I’m a Busy Man, Habibi

Almasi estate, Cairo, Egypt, Present day.

“Bring me the child, tifla.” Amunet Almasi spoke the command to her daughter with the authority of the family matriarch. The old woman extended her arms from her recliner towards her daughter across the large living space.

The ‘tifla’ in question was in fact a woman in her early fifties. She huffed as she stood from the couch and crossed the living room, stepping over two of her own children to hand her grandchild to her mother. “Mother, I am much too old to be called that. I am holding my granddaughter and your great granddaughter.” She reached down to hand the babbling infant to her mother.

Amunet took Akila and only scoffed at her daughter. “Nonsense. I am your mother, Kesi. You will always be that unruly tifla that would talk a big game and then hide in my skirt whenever she got in trouble with the neighborhood boys. Despite never meeting your father, you somehow inherited his proclivity for mischief.” She spoke in an exasperated tone that didn’t reach her eyes. Her eyes shone with the memories of her, and her daughter’s, youth.

Asad Almasi spoke from his reclined spot on the ground, laying on some pillows. “Like how I inherited his good looks.” The arrogance oozed from his voice.

Amunet shut her grandson down. Her tone was judgmental and cold. “You’ve been blessed with your grandfather’s features down to his smile yet you lack his charm.” Asad sat up while Shani, her granddaughter, laughed at him.

“I have charm!”

“If you have so much charm, how come you haven’t given me a great-grandchild? Unlike you, Shani can keep a partner.”

Asad sputtered as more laughter from his younger sister rang out. “I just haven’t found the right one yet. And that’s not fair! Shani’s always been your favorite. Just because she’s a girl.”

Kesi chimed in. “Oh please, you’ve been ‘looking for the right one’ since highschool. You have the looks but can’t keep a woman for the life of you.” Betrayed by his own mother, Asad was speechless. He laid back down to sulk while Shani had now advanced to rolling around on the pillowed floor while she laughed.

Amunet chimed in, voice scolding. “If Shani’s my favorite, you certainly aren’t doing yourself any favors making me wait for my great-grandchildren.” She turned her attention to the baby reaching up towards her. She let the child grasp her index finger as her tone softened. “Besides, I have a new favorite. Isn’t that right, Ya Amar?” Akila merely babbled something in response. “I think it’s time I tell you about your great-grandfather.”

Amunet’s daughter rolled her eyes as her two grandchildren groaned openly. They had all heard the story hundreds of times. Yet none of them made to leave. Every time she told the story, some slight detail would change so they didn’t even know the validity of her tales. But she was their only pathway to knowing more about their grandfather/father besides a single photo of him, so they listened every time.

Amunet stared into Akila’s mismatched eyes as she remembered, the green of one becoming the rolling hills of fields surrounding her village and the blue becoming where the clear sky and ocean waves met in the horizon.

Morocco, 1973

Amunet walked along the bus station of her fishing village in Morocco. Though the village itself was small, certain times of year had it bustling with travelers, as it had a few scenic villas for rent. The village used the profits of these times, along with selling fish to larger towns, to survive.

Amunet’s job was simple. She would walk the station and bark for her father’s cafe, using her charm and persuasion to drive traffic to their shop. Her long black hair was straightened to perfection and she wore her best, albeit simple, dress. It was there that she met him. Passengers got off of the bus and flooded the street. She waded through the crowd, handing out flyers and speaking to anyone who would listen. Most didn’t listen but they did take flyers. They needed somewhere to relax as they vacationed and/or waited for the bus return in a few days.

It was there, in the midst of the sea of people, that they found each other. Or more aptly, collided. He rushed past her as she answered questions of an excited little girl who wanted to know exactly which kinds of cookies the cafe would have. His suitcase bumped her back and she stumbled and fell.

The first sign he was a semi-decent human being was that he stopped. This was hardly the first time she’d been bumped into and most didn’t bother to even apologize as they kept moving. It was good that he stopped, that way she could give him a piece of her mind when she stood. Shani gets her temper from her mother, but I always wondered where Kesi got hers…

That was when their eyes met. Most of her anger left her. Most. She paused. He was quite the looker. A fit young man, maybe slightly older than her, he had a chiseled jaw adorned with an even five o’clock shadow and from his mouth hung a cigarette. His full hair poked out from beneath his brown paperboy hat. He wore a loose shirt underneath a brown jacket. Cradled under his arm was a large briefcase. But the thing that caught her attention the most was his bright green eyes.

He looked to be making a decision. She could see him deliberating on whether or not to leave her there, as if he was in a rush to get somewhere. But after the two of them stared into each other’s eyes for a second, he made his choice. His nervousness vanished and he flashed her a smile that would have knocked her off her feet had he not already done so. Instead it left her breathless… until she remembered that he did in fact knock her off her feet.

He reached down a hand to help her up and she promptly knocked it away as she stood on her own. His confident smile read as smug to her.

Even his voice sounded confident, which ticked her off more. “So sorry, mademoiselle.” He had such a way with words.

“Don’t ‘mademoiselle’ me. You knocked me over, you son of a bitch!” She glared up at him, looking up into those green eyes. He kept the confident smile.

“I’m sorry. However, could I make it up to you…?”

“Amunet.” I always wondered why I gave him my name back then. “And you can make it up to me,” she took a flyer and pushed it into his chest, almost shoving him a bit, “by eating at my father’s cafe.”

His smile only grew wider. “Asking me to dinner already?” He always did have a joke for everything.

