Mediteranean Sunset

by Yvette Canoura

  “I love you Fatme, and I can’t bear to let you go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. I will always be by your side.”

  We kissed like it was the first time. We kissed for so long that we lost track of time. We kissed with the intensity of two lovers that fear that if they stop, they will wake up and realize it was all a dream.

  Every night, we would turn the house upside down, room by room, hoping to find answers. The closest we got was finding one of my father’s planners with some ripped out pages that might have uncovered the information we desperately wanted to find. We were very frustrated but didn’t give up hope.

  On our last evening in town, I made reservations at The Prime Rib. It was a restaurant where my parents used to go on their special dates. They shared this romantic spot with me when I was in my teens. Today, I wanted to share it with Brahim.

  When we got home late afternoon, Brahim surprised me with a gift. When I opened the exquisitely wrapped box, I found a pale pink gown.

  “I’ve never seen you in light colors. I thought pink would set off your olive skin and dark eyes, making you glow.” When he saw my expression, he paused. “Did I say something wrong?” he said, wiping my tears.

  “This was the color of my sweet sixteen dress. It was a magical evening. All these memories of my father just came rushing through my head when I saw the dress. It is truly beautiful. You’re so thoughtful. Thank you,” I said giving him a tight hug.

  “When did you have the time…?”

  “A man has to have some secrets.”

  “I’ll leave you to your secrets while I get ready.”

  When I saw him again, he was wearing a black pin-striped suit with a French blue shirt and a silk tie with pale pink stripes. My gown fit like a glove. We looked fabulous.

  Before we left the house, I set the camera on a tripod and finished the film. On our way to dinner, I dropped it at a one-hour photo place to guarantee the pictures would be ready in the morning.

  When we walked into the restaurant, Oscar, the maître d’, greeted us. He had worked there for over twenty years. He immediately recognized me and offered his condolences. Oscar had always been very fond of my father and was extremely discrete.

  It was crazy being in public like this, on a date, taking the chance of running into someone we knew. But we were thousands of miles away from Antarah, and just wanted to be a normal couple.

  Everything looked the same. The dramatic leopard-spotted carpet, the massive flower arrangements, the black and gold accents, and my parent’s usual table in a very secluded corner. It all brought back so many memories. The pianist sitting at the baby grand and the bass player were enjoying themselves creating the right mood for lovers like the good old times.

  “How do you like the place?” I asked.

  “It’s as you described. I can see why your parents came here on special occasions. Love is in the air. And, in case I forgot to tell you, you look radiant tonight,” he said.

  “You’ve only told me like a million times, but I love hearing it. Thank you, ayunnee.”

  The waiter brought us the menu and some mineral water. Oscar had already warned him not to bother with the wine list because we didn’t drink.

  We began with oysters and worked our way through a four-course meal. At one point during dinner, Brahim approached the musicians. Minutes later they were delighting us with some Sinatra classics. “Fly me to the Moon” played in the background while we sensually fed each other. Between bites, I would remove one of my shoes and stroke him between the legs until he got aroused It was a very stimulating game, anticipating what would happen later that night.

  “I hope you’re ready for tonight, you know what they say about oysters,” he said as he excused himself to use the restroom.

  “I’m sure it’s all true,” I said as he walked away.

  Seconds later a voice called out my name.

  “Fatima?”

  I turned my head.

  “Rauf, what are you doing here?” I asked in disbelief.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” Rauf said.

  “I’m in D.C. taking care of my father’s estate,” I told him.

  “My father wanted me to check on the embassy, to make sure the transition for the new ambassador was going smoothly. How long are you staying?”

  At this point, I prayed that Brahim would catch on to what was happening. I saw him starting to approach the table.

  “I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” I said.

  When I looked up, I realized Brahim was gone.

  “I was hoping we could spend some time together,” Rauf said.

  “You know that wouldn’t be appropriate.”

  “We’re friends aren’t we?”

  “Technically, I’m your best friend’s wife. I don’t think he would approve of us socializing without him present.”

  “Where’s your dinner date?” Rauf asked when he noticed a second placing.

  “She left,” I quickly replied.

  “You are all dressed up for a she?”

  “Fouad is certainly not here and I’m sure you’re not implying I’m here with a man,” I said, acting a bit upset.

  “I’m sorry if I offended you,” Rauf said apologetic. “May I join you?”

  “I’m actually getting ready to leave. My plane takes off early in the morning.”

  “Indulge me.”

  As he got closer to me, I smelled liquor on his breath.

  “How about a cup of coffee, Rauf?” I asked.

  “Waiter, a cup of coffee for the lady and a scotch on the rocks for me,” Rauf said. “So, what are you doing for the rest of the evening?” he asked, holding my hand.

  “Packing,” I said in a sharp tone, removing his hand from mine.

  “You know, Fouad would be very upset if he knew you were out in public without your scarf.”

  “I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention it.”

  “You are even more beautiful than I imagined. How did Fouad get so damn lucky?” he asked, as he sipped his drink.

  “Rauf, you’re drunk. Why don’t I call you a cab?”

