by Eve Rabi
Taking my arm, he helps me along as we walk out of the bunker. I hear the main door open and feel the night air. We’re outside the bunker! “Where are we going, Reed?” I badger as he propels me.
He does not answer.
“Reed?”
“Shhh! You’ll wake the entire hotel.”
“Funny,” I mutter, feeling uneasy.
I hear Reed talk to the guards for a moment before we walk on.
“Are we there yet?”
No answer.
After climbing some steps and walking a little further, we finally stop and he removes my blindfold.
I blink rapidly to focus, then gasp. We’re in a small but beautiful Zen-like garden outside the bunker, where millions of stars in the pitch-black sky twinkle at me.
“Oh my God! Oh … my … God! This is beauuuuutiful!”
“Shhh!” He quickly puts his hand over my mouth. “I know you’re excited and all, but we have to keep it really down or I’m in trouble.”
I nod and fall silent. Never before in my life have I seen constellations as bright and profuse as I’m seeing now. “A shooting star! Look!”
Okay, so the shooting stars make me think of falling mortars, but I quickly silence my inner soldier so as not to spoil nature’s very own IMAX theatre.
“Gosh, look at them, Reed!” I say. “Gazillions. Wow, never seen anything like this in my life. This is … this is awesome!” My head jerks around in all directions to take in everything. “Just what I wanted to see.”
When Reed does not answer, I spin around to look at him, only to see him looking at me with what looks like adoration in his eyes.
I point upwards, then fall silent, overcome with the natural splendor I’m basking in. Splendor I always took for granted, until now.
Reed arranged this. Feeling really grateful, I pinch his arm affectionately. “This is magnificent. And you’re responsible for all this, Angel-man.”
“Not all,” he says, and takes both my hands in his. “The sky was already here. I just created the stars.”
I laugh and squeeze his hands. “Thank you, Reed. You’re very sweet to arrange this moonlight rendezvous.”
“Well, you wanted stars ...”
“Yeah, I did. Sweet of you ...”
“Sweet? Please! You’re ruining my macho image with that word.”
I giggle. “Nice! It’s nice of you.”
We walk further before he stops me. “Sit right here.” He helps me sit on the ground with my back against his chest. The night is balmy, the air filled with the scent of jasmine, and we bask in the brilliance of the night sky.
“Can you remove my cuffs?”
He gives me a don’t-push-it look.
“Mfff.” I pretend to pout for a moment before resuming my stargazing. “Imagine: I’m a prisoner in Iraq, yet I’m surrounded by millions of brilliant stars …”
“…with a handsome, charismatic man …”
I smile. “With a handsome, charismatic man. It’s almost perfect.”
“Almost? What would make it perfect?”
“Perfect? Mmm … I guess some champagne in a long-stemmed glass. Yeah, that’s ‘bout it.”
“Sorry, can’t help you there. But I can help with this!” He fishes under a shrub and draws out a tub of ice cream.
“Macadamia and fudge! Awesome! So that’s why you asked me to sit right here.”
“Shhh!”
I quickly lower my voice. “Boy, you’re amazing. Wow!”
He hands me a spoon. “Have fun while you tell me how amazing I am.”
Don’t need a second invitation. I dive into the ice cream and devour it the way a pregnant woman with cravings consumes. “Reed, this is great. You should try it.”
“No thanks.”
“Try it,” I say and put a spoonful to his lips.
“Not bad,” he says. Taking the spoon from me, he starts to feed me.
I giggle when he deliberately messes my mouth with ice cream. “You did that on purpose. Reed stop! You’re wasting good ice cream here.”
As I eat, we chat about things – his life and mine. Easy conversation, and we’re both very relaxed in each other’s company. He even talks about his little girls and his wife. When I hear the love and respect he had for his wife, I can’t help but wonder if my husband ever talked about me like that. Suddenly, I’m ashamedly jealous of his late wife.
After more than an hour, he flicks my nose with his index finger. “Past your curfew, kitty. Time to say goodnight to the stars.”
“Wait, I haven’t finished counting them. Let’s stay a little longer. Besides, I want to see another shooting star so I can make a wish.”