She huffed but had no actual comeback for his statement. She heard the little girl whisper to her mother “I think that pretty lady likes him.” Embarrassed and flustered she took the cigarette out of his mouth and tossed it into the water. “No smoking in the cafe.” And then she walked off.

Present

Asad commented from his reclined position. “This part always gets me. The oldest and easiest trick in the book, jida.”

Amunet paused her tale to look down at her grandson, the fact that the face she remembered so fondly was now smirking at her, and not the way his grandfather did, ticking her off further. “I was not easy! He was just that good. If it was easy you would have found someone by now.” He didn’t respond, and probably didn’t even hear her, because his mother knocked the back of his head for insulting his grandmother and Shani gave him a none too light punch on the shoulder. She returned back to the baby and her wonderful eyes. “Now where was I?”

Later that day, 1973

Amunet was now doing her second job at the cafe, borderline running it. After her mother passed, the shop had fallen to almost ruin before she stepped up. As a kid, she thought all her mom did was bake sweets and man the register, but she quickly found out she was the backbone of their life. Her father, god bless his soul, would be hopeless without her, even without the grief from her passing to weigh him down.

At the young age of fifteen, Amunet made it clear that she was running the show and since that day, all those years ago, not one person had ever questioned it. Some of the old men had taken to calling her by her mother’s name for the way she nagged her father. But where her mother lightly encouraged her husband to be productive, Amunet had no problem telling him off until he did what he had to do.

On top of her job waiting tables, she began taking orders and keeping the books. She cleaned everything that wasn’t the kitchen and made sure to keep track of anything that broke to make her father fix it. She also added and modified some rules. She ran a tight ship and it was made clear that any customer that wouldn’t abide by them was free to leave and never return.

The very first rule she implemented was a no smoking policy. She hated the smell but most of all it was for her father, who she had been trying and failing for years to get to quit. He would use the customers as an excuse. “To make them feel at ease.” So she simply made everyone stop. She had already lost one parent and his cough got worse by the year. To his credit he, for the most part, stopped smoking during the work/day hours, but at night he would still go through packs with the other men in town.

It was sunset and the shop was serving its last customers when the man from the station walked in, covered in dirt and looking tired with a cigarette hanging from his lips. But even fatigued, he had that damned smile on his face when he walked in and saw her.

Amunet had been wiping down the counter when he entered. Before she could address him, her father approached him.

“Sorry, my friend, but we are closed for the day. Come back tomorrow.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “That’s a shame. I was invited here for a meal by that lovely woman over there.” He gestured to her. Her father turned to look at her, shocked that she, the woman who’s turned down every eligible man in the village, sought out a date of her own.

She wasn’t having it, the morning anger resurging as she walked over. “Don’t say it like that. You owe me.” She gestured to his dirty clothes as she snatched the cigarette from his mouth and pointed to the no smoking sign. “And I’m supposed to just clean the mess you make in my shop?” She ignored her father mumbling under his breath, “our shop.” She could have that argument later.

“I apologize but I had a busy day and I rushed over here to make it in time after I finished what I had to do. But it seems I was still too late to keep my promise. What can I say? I’m a busy man, Habibi.” That fucking smile.

Amunet didn’t want to clean up after him but she didn’t want him to just get out of his punishment either, so she made an exception. She forced out a sigh. “Sit down and order something.”

Her father spoke up then. “Ya Rouhi, we are closed.”

She glared at him. “Not yet we aren’t. Your friends can wait a few extra minutes, alab.” Her father saw that she wouldn’t take no for an answer and went off to the kitchen, grumbling about how the oven must be her real father because she sure didn’t get that temper from him or her mother.

The man sat and ordered. Several minutes later her father gave him the food and told her to close up when they were finished as he walked out to see his friends. With not much to do until he left, she finished cleaning and then just stood off to the side, glaring at him. A few times as he ate the meal he looked up and met her glare with confidence. He would give her a smile and a wave before returning to the meal, causing her to glare harder.

Eventually, the silence grew too much and she asked him, “Why is it that you are tracking so much dirt in my shop?”

That made him stop eating as he swallowed and looked up at her. “It was for my job. Thought I saw potential in a plot of land, I was wrong.”

She knew that all the land around the village was owned by one person or another who didn’t actually live there. Just rented out the homes. “And what job causes people to dig up a plot of land that doesn’t belong to them?”

“I’m an architect.” And then he got a look as if he just realized something. “So sorry Amunet, I never introduced myself.” He reached out a hand from his seated position as if to go for a hand shake despite the fact that she was across the cafe, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. Purely a gesture to bait her into approaching him, she knew. The grin never left his face as he continued after a moment. “Oh, come on. I promise I won’t bite.” More silence and she glared harder. He put his hand down. “On second thought, I think I might be the one to get bitten here.” At that, he gave himself a small chuckle and continued to eat his meal as if he were alone and didn’t have a woman staring daggers at him.

He finished his meal and stood from the table. He produced a wad of bills and held it out to her. She said, “Leave it on the table.”

“Oh please, haven’t I disrespected you enough today? I want to make this transaction face to face, like a good customer.” With a defeated sigh, she walked over and held out her hand.

Not entirely unexpectedly, he placed the bills in her hand with one motion, using both hands to cup hers in the process. She jerked her hand away and he laughed as he proceeded to walk towards the exit. “For such a hard working woman, your hands are surprisingly soft.”

She ignored the comment and went about counting the cash, not putting it past this sleazebag to stiff her on the bill. She was surprised to find that he overpaid by almost double.

“Wait! This is too much.”