  Seconds later, a young woman approached the table.

  “Rauf, I’ve been looking all over for you,” she said.

  “Missy, this is my best friend’s wife, Fatima,” he said.

  “Nice meeting you,” the woman said.

  “Likewise. I have to go. Please, make sure he doesn’t drive. I think he’s had a little too much to drink. Bye Rauf, Missy.”

  “Fatima, your secret is safe with me,” Rauf said.

  As I walked off, I wondered if Rauf was referring only to the scarf or if he had seen Brahim. I was very troubled by his remark. The maître d’ informed me that my companion had paid the bill and left. I took a taxi home. When I arrived, Brahim was outside.

  “I’m so sorry for what happened,” I said.

  “Was that Rauf?” he asked.

  “Yes, he’s in D.C. on official business,” I said as I opened the door.

  “Does his official business include making a pass at you?” he asked sarcastically.

  “Rauf is a big flirt. Besides, he was drunk. Are you jealous?”

  “What if I am?”

  “Rauf is a self proclaimed playboy. He might have a little crush on me because I’m forbidden fruit, but he knows his boundaries. Nothing to worry about, my heart belongs only to you. You’re so sexy when you’re jealous.”

  He pulled me tight against his body.

  “You like to play games, don’t you?” he asked as he teased me with kisses.

  “I like you to be protective of me. By the way, weren’t you telling me something about oysters earlier?”

  “I’m glad you brought it up,” he said leading my hand below his belt. “Do you like this?” he
said as he kissed my neck and started to unzip my dress.

  “My, my, I thought what they said about oysters was just wishful thinking. I guess I was wrong,” I said as I undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.

  I don’t know if it was the oysters or the incident with Rauf but something made me more desirable that evening. Brahim was on fire; we made love all night long. He made sure to let me know that I was only his.

  When morning came, I went to pick up the photographs. As I looked at them, I smiled. The lens had captured every delicious moment we were together. Suddenly, I was sad because I knew that we were going back to living a lie and I didn’t know how much longer Brahim could really cope with this farce. Now, everything seemed ideal because

  Fouad was out of the picture. But when Fouad came back, I knew Brahim would not stand the thought of another man touching me. I couldn’t stand the idea of being touched by another man.

  Brahim loved the pictures. We both kept one to remember our amazing time together. The rest were stored in a hidden safe that only my father and I knew about. It was even risky carrying that one photograph but we needed to have something to hold on to.

  We slept for most of the trip back to Antarah. We were exhausted from such an intense week and such passionate nights. The long journey also provided too much time to think about my father and the obscene amount of cash he had left behind. My mind concocted all the worst case scenarios. I felt betrayed by his past life and guilty for jumping to conclusions.

  When we finally arrived, we went our separate ways. That night, I slept with our picture under my pillow. I just wanted to feel close to him.

  Business As Usual

  The next time I saw him was the following day at work. Dalal was with me.

  “Good morning, doctor,” I said.

  “Welcome back,” Dalal said.

  “I understand you were on vacation. Did you have a good time?” I asked him hoping Dalal would not make any connection considering we were out at the same time.

  “It was very relaxing. How’s the baby?” he asked turning to Dalal.

  “Big and beautiful, thanks for asking. You look rested,” Dalal said.

  “So, are you ready to get back to work on our project?” I asked.

  “Most definitely,” he answered.

  “I’ll pass by your office later,” I said as he walked away.

  “So, tell me about your trip,” Dalal said.

  “It was nice being back in D.C. I was saddened by the memories, but at the same time I remembered many wonderful times we spent at the house. I did a little sightseeing, laid by the pool. Just took it easy.”

  “Did you miss Dr. Ibrahim?” she asked.

  “I thought about him a few times, but I was busy taking care of things, and there is no point in fantasizing about something that’s never going to happen.”

  “I guess at this point you are better off steering clear of trouble,” Dalal said.

  “Yes, I have my hands full as it is.”

  Little did she know I was already way over my head in a relationship with the doctor. I decided I wouldn’t share all the things that happened to me with any of my friends, especially Dalal or Jamila. The less they knew, the better off they would be. I didn’t want them to become accomplices to my sins if Fouad ever found out.

  “Have you heard from Fouad?” Dalal asked.

  “No,” I said indifferently.

  “Dalal, I need to take these papers to Dr. Ibrahim. Can we talk later?”

  “Sure.”

  I couldn’t stand a minute longer without feeling Brahim’s touch. I rushed to his office right before he was heading to surgery.

  “Hi,” I said, locking the door behind me.

  “Come here, habeebtee,” he said.

  “I couldn’t sleep all night, thinking about you.”

  We kissed passionately.

  “I couldn’t sleep, either. I need to be with you,” he said.

  “They’re waiting for you in surgery. Go. Find me when you are finished. I’ll be thinking about you.”

  “Me too,” he said kissing my forehead.

  Every hour that passed seemed like forever. I was having a hard time concentrating. All I could think about was our next time at the chalet.

  Three hours later, we were back in my office.

