Cairo and Israel watched as Lachlan moved to another section of the camp. Most of the people remaining were packing their belongings as the dig was scheduled to end the next day.
“I wonder has Lachlan decided what to do about the cave,” Cairo mused aloud.
“He doesn’t want it exposed,” Israel replied.
“He told you that?” Cairo asked, inclining herself to him.
“Yeah, he mentioned it the other day,” Israel commented.
“Wouldn’t it be amazing though, to cap off what we’ve done here with revealing original work by the original people?” Cairo beamed.
“It would,” Israel agreed. “But I think it’s more important that we honor his wishes,” he added. “We both know what can happen if the wrong people get their hands on it.”
“True,” Cairo conceded, “but what if the right people do? It could be a tool used for education, acknowledgment, understanding? Imagine how powerful those images are to those who could no longer deny the original Australians’ presence or their contribution?”
“I understand what you’re saying,” Israel replied. “Yet, what Lachlan said is valid as well.”
Their conversation was still cordial, yet there was some tension they both started to feel.
“It is,” Cairo sighed. “It’s just, letting the discovery sit there with no recognition, no acknowledgment, it seems kind of like a waste.”
“But’s its preservation, babe,” Israel reasoned. “And ultimately not our decision to make.”
Cairo sighed. It’s not that she didn’t understand Lachlan’s position or even Israel’s defense of it. She did. She just thought the matter could be handled differently with an outcome that could work for all those involved, much like the deal that was struck with the Australian government. regarding the same could be done for the cave. She didn’t want to argue though or appear to be selfishly focused. But it didn’t stop her from thinking about their philosophical differences when she and Israel retired to his tent for the evening.
“What time does your flight leave in the morning,” Israel asked as they settled in for the night.
“Early,” Cairo replied.
“Okay,” Israel said, trying to gain her eyes. “What time is early?”
“Like six.”
Something didn’t feel quite right. Maybe he was being hypersensitive, Israel thought as he tried to continue the conversation.
“Do you want to ride to the airport together? I mean, we can take the jet and leave when we get ready,” he smiled, again trying to gain Cairo’s eyes. She didn’t look directly at him nor respond to his trying to rouse her.
“What’s the matter?”
Cairo eased from lying on his chest and turned slightly away from him.
“Just tired,” she answered, sighing deeply.
“Is that all,” Israel asked, turning over and wrapping his arm around her waist.
She was silent. Cairo’s internal doubts and demons started to surface. Maybe it was the reality of being separated from Israel, removed from the fantasy cocoon they created and being returned to the reality that caused her insecurities to cloud her judgment. Maybe it was the dull pain she felt in her gut, reminding her of the problem that plagued her femininity and her life that made their disagreement bigger than it was. Maybe it was self-doubt masked as frustration that exacerbated the situation. Whatever it was, it was winning, and Cairo wasn’t the same.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Israel,” she breathed. “I just want to go to sleep. Okay?”
“Is that really how you want to handle this? I mean, come on, babe. We can talk about anything. What’s going on,” Israel asked encouragingly.
Cairo offered no immediate answer. She didn’t know what to say initially. This was the first time that the silence between them spoke louder than the words they said.
“Maybe, I’m frustrated about the conversation we had earlier. Maybe we should just go our separate ways and look back fondly on this time for what it was.”
The pain in her belly sharpened, and Cairo winced in response. She was glad Israel couldn’t see her face as she tried to smooth over the wrinkles in her forehead, resulting from the pain.
Her words were weighty and loaded. Israel tried to process what she said without reading into it.
“You mean the conversation about the cave? Is that the conversation you’re talking about?” He couldn’t think of any other point of discontent from earlier.
“Yes,” she quipped.
“You’re frustrated because we didn’t agree? Is that what you’re saying?”
“It shows how different we are, philosophically, ideologically. Maybe we’re just too different.”
“Too different to care about each other? To talk about it and try to understand the other’s perspective?”
“I didn’t feel heard,” Cairo muttered.
“Babe,” Israel crooned, placing a gentle finger under Cairo’s chin, and gently easing her face in his direction. He needed to see her, and she needed to see him. “I heard you, and if you felt like I wasn’t listening, I apologize for that, sincerely. I think it’s okay if we don’t agree about everything. We should be able to talk it through, share our positions, thoughts, feelings, and then agree to disagree and still care about each other after it's over. Don’t you think?”
It all made so much sense in Cairo’s head intellectually. Israel was saying all the right things, yet, it was hard for Cairo to listen. Her head was clouded with other things that made her feel not up to the challenge, not of conversation but of how much she actually cared about him and how he might perceive her if he knew the truth. She felt like she was deceiving Israel by not sharing her imperfections with him. If he knew, he wouldn’t want her. The fear of that rejection and heartbreak propelled Cairo to latch on to something she could openly discuss, openly be disagreeable about. Deflection was better than the truth. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes as her stomach tightened into knots of excruciating pain.
“I just can’t talk about it anymore.”
Before Israel had a chance to respond, Cairo lifted herself from him, then stood up as if to leave. Israel got up as well, determined to find out what was wrong.