He didn’t turn around as he kept walking but she could hear the smile. “Consider it a generous tip to make up for my mistake this morning and tracking dirt into your shop. Until tomorrow, habibi.” And with that he walked into the now dark outside, disappearing from sight. Amunet set aside their interactions as one weird and bad day with the only silver lining being the money. She cleaned and closed up shop and went to her room to start counting the books for that day’s profits.

The next day

The man arrived at the shop in the early afternoon. He entered and greeted Amunet’s father like an old friend, even giving him a cigarette. Of course Amunet confiscated the nicotine but the damage was done. The man ordered a coffee and he and her father chatted the slow afternoon away as if they had always been friends.

He didn’t even say a word to her. Just flashed her that smile when he walked in and again when he left.

She knew it was coming. She felt it with every fiber of her being and yet she was powerless to stop it.

Later that evening, when they were closing up the shop, her father approached her as she wiped down the counter. She didn’t even look at him.

“You know… Ameli… he seems to be a nic-”

“No.” Her father nodded and went into the back of the shop. Curious as to what he was doing instead of his nightly hangout she followed a few minutes later and was surprised to find him going over their expenses. The first time in years he’d even looked at that book.

“Dad?”

He looked up from the paperwork. “Hm? Oh, Ameli, Your frie-” he stopped at the glare she gave him. “That man gave me some tips on how to save on some expenses. I’m just running the numbers to double check. You can go to sleep early.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Not used to having her nights free, Amunet did just that. I must have been running myself ragged. Father had to drag me out of bed the next morning right before we opened up.

The 3rd day

Once again the man arrived at the shop in the afternoon. After a brief conversation with her father, he sat alone at the table. After an hour of watching the regulars, he waved her over.

“What do you want?” She didn’t feel like dealing with whatever it was he had planned.

“Is that any way to speak to a customer?” The smile.

“Right now I’m talking to a son of a bitch who’s loitering in my shop. Should I call the sheriff or are you a customer?”

He chuckled. “You drive a hard bargain.”

She gave a slight smirk of her own. “A girl’s gotta make a profit somehow.” After the words left her mouth she realized that she fell into his rhythm. She wiped away her smile and returned to her glare. “Buy something or get out.” He could always get a smile out of me. No matter how mad I was at the world. Or at him.

“OK, OK. I’ll take a coffee and whatever the beautiful hostess recommends.” He gave her a wink. She made a noise of disgust and got the coffee while she told her father the food order. The most expensive thing on the menu, of course.

He watched her as he ate. Not that she cared. She went about her work, attending to other, more appreciated customers. But the whole time she felt his eyes on her. When he finished his meal, he waved her over. Reluctantly, she went over to settle the bill.

Once again he held out a wad of cash. Hesitantly, she reached out. Then she snatched the money from him, expecting a repeat of last time. Instead he stayed perfectly still and flashed that unbearable smile at her as he chuckled. “Expecting me to hold your hand again? Sorry Amunet, but if you want that again, you’re gonna have to do it yourself.”

She hated him in that moment. Hated that he had played her again. Hated that he had her on the backfoot at all times. Most of all she hated the underlying truth to his words. There was a slight disappointment that he didn’t make another attempt. What I wouldn’t give to hold his hand, one last time.

He left then and she finished her day of work. Later in the day, after they had closed, he appeared at the glass door and knocked. She sighed, feeling the now ‘usual’ annoyance rise up. She went up to the door but didn’t open it, just sternly pointing to the “closed” sign. He just smiled and shook his head, knocking on the door again where her face was.

She jumped at the motion and was about to open the door to give him a piece of her mind. But she stopped. That was what he wanted. Damned if she did, damned if she didn’t. He always won their interactions.

All she could do was stare at him, hoping she unlocked the ability to kill with a look while he stood there and smiled through the glass. Then her father appeared behind her.

“Calm down, Amunet. He’s here for me.” He reached past his daughter and opened the door. “I had some difficulties with his suggestions so I asked him to come help with the math.”

The man stepped into the shop, taking off his hat and flashing her the smile. “Sorry to disappoint, but tonight at least, I’m not here for you.” The insinuation that he would ever come for her stoked her flames. She wrote off both of them for the night and went to bed, laying there as she could faintly hear them talk about finances. She developed a plan to get back at him for all he put her through. Not much has changed. I still think of him every day.

The 4th day

She woke up in the best mood she’d had since she met that insufferable man. She put on her best outfit, one that really showed off her assets. She knew she was a beautiful woman, but this was the first time she was happy about that fact. He only treated her like that because he was attracted to her. She would use that against him.

The plan was simple. Tear down that ego of his and win. She would lead him on and beat him at his own game. Make him believe he had won and tear the rug out from under him.

Amunet decided to go with the tried and true. She brought out the same dress she wore when they met and ironed it.

Filled with pride from her genius, Amunet hummed to herself a song her mother used to hum all the time as she prepared for the day. Her father peeked his head into her room and she smiled at him. “Good morning!”

He just looked at her for a second, confused. “Amunet?”

“Yes?”

“Just making sure it was you. For a second I worried your mother had crawled out of her grave.” She giggled at him. “…I haven’t seen you this happy in years. Something good happen?”

“No. But it will.”

Her father then got a smile on his face. “Well I hope he appreciates the effort you put in.” he ducked around the corner as she threw a pillow at him.

“Shut up!”

She finished getting ready and set up the shop.

She didn’t see him once that day.

The 7th day

After seeing him for several days straight, the several days of not seeing him ticked her off. Especially now that she wanted to see him. To rub her seduction in his face, of course. Her fake seduction… of course.