“Have to get back before I get into trouble.”
“Oh, okay,” I grumble and reluctantly stand up. Because of my cuffed hands, I almost lose my balance.
He’s quick to steady me, clutching me to him in the process. In fits of giggles and high on macadamia and fudge ice cream, I cling to him.
“You drunk? Maybe it was rum-and-raisin?”
I don’t answer. I’m too busy having inappropriate thoughts – what it’s like to kiss him.
“Megan?” His voice is alarmingly caressing.
“Yes, Reed?”
“I know what will make my night perfect,” he whispers.
“What?”
He leans forward, his lips hovering above mine.
I catch my breath. Will he?
Gently, he brushes my lips with his, then pulls away.
What the fuck?! That’s it? After he shared ice cream and the Milky Way with me, he just brushes my lips? I don’t believe it! I mean the kiss has this stamp of sweetness and probably something I would never forget, but still …
He smiles down at me.
“I ... eh ...”
“You at loss for words, Megan?” He chuckles. “That look really suits you. Turn around.” He blindfolds me again. I’m disoriented by that kiss and my brain has detached from my mouth, because no words come to my lips. Thank God for the blindfold.
I clear my throat, feeling a need to say something. “Reed, I’m … I’m still … you must not … kiss me like that. Again. For various reasons.”
“Okay,” he says in an agreeable tone of voice. “No more kisses like that again. Definitely not! For various reasons.”
I nod and we walk on.
“For various reasons,” he repeats, as he tightens his grip around me, forcing me to slow down.
“Why are we stopping?”
He cups my face with both his hands. “Cause I’m going to kiss you again, Megan,” he whispers, before swooping down to kiss me again. This time, it’s a long, deep, intimate kiss with a hint of possessiveness. “That was for various reasons,” he whispers.
The blindfold, the stars, the ice cream, and his nearness coupled with his glorious kiss turns my legs into Jell-O.
He’s looking at me. I can feel his stare and I blaze under his gaze. Thank God he can’t see my eyes. Something had to be said. Something appropriate.
“You’re not playing fair, Reed. You have me cuffed and blindfolded …”
“Shh! You’re ruining my magic,” he whispers as he places a finger on my smiling lips. He removes his finger and replaces it with another delightful and intimate kiss. His aftershave coupled with the faint scent of tobacco is masculine and heady and has me molding myself to him. Involuntarily at that.
“From now on, macadamia and fudge is my favorite ice cream,” he says in a husky voice.
“You’re one bad Arab; you know that, Reed?”
No answer.
“Reed? Are you smiling?”
I reach up and feel his face, pausing at his lips. “I’m feeling teeth … you’re smiling, you bad boy.”
He responds by kissing my fingers before slipping my arms over and around his neck, while he kisses me again.
Our walk back is punctuated by kisses and hugs, but somehow, we eventually reach the front door.
“Okay b
eautiful, time to lose this,” he says and removes my blindfold.
Blinded by the light, I shield my eyes with my hands. After a while, I childishly part my fingers and look at him through them. We grin at each other, the memory of the kisses still fresh in our minds.
I drop my hands and make circles on the floor with my toes. “Um … thanks for the magical evening.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” he whispers, tilting my chin to look into my eyes.
A sound behind us brings us back to reality. It’s Bygone muttering worriedly in Arabic.
“Relax, I’m returning her right now,” Reed says as he cuts off my zip cuffs and rubs my wrists gently.
His touch on my skin is light but delightfully seductive.
What if he asks to come in? What should I say?
Guess I could say something like, it’s late and I have work tomorrow. Have to let him down gently. Don’t want to hurt …
“Well, goodnight beautiful and thanks for the magical evening.”
What?! Was he serious? You mean, after all that, he wasn’t going to …?
How could he not? A short while ago he was looking at me with adoration, remember?
A mechanical smile plastered on my face masks my rejection. Maybe he was just being a gentleman. That’s a good thing, right? Maybe he is gay after all?
“Take good care of my baby,” he whispers and gently touches my stomach.
I nod.