  “We have to stop meeting this way,” he said kissing the back of my neck.

  “I know,” I said as I turned to face him. “I missed you all day.”

  “Where can we meet to be alone?”

  “I don’t know. We might have to wait till the end of the week, when we go back to the chalet.”

  “I don’t think I can wait that long.”

  “Meet me back here this evening,” I said. “I’ll work late, and when everyone leaves, you can drop by.”

  It was a little past seven. Everyone from the day shift was gone, and I was impatiently waiting for Brahim. I heard a soft knock on the door.

  “Come in,” I said. “I’ve been waiting.”

  He locked the door and walked up to me. He pinned me against the wall with one hand and started kissing my face, neck and breasts while rubbing my body with his other hand. Then, he slid his hand under my skirt and proceeded to take off my panties and give me pleasure. As I moaned in ecstasy, he pulled me up and placed me on the cold, steel desk. I carefully unzipped his pants, pulled down his underwear and squeezed his naked buttocks, as he penetrated me. It was simultaneous gratification.

  Maybe it was the excitement generated by the idea that someone could walk in on us, but our lovemaking was out of this world and was only getting better.

  “Wow, how do you manage to make me feel this way?” he asked.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” I said.

  “When we make love, it’s magical. I can’t get enough of you.”

  “I feel the same way.”

  We held each other for a few minutes and got dressed. I opened the door slowly to make sure that the area was clear for him to leave. Afterwards, I went home and daydreamed about our lovemaking.

  We promised there would be no more physical encounters until that weekend at the chalet. It was a rough week, but each day we learned to restrain our feelings and be thankful that we had a place to be together again.

  That same week, I received a letter from Fouad, the first one in two months. He wrote everything a woman separated from her husband for months would want to hear; how he missed me, couldn’t wait to see me and hold me in his arms, and how much he needed and wanted me. It made me sick to my stomach. The only reason I read it was to make sure Rauf had kept his promise of not mentioning our D.C. encounter.

  He was probably so embarrassed over his drunken behavior that he decided to forget that evening ever happened.

  I finally went to visit Jamila. I had neglected our friendship since my involvement with the hospital and Brahim. It was just so difficult being around her and not being able to open up about everything like we used to. I also missed little Ramee. He had grown so much.

  “Hello, stranger,” Jamila said as she gave me a big hug. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a rotten friend but I’ve been so caught up in work, then the trip to Washington…” I said.

  “Apology accepted. How was it, going back to D.C?” Jamila asked.

  “Strange and wonderful at the same time. I was sad but all my memories filled me with joy. The best part was learning about the surprise my father left for you.”

  “For me?”

  “You know he loved you like a daughter. Here, this is the first of five yearly installments,” I said handing her a check.

  “There has to be a mistake. This is a lot of money.”

  “And it’s all yours. Enjoy.”

  “This can’t be. Oh my God!”
she started crying. “This is a miracle.”

  “I’m so happy my father shared some of his wealth with you. I have also established a trust fund for Ramee and all the other babies that will follow. You have no need to worry about their future. It’s all taken care of. Use this money for you and Nabil. Go on a trip, buy another home… Remember there is another check like this one coming every year for the next four years.”

  “This is enough for all of us.”

  “Just allow me to do this for Ramee and his siblings. I love you and I’m in a position to do this. Don’t fight me. Just know that you will have no more financial worries.”

  Jamila hugged me tight and told me she was already expecting her second child. This was wonderful news. She told me that her relationship with Nabil was everything she had ever dreamed it would be. I was so happy for them. For the first time, I could relate to this feeling of total fulfillment.

  “I have to ask, how are things between you and Fouad?”

  “Great, now that he is out of town.”

  “Seriously.”

  “I am serious. My relationship with Fouad is a dead end. I can’t accept his infidelities and he’s not willing to change.”

  “Yet, you seem so happy. Is anything going on that I should know about? Have you done something crazy?”

  “Of course not. How could I? Even if I wanted, it would be too dangerous. I’ve just made peace with my situation.”

  “You had me worried for a second.”

  This was another reason why my discretion was crucial. I couldn’t have her worrying about me, and I couldn’t take the chance that she would discuss my situation with her husband. My behavior might jeopardize our friendship and even endanger their lives. That was too big of a risk. After several hours of talking with Jamila and playing with Ramee, I went home.

  The visit had been a much needed distraction. The rest of the evening I thought about Brahim and gazed at our picture in anticipation of our next encounter. I fell asleep and couldn’t help waking up the next day with a smile on my face.

  A Family Affair

  The weekend was finally here and I was on my way to meet Brahim at our love nest. We arrived separately. Brahim arrived at the chalet before me. Trails of rose petals led me to the bedroom, where an exquisite piece of lingerie was laid over the bed with a note that read, “This will be an unforgettable day.” In the bathroom, a warm bubble bath surrounded by candles awaited me. I undressed and soaked as I heard his steps. With his hair slicked back, his body concealed in a robe, the fresh, clean smell of aftershave surrounding him, he kneeled down and started kissing my neck as he scrubbed my back.