Instead she had to deal with an influx of customers, keeping her busy for the last couple of days. Vacationers and regulars alike came to the cafe in near record numbers. Each came with a new story about the missing man. He helped one family with their child. He helped out around the house. He helped them with some something or other. To all of them, the man was a saint. And to put the cherry on top, each person said that when they offered to repay the man, he simply requested they get a meal at her cafe.

Quite frankly the cafe couldn’t handle the rush. It had never truly been full, even when three people ran it. Now with just two of them, they were being overrun. The first day they had the most people in recent memory. The second day, they barely got through it.

That night, she prayed that God would send an angel to help them get through this profitable, yet tough time. Instead he sent a bastard.

On the third day, bright and early, he appeared at their door. And of course it was the day I decided to stop dressing up in favor of comfort.

Her father wearily opened the door. “My apologies but we are not open yet my friend.”

“I’m not here for a meal.” He pulled off his hat and rolled up his sleeves. She tried and failed not to stare at his toned and hairy forearms. “I’m here to help.”

Her father simply hugged him tight. “You are the son I never had.”

The man chuckled and clapped him on the back. “I get that a lot.” Her father went into the back to start up the kitchen and left them alone. The man looked at her and reminded her how much she hated his face when he smiled. He opened his arms.

“What are you doing?”

“What? No hug?” She made a noise of disgust and went about setting up the shop. He called after her, “Not even a thank you?”

She hated to admit it, but his help was invaluable. Having another set of hands to wait tables removed major weight from her shoulders. And his skill at people-pleasing was top notch. He had such a way with words that not a single person complained when she told them of the long wait times or even messed up their orders slightly. It was like everyone in town was enthralled with him. Everyone except her. I saw right through him. I believed that everyone was blind to the shyster he was. Turns out I was the only blind one.

Present

Amunet poked Akila in her cheek, causing the infant to giggle. “Your great-grandfather helped me out a lot that day, Ya Amar.” She wiped away a tear as her emotions got the better of her. “He’s still helping me out now. Without that gawad I would have never met you.” She looked into the innocent eyes of the child, basking in her happiness of just existing.

A month later, Morocco

Her father was so pleased with the man’s performance that he hired him on the spot, even allowing him to stay with them and stop using the village’s inn as a living space. Since then, the increase in customers had been permanent, albeit not to the same peaks. People would come in at all times of day to just chat with the man while getting a coffee. Many of his admirers included women, who Amunet watched him turn down one after the next.

Amunet had been, and still am, furious at her father for such impulsiveness. What good and decent father allows a strange man into his home when he has a daughter? But she knew the play. To her father he wasn’t just some “strange man.” He was a good man, a smart man, and a friend. And the man her father wanted her to be with.

Living with another person after it just being her father and her for so long came as a rude awakening for Amunet. She had always been “rough around the edges” according to her mother. As a child she loved to play in the dirt and rough with the boys. The only reason she stopped doing that was when she hit puberty and the boys started wanting to play different games. But she still maintained that roughness at home behind closed doors, usually dressing pretty light around the house and lazing around when not out doing something.

All of that changed the first day the man lived with them. She had gotten out of bed, her hair a mess and what little she wore somehow still looked disheveled. Still half asleep, she went to the bathroom and met him on her way out as he went in. That woke her up.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The smile said it all. When they bumped into each other, it appeared he wasn’t completely awake either. But after a quick up and down of her body, the smile said all she needed to know. She shoved past him and hurried to her room, the first time in a decade she actually felt some sense of embarrassment in her body. He didn’t even laugh it off, or any normal way to reduce the tension. Instead he just called after her, “Good morning, Amunet,” and entered the bathroom.

From then on, she made sure she was proper as she wandered around her house. Years later she would realize that probably would have been a good way to complete her plan of seduction, but she was a young woman with pride and capable of shame.

The worst part about the man besides the smile and smug confidence was the lack of a name she could curse. He had been in the village for over a month and yet no one knew his name. He simply refused to give it, and the excuse he told everyone made her that much more infuriated. She had other women approaching her and begging her to just “be nice” to him.

His reason for hiding his name was a simple one and emphasized his interest in her. “The first person I met here was Amunet. It would be rude of me to introduce myself to anyone else before she accepts my introduction.”

Out of sheer spite, she delayed the introduction for as long as she could. But that didn’t mean she didn’t interact with him. She kept up the plan in the cafe and on the shopping runs her father made her go on with him. I miss those lazy afternoons together. She batted her lashes. She smiled at him and laughed at his jokes. Everything one should do to show interest. Inside the house though, she limited contact with him as much as possible.

He kept asking her out, and she kept turning him down, subtle like. Instead of flat out denials, she alluded to the potential for her acceptance in the future. That she simply wasn’t ready yet. Until one summer evening.

The two of them closed up shop together. One positive about him was that he was more competent than her father with numbers, making the tax and profit record keeping go by much faster each day, giving them more time to slack off. It was that fateful night when the stars aligned.

Around eight on that Friday evening, she got hungry and decided to go into the kitchen for a snack. It was then she saw him, sitting in the empty cafe, staring out of the glass into the village. He had a wine bottle and two glasses next to him. And he was smoking a cigarette.

For some reason she didn’t feel the usual indignation at his mere existence then. Not even the usual self awareness she had when they were alone in the cafe. She was calm.

She approached him from behind and snatched the cigarette from his hand as he ashed it. After putting it out, she stood there, looking down at him as he looked up with that smile. And for whatever reason, to this day she would swear it was to keep up the plan but truly she didn’t know, she smiled back.

She nodded to the bottle of wine. It was a good one. Her tone was playful. “I always knew you were a thief. Sneaking your way into my house just to steal a bottle of good wine.”

