Even if I accept what she told me, if Khaldun really exists, does that mean she can never be mine? Am I putting my life at risk for her? I can fight for her against the whole world, but I can’t fight against creatures I can’t see. It’s hard for me to conceive of Khaldun calling her to the poolside and drowning her, to take revenge for her betrayal. Am I risking her life with my love, or is it my life that’s in danger? My mind is getting clouded with confusion.
My whole afternoon goes by, in conferences about new business prospects and upcoming Green Homes projects. The whole day, I’m wondering what she’s doing. If she isn’t delusional, is she going to meet Khaldun again? I never asked what kind of conversations she had with him in the past. If he claims to be Kiya’s lover and sees Rania as Kiya, is she bound or cursed to love him back? The thought of Rania thinking about someone else, even an imaginary lover, is not a comfortable idea. I want it to be me in all her fantasies.
During one of the meetings, my mind slips to the Christmas party, how that old fortuneteller looked at Rania and gestured, as if she knew about all this. She did mention that she had heard about Rania already, and she called her Kiya. Were they secretly talking about Khaldun? Did that lady actually have the power to communicate with them too? I remember Rania looked somewhere behind that lady, toward the blank wall, when they were talking. Was that fortuneteller telling the truth?
Ah! Why am I even thinking about that crap? I’m not supposed to believe it. I roll my eyes. In the back of my mind, though, I know Rania would never lie to me. The story she told me might be a false one, and there is a chance that her imagination is taking over her real life. Maybe, the fear of falling in love with someone has created an imaginary world around her. She must be fighting hard to feel another man after Jibran. And truly, what Jibran did to her—if that’s true, then it’d be hard for her to fall for any man. He might have ruptured her trust and her personality, splitting it into real and imaginary life.
My phone vibrates in the middle of the conference, bringing me back to the present. I open it to read the text message.
Mr. Gibson. You are officially invited for a date tonight, with your girlfriend at Magots, around 7:00 p.m. I will meet you there. Yours, Rania
I read and re-read her text many times, confirming that she has actually invited me for a date tonight. I can’t believe my luck that she’s finally trying to move ahead with her life. She signed herself ‘yours,’ which means she considers herself to be mine. The message brings a wide grin to my face, and I don’t care if anyone is noticing me or taking pictures. I’m too engrossed in my phone, as if I can touch her through it. I instantly reply to her, though I’m being bombarded by camera flashes.
I can’t control my delirium right now. I’m enjoying this euphoric moment that you have blessed me with. Thank you for inviting me. Shall I pick you up? We‘ll go together. And yes, I am totally yours too. xxx
“What do you have to say about it, Mr. Gibson?” asks one of the reporters, holding up a microphone from across the hall.
“Huh?” I am totally taken off guard. Ali looks at me furiously, assuming that my mind is somewhere else.
Ali speaks on my behalf, eyeing me with speculation. “We have plans for building Energy Star hospitals and community centers in the same area. The details are not finalized yet, but we will keep the media posted about the latest research center, in which Gibson Enterprises is the major shareholder. We are still dealing with the Health Department, but the news will be released soon.”
I look back at him gratefully; he actually saved my ass. There are people all across North America watching on news channels and other media. I’m sure someone must have caught me smiling over the text message. Do I care?
Another text distracts me.
I can still feel those xxx over me, Mr. Gibson. Thank you for your unconditional love. I plan to multiply this xxx by infinity soon.
I shudder in sudden apprehension. Is she playing games with me to distract me from the conference, or is she actually missing me? Her message is arousing me. I shift my position so Ali can’t see my face. I look around the crowd; people are constantly taking pictures, and I am damn sure one of them caught the heat flushing my face.
You certainly do know how to sidetrack me from my work. Do you miss me as much as I miss you?
“Is everything okay?” Ali whispers in my ear.
I look at him, with my best smile. “Never better. It’s just that I can’t concentrate on anything but her.” I sigh and try to focus on the conference.
“Ah, the complexities of love. What can I say?” Ali is still facing the media, but his words are quite enough for me.
“I know I’m screwed!”
My phone vibrates again, surprising me.
More than you can imagine.
So she does miss me? I try to stifle my smile, but there’s no way I can hide my excitement. She’s making me crazy over the wireless. What will happen if, as she’s saying, she plans to demonstrate those feelings? I know she is very shy and modest, but the side of her that she’s showing me in these messages is making me wild.
Just wait till I pick you up. I can’t wait for this dumb conference to be over. I’m not even listening to anything. My lips can still feel you.
I start visualizing her warm body wrapped around me. I recall her moans of pleasure when I kissed her neck. I imagine the whole scene from last night, when she let me open the strings of her gown and exposed herself to me. I still remember touching her body, feeling the wetness on my fingers. Holy fuck! I am so damn hot right now! I loosen my tie; the thought of her is suffocating me. I don’t want to get caught in the awkward situation I’m in at the moment. Focus, Adam! Damn it. But it’s impossible to focus. My palms are literally sweating with hunger for her touch.