“Cairo,” he uttered, trying to get her attention before she got too far away. She didn’t turn in response; instead, pushing past the fabric closure and stepping quickly towards her tent. Cairo couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They spilled recklessly onto her cheeks as she entered her tent. That night, doubled over in pain, Cairo cried herself to sleep. It’s not that she didn’t care about Israel, she did. She cared about him more than she cared to admit, which made it even worse. It was better to stop it before they were both in too deep. But that didn’t stop it from hurting.
Chapter Eight
Israel didn’t sleep that night. There were several times when he considered going over to Cairo’s tent to try and talk with her to see what was really bothering her. And even if she wasn’t willing to talk Israel wanted to be there to show that he was willing – to listen more than she thought he had, to discuss, if she was open to it, or just to hold her to let Cairo know that regardless of their differences, he still cared deeply for her. But he didn’t, respecting the space and distance she felt she needed. Israel didn’t like the way things were left with Cairo, and he didn’t intend to let it stay that way.
“Ready to head out, mate?”
Lachlan arrived early to help Israel disassemble his tent and to pack in preparation to leave.
“I just need one minute,” Israel said, turning and looking for Cairo’s tent. There was nothing there. The space had been completely cleared out. He turned, scanning the camping site looking for her. Cairo was nowhere to be found. A low sigh passed through Israel’s lips. He hated unfinished business, and certainly, Cairo was unfinished. Then, out of the corner of Israel’s eye, he saw a familiar silhouette, one he knew well. Israel turned on his heels, focusing on her. Cairo must have felt his eyes
find her as she paused before entering the car. Her turn to face the eyes that sought her out was slow. The thick of her lashes melancholy kissed her anthracite cheeks as she lifted them. Even over the expanse of space that separated them, their eyes connected. Cairo could feel the depth and penetration of Israel’s gaze even before his feet started moving in her direction. He didn’t call out to her, instead, communicating with her in the most intimate way. His stride was long and confident as he walked. There was a pull and a tug on her heart. She knew the uncomfortable feelings she felt and fostered between the two were because of her insecurities, her doubts, and questions. It felt like a false narrative, masking the real issue behind the one that was easy. But she had done it, and now Cairo decided to live with it as she broke her gaze from Israel and slid into the vehicle.
“Cairo!”
Israel stood there, his feet set wide apart, watching as the car backed up then turned, taking Cairo away from him.
“We can go after her,” Lachlan uttered, stepping alongside Israel.
He didn’t have to think about it long.
“Let’s go.”
Within minutes, Israel and Lachlan were in the jeep traveling the same road Cairo was on. There was only one place she was going. At least, that’s what the men anticipated. Lachlan maneuvered the vehicle like a racer on the speedway, easing around cars that moved slower in search of the one that held Israel’s prize.
“Got her,” Lachlan declared as the car Cairo got in came into view. Israel sat forward in his seat, the belt pressing against his masculine chest. He needed to confirm it was her. The morning sun offered enough illumination that even in a moving car, her profile was undeniable. They trailed the vehicle, never losing sight of it again, even when they arrived at Perth International Airport. Lachlan showed masterful navigational abilities as he kept in line with the vehicle, changing lanes when necessary as traffic slowed for exiting passengers. When Cairo’s car stopped, Lachlan parked the jeep immediately in front of it. Unbuckling his seatbelt in one swift movement, Israel was out of the car.
Cairo’s heart dropped when Israel opened the back passenger door. All the avoidance she tried came to a proverbial end as the man who made her heart beat faster stood there, waiting for her. Israel didn’t allow his feelings of unrest to keep him from being a gentleman. He extended an upturned hand to her. Cairo’s eyes traveled to his hand. She was hesitant. She knew the magic of Israel’s touch. Her soul craved even the slightest touch while her wayward thoughts fought against the power of knowing. Cairo could feel the repetitive fast pounding of her heart as she gently, carefully placed her hand in his. Israel’s fingers were warm and strong as he grasped hers, helping her to stand even though she wanted to resist. And immediately, as soon as flesh touched flesh, Cairo felt an undeniable surge of energy so much so that she gasped on a whisper while fighting the urge to pull away.
She didn’t want to look him in the eye. She already felt weakened by his mere presence. She also knew that Israel was waiting for her to lift her eyes to him. He was patient that way. Before she could, Israel’s hand came down over hers possessively, and he compelled her movement away from the door, closing it behind her. The movement of the people around them, the movement of the driver to the trunk, was mere background activity to the potency of the moment.
“I can’t let you leave like this, beloved,” Israel intoned, lifting his hand to her chin, and tenderly inclining her eyes to his, “not when we’re like this,” Israel insisted.
His eyes said even more than his words, and Cairo felt overwhelmed by the profundity of his unwavering gaze. Cairo’s eyes left Israel’s face for the flutter of a moment as she felt pressure forming there. Her eyes blurred with perpetual indecision. Which part of her would win, should win, her heart or her mind? Movement from the driver placing her bags on the curb behind Israel caught Cairo’s attention.