He returned the banter. “Perhaps. That was my master plan all along. Increase your revenue so that I can steal the good stuff. But wine this good would be a shame to drink alone.” He offered her the second glass from his seated position. “Care to be my accomplice?”

This is where she would normally tell him off. Where she would take the wine away or say something snarky and slightly inviting and lead him on further. Instead she took the glass and seated herself next to him instead of her usual across. She held out the glass and he gave her a generous pour, then matched it with his own glass.

She looked at her glass after taking a gulp, “Were you expecting me to come here?”

He didn’t look at her, just kept staring out the window. “Not expecting. Simply hoping.” He took a sip himself and flashed her a smile before turning back to the window. “And God answered my prayers.”

Several minutes passed before she realized that while he was looking at the night’s sky, she had been staring directly at him. She quickly went to looking out the window as well, but kept sneaking glances at him. He continued to smile, but something was off.

Then she understood. His smile was somehow different that night. It lacked the smug confidence and aura he usually projected. It seemed like a “real” smile. Like he was truly just enjoying being in her presence.

For the first time since they met, she initiated a conversation with the man that didn’t involve an insult or telling him off.

9:30 pm, same night

They had a pleasant conversation as they finished the bottle. She didn’t get angry at him once. She felt as if she was getting to know the real him, even if his answers to personal questions were still vague. It was a pleasant conversation about nothing. And then he asked her the question.

“Hey.” She looked over at him. “You wanna go for a picnic?”

She was so caught up in having fun that she accepted without thinking. “Sure.” He smiled back. The genuine one.

“Great.” And then he stood.

“Where are you going?”

“The picnic.”

“You meant now!?”

“Why not? No time like the present.” Without another word he walked into the kitchen. She followed after him, picking up the glasses and bottle as she went. Together, they joked around as they made a simple meal and left the cafe. She let him lead the way to a hill, a good ways from town but it was worth it. It overlooked the town and the sea as well as offering a quality view of the stars. They sat under the lone tree at the top of the hill.

Amunet remembered that she originally went to the kitchen for food and happily scarfed down her portion of the meal before blushing at the man’s laughter. As he ate his half, they talked more about nothing. She didn’t even realize how close she was sitting to him. They were not touching but she could feel his body heat.

There was a lull in the conversation and they went back to how they were in the shop. She looked at him while he stared at the stars.

“Why do you stare at the sky so much when you have a pretty girl with you?”

He continued to look up as she responded, his face slack with an unfamiliar clarity. “I travel a lot. I’ve been all throughout the Mediterranean doing jobs…”

“Architecture, right?”

That jolted him out of his stupor for a second, as if her words reminded him. “Yeah. You know how it is, people all over want pretty houses.” He went back to staring at the stars. “I’ve been to many places, seen many people and done many things. But sometimes I get homesick. That’s why I like the stars. They are the same no matter where you are.” Then a moment of silence. It was the realest thing he had said to her in all of the time she’d known him.

She ventured, “… And where is home?”

“Well, I don’t really have a home to go back to. Not after…” he trailed off. “But I’m originally from Egypt. Cairo, actually.”

“Always wanted to go to Cairo.”

He didn’t look at her. She didn’t even think he was speaking to her, just responding out of reflex. “Maybe I’ll take you there someday…”

A silence fell over the two of them for several minutes. He just kept looking at the sky. Kept looking… sad. She told herself she hated his confidence, but this something else entirely.

She reached over and placed her hand on his. He tensed slightly, returning to the present as he slowly looked at her.

“You… you uh. You have a home here.”

A weak smile. Devoid of it’s usual grandeur. “I thought you didn’t want me around.”

“I never said that. It just… took a while for you to grow on me.”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a long while. And then he started leaning closer.

That was the perfect time to enact the plan. But hindsight is twenty twenty. As his face got closer, the furthest thing from her mind was stopping the moment. Later, she would reflect and realize. Somehow he had won. She didn’t know when, But all of the talks they had, all of the times she flirted with him, she realized she enjoyed them. Not because of the eventual payoff of hurting him later, but because she honestly enjoyed talking to him and eventually learned to enjoy his company, even despite the infuriating smile on his handsome face.

But right before their lips met, he stopped and pulled away. “Wait. wait. This is wrong.” All the possibilities he could have meant flashed through her head. Was there something wrong with the place? Maybe his respect for her father wouldn’t allow him to do this. But as usual, his real reason was simple and incredibly infuriating.

He stood from the blanket and pulled her to her feet. Then he took a step back and a deep breath. And then the smile returned. The usual one. He extended his hand.

“You still don’t know my name, Amunet.” She lost the energy to fight with him. All of the pent up emotion that he just paused to have this moment clashed with the hatred and left her no energy to argue. She just extended her hand and shook his. “Nice to meet you ma’am. I’m Asad Almasi.”

The moment gone, or more accurately stolen from her by him, Amunet sighed and simply said, “Yeah, whate-” The moment was returned with interest when, using her hand to pull her in, and continued where he left off.

He leaned down and kissed her. The electrifying shock she felt was not tinged with as much anger as she had expected. Once again she had been dragged into his pace. Once again she was playing directly into his hand. Except this time, she was fine with it.

Present

“And after that, we went back to the house and-”

“Mother, please.” Kesi pleaded. But Amunet was not deterred.

