty sure I know what he’s talking about, but I text back:
Why? Your spying services are off today?
I was curious if you’ve been out, and if you noticed anything unusual.
I answer:
Yes. Unusual and unexpected. Now I know what you are talking about. How about you?
How about you? What kind of silly question is that to ask him? Why can’t I think before typing? He has always been a head-turning charmer. There is nothing new about it. I wait impatiently for his message.
I’m not talking about myself. Just wanted to know if you are upset about all the gossip.
He knows how to show concern, even in a text.
It is more shocking than upsetting. You come with the paparazzi package. I should have known.
Within a few seconds, my phone starts ringing.
“Hi,” I say, closing the paper.
“Hi, how are you doing?” He sounds concerned and hesitant.
“I am good, thanks, and—”
“Are you upset?” he raises his voice a bit.
“I told you. It was more shocking than upsetting.”
“But upsetting too?” He sounds really nervous. Why is he nervous? I am not biting him.
“Of course, it is upsetting. I was not expecting all this. I don’t know how I will face people on Monday at work.” I close my eyes and sit on the corner of the couch.
“I won’t keep you much longer. You need to go and get ready for your plans with… umm… your friend.” He doesn’t seem to want to say Mike’s name.
“I am not going anywhere. I changed my plans. We can still talk—”
“So, can we meet tonight? I want to talk about it.” I sense he is hiding something. There is awkwardness in his tone. I want to talk about it too, so I decide to go with his offer. I remain silent for a while and he waits for me to speak.
“Yes, I want to talk about it too. I will call the restaurant and change it for today. That’s fine with you?”
“Sounds great to me, but let me call them and arrange it. I have the information. I will send Ali to pick you up. Will you be ready by six-thirty?” He is calm, his voice gentle.
“Thanks. Yes, I will be. I will see you there, bye.”
“Bye.”
After hanging up the phone, I call Mike and apologize to him for not seeing him today.
In the evening, I hunt through my closet, not sure what to wear for the dinner. So many outfits, but I still can’t decide. Damn it! After some digging, I choose to wear a long-sleeved light pink knitted blouse, accented with copper beads on the neckline. I take out a matching scarf, and decide to wear a deep brown corduroy skirt. I change my clothes and give final touches to my makeup. Still, I’m not as attractive as he is.
Who cares! It is not a date!
I put my boots on, take my bag, and head out the door.
THE VERY FIRST DATE
♂
Rania has invited me to a Persian restaurant on Bay Street. Ali has gone to pick her up, and they should be here any minute. The restaurant is a low-profile one, but the atmosphere is warm and welcoming. Soothing Persian music blends perfectly with the ambience. Surprisingly, all the tables in the restaurant are private, each encircled with a wooden gazebo. I’m relieved, because we need to talk, and we don’t want to be bothered by strangers. All the patrons are seated on floor cushions, relaxing in the cozy environment, and the tables are at knee height.
I like her choice. I don’t care if the food is up to the mark or not, as the place is more than I expected. The walls are deep red, and the only lights seem to be on the individual tables. I’m pleased that she agreed to meet me today. Time seemed to stop when she left the party.
I am furious at the gossip columnists. I don’t know how Rania will react to all this media exposure. She didn’t sound angry over the phone, though. Or is she too kind to express her grudge against me? If I were to put myself in her shoes, I can’t imagine facing people at work, either. I will have to do something to protect her from this bizarre situation. I look at the pictures again on my phone.
She is something extraordinary.
I decide to enlarge our dance picture and place it somewhere in my apartment, so that it will greet me when I come home. I would also like to keep the picture at my bedside, so when I wake up in the morning, I will see her charming smile.
Fuck! What am I? Eighteen?
Even though I’m upset with the paparazzi, I am delighted that our precious moment was captured, when she was laughing delightedly. I can only adore her through pictures; she would never let me tell her how I feel. Her reserve is one of the things that attracted me most.
I’ve had sex with so many women, but none of them made me feel as good as I felt when I looked into her eyes, when she laughed innocently at my silly jokes, when she put her trust in me and let me see her cry. I will never do anything to damage that trust.
I am engrossed in my phone, gazing at her pictures one by one, when I suddenly hear her sweet familiar voice.