No need to pick me up. I will see you at the restaurant. There is a surprise. See you.
I read her text and rub my forehead. Why can’t she let me pick her up? What surprise is she planning to give me at the restaurant? Is there something else she needs to tell me about herself? She told me once that she is full of surprises. Now I can actually relate to what she was talking about.
You are killing me. What is it?
I text her instantly. I look around again, faking a smile, faking my attention to the audience.
Don’t be so impatient. You don’t need to kill yourself. The surprise will kill you, anyhow. And stop texting me and focus on your business. Bye.
I shift again to read her message. What could she possibly have to spring on me? The suspense is killing me. Time seems to halt. Why isn’t the damn conference ending?
“You okay?” Ali looks at me with concern.
I roll my eyes, trying my best to pay attention to what’s going on around me. I check the time. Still two more hours in this conference, and then I’ll see her. I have a one-on-one interview lined up in a few minutes, with the Tribune. It’s good that she has asked me to stop texting her. I would never be able to give an interview on my own, with that distraction. They want answers from me and not from Ali. I have no idea what the interview is all about. But I have to bring my mind back to the present.
The main conference is concluded, and I’m asked to head to the private meeting room, where a woman from the Tribune is waiting for me.
“Thank you, Mr. Gibson, for taking time for us. I really appreciate it. My name is Patricia Williams from the Chicago Tribune. I have come to interview the most influential businessmen in Toronto, and your name is at the top of the list.” She smiles at me proudly, looking at me from head to toe.
“Thank you, Ms. Williams. I really appreciate your praise.” We both sit, facing each other. She is setting up the recorder on her phone. “So what can I do for you?” I ask her, in my professional voice.
“I am sure, Mr. Gibson, that after this afternoon, you’re bored with the usual business questions. Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask anything related to your business.” She puts her phone in front of me. “I noti
ced you were not taking much interest in the conference.”
“I don’t know how you got that impression, Ms. Williams,” I reply. I can’t admit any lack of interest to the press—it could have an adverse effect on the projects. “These projects are very important to Gibson Enterprises, and to the people of Ontario. I have a great deal of interest in them.”
“Many cameras caught you, Mr. Gibson.” She chuckles at my behavior. “So shall we start the interview?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“You are considered to be the youngest highly influential businessman in Canada. Also, one of the most eligible bachelors. What do you say about that?”
I laugh heartily at her question, shaking my head. “You really want me to answer that, Ms. Williams?” I rub my lower lip with my index finger, thinking. “Well, I’m honored if people think I’m influential. Hopefully in a good way.”
“Regarding your generous donations, and the shelter Hope that Gibson Enterprises is running, you are certainly influential, Mr. Gibson. There are hundreds of people relying and surviving on your charity. That makes you very substantial and powerful, don’t you think?”
“Substantial; yes, because people have expectations of me, but powerful? I don’t think I hold any power, Ms. Williams. Have you read the book Les Misérables by Victor Hugo?” She nods in silence, so I continue. “It says: The guilty one is not the person who has committed the sin, but the person who has created the shadow. I don’t want to be the one creating the shadow. Many crimes in our society start from hunger. I want to wipe that shadow from our society.”
“Very well said, Mr. Gibson. Usually it is said that you feel others’ pain when you have also endured it. Is that true in your case?”
“Of course, I know what hunger is. I lived on charity for three years in my childhood. I know how it feels, Ms. Williams. And in my city, I would never want any child to have the same feeling I had. Fortunately, I was guided to a positive path, and didn’t become a criminal. Maybe God wanted me to help others.” I shrug my shoulders and speak matter-of-factly.
“In one of your interviews in the past, you mentioned you have never believed in God. You are altering your statement.”
“Yes, I am. I said I never believed in His existence. That doesn’t mean He doesn’t exist.” I smile at her proudly. She must have read my face.
“And what makes you believe in Him now, Mr. Gibson?”
I look at the phone recorder, thinking about what Rania once told me. “I believe in Him from the failure of my intentions.” I sigh heavily. “That means there is one power residing in all of us, who lets us fail, no matter how hard we try. Things don’t go the way we plan; everything goes the way He plans.”
“That’s sounds very different from what you’ve said in your previous interviews, Mr. Gibson. You always sounded strongly opposed to the idea of God. Is it something to do with the new relationship in your life?”
“Are we here to talk about Hope, or about my relationships?”
“We’re here to talk about everything but Gibson Enterprises. I’m here to interview the real Adam Gibson.” She smiles at me, observing and reading my every move. “So, Mr. Gibson, do you have siblings?”
“Yes, I have one sister and two half-brothers.”