“Made love.” Her child and grandchildren groaned at the thought. “Oh grow up.” She looked to her daughter. “Kesi, last time I checked I wasn’t a virgin named Maryam. You are the product of the love your father and I shared. Just like,” she turned to her grandchildren, “you two are the product of your mother’s love.” She focused on the mother of the angel she held in her arms. “Shani, how exactly did this little one come to be?” Shani just looked away. “Exactly.” Then she turned to Asad. “And yo-”

Asad interrupted her with a familiar smugness. “Jida, trust me. I know what you mean.”

“Do you? If you had half the skill your grandfather had, you wouldn’t have any problems keeping a woman.” Shani snorted as she began howling on the ground in laughter at yet another attack on her brother. “Now, where was I?”

Despite saying that last line, she got distracted as she remembered that night.

10:15 pm that night, Morocco

The kiss was… stiffer than she thought it would be. All of the suave confidence in his actions did not transfer over to his lips, almost as if he was still concerned how she would react to it. His arms had pulled her close, but they didn’t hold her, giving her the chance to pull away. She thought it was cute how his actions betrayed his true feelings.

Seeing and feeling him so unsure and afraid made her want to comfort him. She took it upon herself to press their bodies closer together. She reached up and pulled his head closer to deepen their kiss and she let out a low moan to let him know she enjoyed it.

His grip on her tightened then, though not as much as she’d like. He was still holding back for some reason. It’s not like with a face like that he was a virgin. Amunet had to push him a little farther.

She pushed him down to the blanket they had set up, landing on top of him. She eagerly resumed their kiss to spur him into action. He returned the kiss enthusiastically but still did nothing anywhere else. His arms stayed to either side of him as they made out in the moonlight.

Taking matters into her own hands once more, she reached over and grabbed one of his wrists, moving it down to her waist as she now balanced on one arm above him. She then dropped her weight a bit so that she laid flat on him. The hand she placed on her waist started moving the way she wanted it to, caressing her side and grippin’ her flesh beneath the fabric of her dress.

The hand began traveling down her leg and she tensed in anticipation, unconsciously lifting her hips towards the future contact. And then the hand was gone, the kiss ended, and once again he had left her wanting more.

His face lingered just out of her reach and she could feel his breath mixing with hers, the sourness of the wine entering her nostrils. He looked up at her, his eyes gazing at her the same way he looked at the night sky.

“We should stop-”

“Why?” Being blue balled twice had mixed in her anger with her arousal for the man. He was finally getting what he wanted and now he got cold feet?

“Because, I don’t want to do it… like this. We’re both drunk and… I just want to get this right, with you.” His eyes expressed genuine concern for her. They simultaneously stoked the flames of her passion and the flames of her anger.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

His mouth moved before he could stop it, almost as if the response was hard wired. “Only the special ones.” The second the words left his mouth he silently cursed himself. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You-”

She silenced him with a simple action. She slid one hand between their bodies and palmed his hard on through his pants. “What happened to the man from the bus station, huh? The man who called me ‘habibi‘ when he barely knew me?”

“That was before I figured out how wonderful you are.” Another sentence that made her nethers clench in anticipation and her heart pound. She pulled him into a deeper and more frantic kiss.

She whispered into his ear. “I need you, now.”

There was a shift in the mood as she could feel his inhibitions fading away. She prepared herself before once again he stopped. His breath was now as ragged and sensual as hers was. An improvement. “Not here.”

“What do you -”

“Your father won’t be back until the morning. We’ll do it back at the house.” His voice offered no rebuttal.

She knew this was another way for him to show her he cared but the annoyance of yet another delay in their union provoked her further. She couldn’t help poking fun at him while they quickly packed up the picnic.

“Am I not good enough to be had in the dirt like other girls?” she asked as she folded the blanket

He quickly walked over to her and kissed her again, this time being the more active of the two. He looked at her seriously. “You are better than that. Than them. You deserve so much more.” Another throb. Another pang of annoyance at the delay.

She had led the way, rushing through the streets until they arrived at the cafe. Once inside, she all but tossed the blanket aside and locked the door behind him. After allowing him several seconds to place down the basket, she dragged him up to her room and pushed him in.

They came together again in another make out session, Asad seemingly having no more objections. When they made out this time his hands roamed her body freely and hers did the same. They separated only briefly to tear off their clothing before reuniting, bare flesh against each other. She felt his erection dig into her. Then he picked her up and dropped her on the bed.

The act caused her to giggle until he climbed on top of her. He was back to his normal self, complete with the smug grin. Seeing it sparked something within her. The old feeling of not letting him win. She pushed him off of her.

“What’s wro-” the wind got knocked out of him as she plopped herself down on his midsection to straddle him. That was more like it. The surprise in his face made it all the sweeter as she looked down at him. She bit her bottom lip as she thought about what to do with him.

She decided to put that smug, stupid, hot face to good use. She held him down as she adjusted herself on his body. She climbed and turned her body around until she was facing his lower half. She looked at the man between her legs and offered a smile. “You better be grateful. It’s the best dish on the menu.” Then she lowered herself down onto his face.

There was slight resistance. But after situating herself on him, she trembled as she felt his tongue get to work. He had almost assuredly done this before as he quickly found all the right places to make her squirm.

His face felt perfect for this. His mouth worked wonders as his nose dug into her in just the right way. Even his beard felt amazing, the coarseness of the stubble adding extra sensation to her sensitive thighs. As he worked, she was free to bask in all of the pleasures he offered.

At one point, she looked down and noticed his hard-on. Partly because she lacked the coordination to stay upright with the wonders he worked and partly because she wanted to, she leaned forward until his cock was in her face and she was flat on him. This slight adjustment changed how she was situated on his face but he made sure to remedy that by wrapping his strong arms around her thighs, pulling her pelvis back into position on his face.