“Hi, I hope I am not late,” she says, putting her bag down on the floor. I stand up from my cushion and welcome her with a handshake.
“No, you’re on time. I arrived a couple of minutes ago.” I’m lying; I’ve been here much longer. How can I tell her that each second waiting for her felt like eternity? We both sit, on opposite sides of the table. She looks incredibly beautiful in her skirt and pink top. “You look…” So fucking hot! I pause and gaze at her intensely, looking for the right word: “magnificent.” She looks down, blushing. “Your blouse matches your skin.” She raises her eyes to mine, an unusual shyness in them.
“Thanks, but I guess I look famished. We need to order fast, or else I will die.” She changes the topic, avoiding my eyes completely. “Let’s order an appetizer first. What would you like to have?”
“Anything you like. I’m your guest and I’m here to be entertained by your hospitality.” I wink at her, relaxing back on the cozy cushions. She glances at me once and hides her face behind the menu. My humor makes her feel awkward. After a few minutes of hide and seek, she puts the menu down and calls the waiter. She orders bruschetta made on Persian flat bread with their blended yogurt, and fresh lime juice for both of us.
We sit quiet for a moment, each waiting for the other to break the ice. I had no idea how fucking difficult it could be, to talk to a girl when she’s the one to whom I want to tell everything I feel about her. She starts looking for something in her bag to keep herself busy. Finally, she takes out the newspaper and hands it to me.
“This is insane, Adam. How can they print pictures like that? There is no such thing as privacy? And who the bloody hell took this picture?” She points to the one of us on the bench.
I never knew my name could sound so good, until she said it. I smile at her annoyance and keep my arms crossed over my chest. Man, she looks so innocent when she’s angry. “Will you stop looking at me and say something, please?” She slaps the paper down and slides back with her arms crossed as well. I take my eyes off her to look at the paper.
“How you manage to look beautiful in this, I just don’t know. You—”
“Are you trying to tease me, or make fun of this situation?” She gives me one of her sharp looks.
“Neither. I’m just stating a fact. I can’t lie to you, Rania. Your eyes make me speak the truth only.” My eyes are as serious as my tone. She feels uncomfortable and shifts a bit on her cushion.
“You are not angry at the way they spoiled your reputation?” She unfolds her arms and rests one elbow on the table, her head on her hand.
“I don’t care what they wrote about me. What concerned me was how you would feel. Please tell me the truth.” She fixes her eyes on the table, her delicate fingers toying with the napkin.
Yeah, baby, there is a lot more you can do with those pretty fucking fingers.
“I don�
��t know how I will face people at work on Monday. This is all so embarrassing.” She puts her head down on her folded arms, hiding her face.
“Are you embarrassed about being spotted with me, and assumed to be in a relationship, or you are embarrassed because you had been turning down other men, and according to the media, finally ended up with me?” She keeps her head down, not saying anything. “Rania, please, look at me, and tell me how you feel.”
“What makes you say I push men away?” She finally manages to look at me.
“I was keeping count at the party, remember? I’m sure I can extrapolate from that. You turned me down too, so—”
“What else do you know about me?” She gives me a shrewd look, and rests her back on the cushion.
We are interrupted by the waiter, who brings our appetizer. She takes a sip of her lime juice, and says, “You keep telling me you can’t lie to me. Now tell me what you know about me. I want to know how your secret agency works and how deep it goes. We will talk about this paper thing later on.”
She is damn serious.
“Is this how you treat your guests, Rania?” I grin at her, trying to ease the tension in the air. But she stays silent, waiting for my response. “Okay, you want to know? I will tell you the truth. Obviously, I know where you live…” I pause for a moment and she rolls her eyes at me. “I also know where you work and other official details. I know you don’t drive, as you don’t have a driver’s license on your record. I know you graduated from Ryerson University as a software engineer, and later on changed your field to graphics and joined Ben’s company.” I pause again. “Nothing more than that, except that your… umm… boyfriend happens to be Ben’s son.”
“Mike is not my boyfriend.” Her eyes are burning. That is the best news I’ve had all day.
“He isn’t? But I thought… I mean, you acted like you’re very close to him. You don’t treat other men that way.”
A Silent Prayer Page 8