“Sweet dreams, beautiful,” he calls over his shoulder. And then he’s gone.
I lie in bed and post-mortem my late night rendezvous. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to stay longer with me. I need to stop this crap. It’s fucked up, perverted, sick.
I berate myself for a good hour. Feebly, at that. In between smiling and hugging my pillow, and thrilled that he thinks I’m beautiful, he thinks I’m pretty, he can’t get me out of his mind.
Considering that I’m as round as a tub of lard and dressed in unflattering grandma clothes, that’s so … nice.
No, that is a miracle.
***
“Goooood morning!” I sing as I waltz into the ward.
Leeanne narrows her eyes.
“What?” I ask. “What? What?”
“You’re glowing and I’m wondering why?”
“She doesn’t look glowing to me,” Darla says. “She looks puffy. Like she’s eaten too many kebabs.”
Ignoring Darla’s acid comments, I rush over to a mirror and look at myself. I am indeed glowing like an energy-draining light bulb. Especially my eyes – so bright, so clear.
“Tell me,” Leeanne persists.
I tell her about last night, a censored version, and of course, I omit the kissing.
“You leading him on?”
“I’m not leading him on. He’s doing everything.”
“I don’t believe that,” Darla says. “You’re easy – like a crack hoe.”
“Why don’t you go fuck yourself,” I say.
“He’s a bit vulnerable, you’re a bit vulnerable,” Leeanne says. “Things can spiral out of …” She clams up at the sight of Reed.
“Good morning, ladies,” he sings, giving me a knowing look.
“Is it now?” Leeanne asks, both eyebrows raised.
All I manage is an equally knowing but bashful grin.
“It certainly is,” he says as he sidles up to me. Surreptitiously, he pinches my waist, causing me to squirm and giggle like an annoying teenager. The whiff of his aftershave evokes sweet memories of our secret rendezvous last night.
“You’re shining,” Leeanne says to Reed. “What’s going on?”
“I eh …” He strokes his chin slowly. “My moisturizer – it’s got glitter in it. Makes my face glow.”
My laugh is so loud, both Darla and Leeanne stare at me. Adequately chastised, I clam up and look at Reed, nervously twirling my hair with my finger.
We look at each other and burst into a fit of ridiculous giggles, annoying both Darla and Leeanne.
“I should be going,” Reed says.
“You should be,” Darla says. “Cos you’re making a jackass of yourself giggling like a girl. And that hussy there,” she jerks her head towards me, “she’s like, super annoying.”
Both Reed and I stare at Darla as we digest her caustic words. Then instead of getting somber or even mad at her comments, we dissolve into even bigger fits of giggles.
“Uuuuurrrrgh!” Darla says and shields her eyes with her hand. “Double annoying.”
Just before he walks away, Reed nudges me with his shoulder. “Later.”
I nod and grin like the cretin I’m becoming.
Leeanne folds her arms and eyes Reed walking away. “Is that the same grouch we met just a couple of months ago? He sure has changed. Coming out of his shell big time.”
“That’s cos she’s throwing herself at him,” Darla scoffs. “Look at her – acting like a hormonal teenager.”
“You think so, Darryl?” I ask, my voice oozing with saccharine.
“Don’t call me Darryl!” she spits. “I’m Darla, you dingbat.”
“Have you guys discussed the baby?” Leeanne asks. “Like, how you both are going to raise it?”
“Baby?” Darla says. “The baby is his? Oh boy, my book’s gonna be a best seller.”
Darla’s comment wipes the grin off my face.
“Well … both of us are not going to raise it, Leeanne. It’s his baby. After what he’s been through, I will have the baby and give it to him. My gigantic gesture of goodwill. My righting of my country’s wrong.”
Leeanne’s face is a mask of horror. “What the hell are you talking about, Megan? How can you make such a promise? This is a baby we’re talking about, not a plush toy.”
“Yeah …well, I know that.”
“What if your feelings about the baby change?”
“They won’t.”
“Megan, oh God, Megan, you don’t know what you’re doing! When the baby moves inside you, everything you ever thought and felt will be magnified and you will form such a bond that …”
“Women give their babies up for adoption every day, Leeanne; it’s no big deal.”