She felt his core tense as she reached out and touched his cock. It jumped at the contact, looking almost painfully hard. It was pitiful and she loved watching it. She felt him groan against her folds as she lightly wrapped a hand around it. Between her breaths of pleasure she was able to gather some saliva in her mouth and drip it into her other hand. Then, she used both hands to slowly spread it on the cock.

She had fun teasing him. She kept her touches light, letting her fingers glide along his skin with little to no pressure at all. His hips uselessly thrusted upward to get more stimulation. The way it throbbed all the harder when she blew on the tip delighted her. At one point she brought it to her mouth, letting the hot air from it cascade over the tip and increase his anticipation. And then she placed a single kiss on the tip and went back to her slow touches.

Even without real strokes, she could feel him start to throb harder in her hands. But he wouldn’t get to finish before she did. His mouth stopped its work as he was brought to the edge and then promptly left to suffer there. She chuckled to herself as she watched it strain to get any last bit of stimulation for release. As it went back down, she used a single finger to stroke, not enough to push it over the edge but enough to slow the descent from it.

He then got the message and returned to his job with renewed fervor. Pulling new tricks from his hat, he tightened his grip and had her all but screaming as she trembled atop him. And when she went over the edge he simply kept going until she physically pried her hips off of his face.

He looked down between them at her, the smile still there. “How’d I do?” Annoyed that the face was still there, she used her hand to quickly jerk the throbbing cock, smiling as that broke his composure.

After the edging, the cock erupted at it in her hands, covering her fingers in his hot cum. Returning the favor, she only stopped when he reached down and physically pried her hand from him.

A minute passed as they each melted into their afterglows. After the moment, she noticed the mood shift slightly back to how it was before, when he was worrying about her too much. She wasn’t having it.

Before he could say something sappy and ruin the moment, she reoriented herself above him again and lined him up with her dripping snatch. Then, she looked into his eyes as she sunk down onto it.

For the next several minutes she rode him like there was no tomorrow. She bounced herself on his cock while she placed her hands on his chest for support. She was content to simply use him as a toy, but any good lover was active.

He raised up until they were chest to chest and she sat in his lap. She never stopped her hips as she allowed him to do what he wanted with her body. He cradled her and made her feel safe and supported in his strong arms as his mouth left kisses and hickeys on her neck. The added care only served to push her into another orgasm as he squeezed her in his arms. Shortly after, she felt the warmth as he filled her in the same position.

They laid together after that, her head against his chest, their naked bodies sticking together with sweat and assorted liquids. A few minutes passed and she thought it was over until he climbed onto her. This time he didn’t have the smile, but looked at her with passion so she allowed it.

“My turn.”

The rest of the night he made love to her. She had to do nothing but lay there as he showered her body in love and affection. The next hour or so blended into a continuous stream of pleasure, and at the dn of it all they collapsed on the bed, wrapped in each other’s arms.

The next afternoon

The Amunet was the first to wake, finding herself in his arms. She pulled herself out of bed to get ready for the day of work. She left her room to go shower and do her daily care. She froze when she heard her father call from his room.

“Look who’s finally awake. He up too?”

Amunet felt like a teenager getting caught during her first time. An embarrassment she had long since forgotten filled her as she hesitantly responded. “… No. I thought you were going to be out all night.”

She heard him laugh. “I was.” Her face paled as she looked towards the window. The sun wasn’t hitting the hallway the way it did when the sun rose. It looked to be late afternoon. They must have been up longer than she thought. And he had heard them. Before she could apologize or make some other stupid comment he continued. “Don’t worry. We closed for the day. Can’t exactly run a shop without my two employees.”

“Thanks…” To escape from the situation she quickly entered the bathroom. As the door closed, she heard him mutter, “About damn time.”

Present

Amunet was jolted from her recollection by Shani. “Jida?”

“Hmm?”

“You said ‘Now where was I?’ and then didn’t say anything.”

“Oh. My apologies. Must be the old age. After we made love that night,” more groans, “we had a beautiful relationship.”

6 months after that night

Asad’s place in the family had cemented just how her father had wanted it. And no matter how happy Asad made her, Amunet always held some level of annoyance at him for setting her up like that.

Their life had changed very little. They still shared the same house, they still shared the same workspace, and they still had their flirtation. The only real difference was that Amunet had stopped lying to herself about how she felt. That and a few other, minor changes.

One change was her success in getting him to quit smoking the same way she reduced her father’s intake, persistence. Eventually, after enough times of her snatching a lit one from his hand or throwing away a box, he just stopped. He did try to do what her father did, but he did not have the same leverage her father had. No matter how hard she was on her father, he was still her father and had some level of power over her. This meant that while he drastically reduced his nicotine intake at her behest, she couldn’t stop him from going out with his friends and smoking with them. Asad on the other hand, did not have that luxury. She made it loud and clear that smoking was a deal breaker and he relented. That was their only “real” fight.

There were other fights, if you can call Asad purposely antagonizing her in minor ways to be fights. He would flirt a bit too conspicuously in front of the customers, he would make small jokes at her expense, sometimes he would simply just poke her and walk away, like a damned child. Sometimes he didn’t even need to do anything, just show her that fucking smile. But at least life with him wasn’t boring. And it wasn’t like being annoyed with him was a new development.

Not that life with him was all bad. Between all the minor annoyances there were good times, like spontaneous flowers or long talks about life or simple being together.

As the days turned into months, she started to notice him change slightly. He started to get jumpy. Sometimes she would tap his shoulder and he would get the same look he had when they first met. The look of being nervous and in a rush to get somewhere. Whenever she asked him about it he would play it off, but she could tell he was lying.