“I can’t,” she whimpered as her eyes clouded over with hazy sadness. Pulling her hands away from Israel’s, Cairo moved, retrieving her bags from the curb, and then quickly making her way to the airport’s entrance. Israel watched her as she moved, wanting to chase after her. Yet, he held his place fighting the urge. Whatever she needed right now; she didn’t want from him. Israel wouldn’t force it.
Cairo’s pace didn’t slow down until she was in the reservation line. If she could have forgone every stop between the door and the plane, she would have. There was such a low abiding pain in her heart as tears spilled onto her cheeks. Why? That was the singular word that kept polluting her thoughts as she moved mechanically through the process of getting through the airport. Why? Why did she allow herself to feel for Israel? Why was he everything she could have ever imagined a perfect man to be? Why didn’t she keep the protective shield up around herself as she had in the past? Why did she put herself, put him through all of it, when she knew she couldn’t hold up her end if he fell for her if she fell for him? Why was she broken? Why was her body such a failure? Why did God make her incomplete while still allowing her to feel and desire more even when she couldn’t? Why?
Cairo had to stop herself from spiraling, or she would break down right in the middle of the airport. She had to intentionally stop her thoughts and shift her focus to something much more mundane, like putting one front in front of the other as she stood in line to board the plane that would take her home. She looked over her shoulder more than once. Despite everything she was feeling and how she brought the situation on herself and Israel, Cairo still looked for Israel to be there, behind her, seeking her out, still trying to assuage the divide she created. But he wasn’t there, though. Maybe he accepted the messaging she continued to perpetuate even though it pained her to do so. As she sat down in her seat, gazing out of the window unfocused, Cairo tried to convince herself that what she did she did because she cared. She did it to protect Israel from being disappointed by her incompleteness. She did it because it was the right thing to do.
Israel was more than flustered by the situation. Even as Lachlan drove him to the other side of the airport where the private planes accessed their runways, Israel kept shaking his head, not fully understanding what transpired or didn’t transpire. He retraced his steps, their interactions, conversations, expressed feelings, the love they made – it was more than just sex, and Israel knew that. He felt that and thought Cairo felt that way, too. He played the last conversations over and over in his head, trying to decipher where his missteps were, what he did or didn’t do to push her away from him so abruptly. It didn’t make sense to him, and Israel couldn’t wrap his head around the breakdown, no matter how hard he tried to process it.
As he sat alone in the luxury of the Ali jet, Israel tried to shift his focus. He couldn’t allow himself to wallow in the mess of feelings he experienced. Much like his brothers, when other things were in flux, work was the grounding component. It forced Israel to concentrate on something outside himself, something he felt he had more control over.
“Mr. Ali, can I get you anything,” the stewardess asked, being careful in disturbing him.
“Louis XIII, straight,” Israel replied. It was his favorite cognac brandy and just what Israel needed to take the edge off.
“Right away, sir.”
Israel offered the stewardess a polite smile as he opened his laptop computer. He intended to review the most recent contracts his brother sent him on the next level of acquisitions for the company. Yet, Israel found himself opening another tab and typing in the search bar, Dr. Cairo Davis.
It didn’t take long before the page was populated with pictures of her. Israel sat back in the executive Italian leather armchair, resting his elbow on the cushion while balancing his chin against his fist. His eyes scanned the page, learning more about her than he knew. When the stewardess returned with his drink, Israel thanked her without lifting his eyes from the screen. He was enthralled once again, not just by her devastating beauty but by the expanse of her incredible mind. She’d accomplished so much, and Israel found his ch
est swelling with pride at just how remarkable she was. His eyes fell to another article touting Cairo’s work in the community. He sat forward in his seat, reading every word of the article, the work she was doing in inner cities, the work she was doing with young black girls introducing them to the wonders of archaeology.
He missed her. A low sigh passed between Israel’s lips as he scanned the page again. She was headed to Sacramento, California. He was headed home to Atlanta. Distance ended a relationship for Israel before differently. That decision was mutual, mature, agreed upon. This time, whether there was a relationship at all, was the question that hung uncomfortably in the air.
Chapter Nine
No sooner than Israel’s plane touched down, he got right to the business of handling business. His mindset on the plane remained consistent. He knew he had to divert his thoughts, and to delve into the business of Ali International was just the distraction and focus he needed.
“How was the trip,” Tareef asked as the Ali men assembled around the boardroom table.
“It was Australia, man,” Israel responded nonchalantly.
Tareef’s brow pitched high on his forehead. Israel’s reply lacked the flair his brother usually spoke with, especially after weeks of being on an excursion. Typically, Israel would talk incessantly about his explorations to the point of someone asking him to hold it down. Not this time. Something was off, and Tareef kept his eye on his brother. He would find out what was going on.
When Omar, the head of the family, sat down, all his sons came to order around the table.
“Is there any new business that needs to be discussed?”
“Real quick,” O’Shea replied. “We are in the final stages of the contracts discussed at the last meeting. Now that Basel and Israel are both home safely, we expect that we will have the final draft ready for your review within the next couple of weeks, dad.”
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