“Women who failed IVF three times? Show me.”
“You failed IVF?” Darla asks.
I rack my brains for examples, but nothing comes to mind.
“You’re twenty-six. Still young. You have so much to learn about motherhood and babies and …”
“I’m doing a good deed for once, Leeanne. I feel wonderful about it. I’ve triumphed over adversity and I’m not bitter. Look at me!”
“What about Damien? What will you tell him?”
“What about him? Fuck him! He’s a lying, cheating asshole and he’s divorcing me anyway.”
“Okay …what about your family? Will you tell them you gave away your baby?”
Now that has me stumped. “I … I ...”
“You’re a POW. You’ve been raped. You’ve had shock after shock. You’ve been subjected to a dungeon. How can you be rational with your thinking?”
“You’ve been raped?” Darla says. “By whom?”
“Leeanne stop!” I cry as tears spill down my cheeks. “Leave me alone!” I turn on my heels and run off.
“My book … wow!” Darla rubs her hands with glee. “That hoe’s goin’ doooown!”
“Shut up, Darryl!” I hear Leeanne saying.
“Don’t call me Darryl. It’s Darla, you bantam!”
***
In spite of Leeanne’s repeated reality checks and Darla’s meanness, my days and nights are a blur and all I can think of is Reed. It’s a heady sensation, an almost hypnotic state. Common sense doesn’t prevail. I’m fully aware of that and I don’t give a crap. I just want to be with him.
Sometimes, when I hand him stuff in the ward, he surreptitiously touches my hand and I know it’s not an accident. Other times as I’m talking to him, I lose my train of thought and we both lose ourselves in each other’s smile. Like teenagers
, and I love the feeling.
Guess Bread was right – love is always seventeen. Did I just say “Love?”
Scratch that.
Chapter Nineteen
Reed’s hanging up an IV therapy drip when I waddle up to him. “Hey, beautiful!” he whispers in a voice that caresses. “Was wondering where you were.”
“You were?”
“Yes, I miss you and your laughter when you’re not around.”
Oh Yeah? Tell me more, tell me more!
I smile. “Where’s Leeanne?”
“Don’t know. Maybe she ran off with Bygone.”
I cock my head to one side. “You’re full of crap, you know that? Why –” Suddenly, I gasp and hold my stomach.
“Megan?!” He drops what he’s doing and rushes over to me, concern all over his face. “What’s wrong, baby? Are you in pain?” The endearment slipped out.
Some of the patients also rush over to me.
“Infidel, she lose baby!” one of them yells. “Infidel lose baby!”
Stunned by his words, I stare at him as more people gather around with worried looks on their faces.
“Megan?” Reed says, hunching before me. “What’s wrong? Are you having pains?”
“No, no, no Reed. The baby kicked. Really hard!”
“Kicked?”
I nod.
“No pains?”
“No.”
His shoulders relax and he smiles. When I smile too, everyone around us visibly relaxes and their relief is tangible.
“Wow!” Reed says. “That’s great.”
“Yeah. You asked me a question and I said ‘why’– there it is! What a kick! Oh my God!”
Reed’s eyes are shining, his grin huge.
“Whenever I say the word, ‘why’– there it is again!” I laugh.
“Can I say it?”
“Sure.”
Just as he is about to say it, Omar enters the ward, followed by men with rifles.
Reed’s face falls and he gives a disappointed shrug.
I surreptitiously place my hand on his. “Later, okay?”
He nods reluctantly and squeezes my hand.
“I’ll wait for you.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
He walks backwards for a while, a big grin on his face. “Wait for me, now!” he mouths before he turns and runs off.
I shower and crawl into bed. As I lie waiting for Reed, I think about the baby, and I’m loath to admit – the feeling of a life inside of me is such a powerful, intense feeling. Sad, but lovely. Almost wonderful. My mind drifts back to my most recent conversation with Leeanne. She told me in no uncertain terms that I am making a huge mistake by giving up the baby. What if she’s right?