“And what about your girlfriend, Mr. Gibson? There are lots of rumors going around about your relationship with the UN secretariat’s daughter.”
“They’re not rumors. It’s true. She’s my girlfriend.” I speak very confidently. Now that Rania has agreed to be mine, I can say it proudly. I don’t give a fuck what her father thinks. She is mine.
“But you denied it previously.”
“That’s because she hadn’t agreed to be my girlfriend.”
She chuckles. “You mean to say she denied being the girlfriend of one of the richest men in Canada?”
“That’s right. She’s not interested in my money. She looks at me only as Adam, and not the CEO of Gibson Enterprises. And that’s what I love about her.”
“So you’re confessing that you are in love?”
“Absolutely. No doubt about it.”
“That’s quite the news. Our readers will be delighted to know, although it’s not good news for the ladies who had their eye on you.” She gives me a genuine smile. “Are you okay to talk about her?” I nod in silence. “Where did you meet her?”
“Outside my office. She was there to attend a meeting.”
“And then?”
“It was love at first sight, actually. Quite medieval, I know, but that’s the truth.”
“On both sides?”
I laugh at her question. “Definitely not from her side. She pushed me away, actually. She didn’t like me at all.”
“She knew who you were?”
“My wealth doesn’t charm her, Ms. Williams. She is very…different.”
“There was a rumor that the party you gave for Greenway Advertising was because of her?”
“Absolutely. She refused to accept my offer of dinner. I had no other choice but to invite her with all her colleagues.” I don’t know why I’m even discussing my personal life with her. I know it’s going to hit the news tomorrow morning.
“That’s quite an amusing angle on Adam Gibson for the readers. You sound nothing like your previous interviews.”
“Love brings lots of changes, Ms. Williams.”
She chuckles at my remarks. “It does for sure.” She takes a deep breath. “So what are your future plans? Do we get to hear the news of wedding bells soon?”
“I think, if there are any future plans, my girlfriend should hear them from me first, rather than from other people. Don’t you think so?”
“I agree, Mr. Gibson. You said at first she refused to date you. Then how did she finally agree?”
“I had to take the path of friendship. We became friends, got to know each other. Spent a lot of time together. She actually taught me the true meaning of companionship.”
“That’s sounds very romantic.” She couldn’t help smiling at me.
She continues asking me personal questions related to my daily schedule, my interests, my hobbies, anything but business. The interview lasts for an hour, until her time has ended and she departs.
I check my watch and it’s almost time to meet Rania at the restaurant. I open my phone and text her.
I am on my way. I can’t wait to see you, my love.
I head out of the meeting room and am looking for Ali so we can leave, when I get her response.
I can’t wait to see you too. You sound happy. Anything interesting happen lately?
She can read my excitement over a text? How does she know me so well?
I had an interesting interview. The reporter only asked about you. I have confessed to the world how much I love you. It might be printed in tomorrow’s papers.
I’m not sure if she likes that or not. She takes her time in responding, till I’m sitting in the car.
I know you love me, Mr. Gibson. See you soon.
It’s not the message I was expecting from her. She hasn’t made it clear to me if she liked the idea of me discussing her with the media or not. She would never be open to talking to the media. But she didn’t complain, either, which means she must be okay with me doing it. I don’t text her back till I reach the restaurant. She has already made the reservation in her name. I look around the restaurant and it’s like déjà vu. My heart skips a beat. I didn’t connect at first that we were going to the same place I was last year, when I followed the music and experienced the most unforgettable moment of my life.
My phone buzzes again, distracting my imagination.
Déjà vu? Meet me on the rooftop.
Her message alarms me. How does she know about the rooftop? I told her about my experience, but I never told her the exact place it happened. She said there was a surprise, and since I have no choice, I head to the rooftop. I look around, but I don’t see her at all. Suddenly, I hear the same music. I shudder—it i
s actually déjà vu.
I see the same building connected to this rooftop. I have come here so many times after my first experience, and I was so damn sure that it never existed. What I experienced last year could have been my imagination. But if that was my imagination, then what is this that I’m experiencing now?
Just follow the music like you did before.
This last message makes me shiver. How does she know I’m already here? I follow the music, and climb to the other side of the wall and open the door. It’s the same spiral passage. It’s the same music. I look down and I see the same girl dancing to the music with shadows, and all the colored lights on her. I feel adrenaline spiking in me, and my heart starts twisting in my throat.
For one damn year, I looked for this girl like crazy, and now I can see her, dancing to the same music. I rush toward her, forgetting that the path I am running right now never existed. I don’t know which world I’m in, but my heart yearns to see who she is. I touch the floor; it’s made of hard concrete. I know I’ve been back here so many times, and never found this place. I just don’t understand how I can be entering this magical world again.
A Prayer Heeded Page 15