Present

As Amunet told them the ups and downs of their relationship up until she got pregnant, the stories she could tell in her sleep, her mind wandered to one of the few things she hadn’t and would never tell anyone in her family about Asad.

Morocco

On a night not unlike their first one together, Amunet awoke around midnight to find herself alone in the bed. Going down to the cafe, she found him once again staring at the night’s sky drinking a bottle of wine. This time with a singular glass.

“Asad?”

He turned to look at her, and outlined in the glow of the moon, she could see tears rolling down his face. “What’s wrong?”

She approached the table but he just went back to looking at the sky. When she sat down next to him, she noticed a third thing on the table along with the wine and glass. She looked at it and recognized it as a bus ticket. The date and time were set for earlier that very day. She looked from it to him. “Asad?” He didn’t stop looking at the stars. “Asad what is this?” She grabbed the ticket and held it up. The silence hung in the air as they held those positions. She stared at him while he looked to the stars. It lasted so long that she thought he maybe didn;t hear her. He startled her when he started talking.

“I thought about leaving. I was going to. I got up today with the intent to just cut all ties and run. But when I got down to the station, I remembered your face. I remembered all the times you got mad at me and how cute you look when you’re angry. And I remembered how fun it is to cheer you up afterwards. The satisfaction of gettin you to smile again.” He took a deep breath. “And I knew that if I left, you would stay angry. And if we ever met again, I would never be able to make you smile again.”

“I don’t und-”

“I’m not the man you think I am. I’m not an architect-”

“I know.” That got him to look towards her in surprise.

“You do?”

“Kinda figured it out when the gutters broke and you gave father the worst advice I’d ever heard on fixing them.”

“Then why didn’t you-”

“I figured you called yourself an architect to impress me. And by then we were already together so I didn’t much care. But what I do care about is this.” She held up the ticket. She wasn’t angry or upset. Just confused and hurt. “Why?”

“As I said. I’m not an architect. I’m a con artist.” The pieces clicked into place in her head. The swagger, the confidence, the people skills, it all made sense. But then that would mean he was- “No. I am not conning you, nor had I ever planned to con you or anyone in this town.” Then his face lit up with panic. “Amunet, listen to me. I’m a liar and a cheat. A bastard, a charlatan and whatever else you want to call me. But I want you to know that if there is one thing in my life that was the truth, it was when I told you, no, when I tell you that I love you.”

She didn’t know how to take that he just admitted to almost running out on her but she couldn’t find it in her to be angry at him in the moment.. He sounded desperate, almost as if pleading with her to believe him. She decided to push past that for now. “Then why did you come here?”

“I was running from something. Someone to be accurate. I stole from some pretty powerful men in Spain. Men more powerful than God himself. So I came here to lay low. But part of the job is to know when to cut and run. Staying in one place for too long makes someone like me… vulnerable.” There was a pause in his words. She allowed him the time to collect his thoughts as she stared at the trails his tears left behind.

“The original plan was to hide out here for a few weeks before moving on.”

“What changed?”

“I met this beautiful woman. She’s feisty and headstrong, but her heart’s in the right place.” He let that hang for a while. “I met you, Amunet. And for the first time in my life, I found a place I grew attached to. I felt wanted. The people here are fantastic and then you told me I had a home here and-” he got a bit choked up. “The stars were my home. They were my family. But they are so far away. For the first time ever, I had a tangible place to truly call home.”

Amunet didn’t know what to say. She had plenty of thoughts on the matter but none of them could form into coherent sentences seeing him like that. There wasn’t a single shred of his confidence left. He looked scared and alone. She felt as if for the first time she was seeing the real him. She went to comfort him. “Asad-”

“That’s not even my real name. It’s-”

“Asad.” She stated with finality. “Your name is Asad Almasi.”

“Bu-”

She pressed on. “I don’t care what or who you were before I met you. Asad Almasi’s been nothing but kind to me and my father. Asad Almasi is the talk of the town. Asad Almasi has the most beautiful and infuriating smile on this planet.” She reached out and took his hand in hers. “Asad Almasi is the man I fell in love with. Not any other version of you.”

He stared at her for a long moment in disbelief. It was as if he hadn’t expected her to forgive him. And then he smiled. Not the confident smile. Not even the smile from their first night. This smile held with it sadness, a guilt. It looked to be the smile of a man who thought he didn’t deserve the kindness being shown to him. But that same smile also held an immense amount of relief.

He leaned over and hugged her tight and she hugged back. And then he started sobbing and she just held him.

“I’m so sorry for even considering leaving you.”

“But you didn’t. That’s what’s important.” She waited until there was a lull in the tears. “And besides, even if you did, I’d find you to give you a piece of my mind.”

After a second he chuckled. “That you would.”

After that night Asad was a lot more free with his past. He shared funny stories of the things he’d done and they shared laughs at some of the ways he’d tricked people. She noted that whenever there were women in his stories, he would glaze over them for her sake. Not that I was that naive to believe I was the only one.

More months passed and their love bore fruit and Amunet was pregnant.

Present

“And that’s all there is to tell. Pretty soon after that your great grandfather got sick and passed away. I moved to Cairo after your grandmother was born and the rest is history.” Amunet finished the story to the now sleeping infant in her arms. She herself let out a yawn as her grandchildren clapped, one of them condescendingly.

Shani raised herself off the floor and stretched. She approached Amunet, reaching down to take her child. “Seems like both of you are pretty tired, I’ll put her to bed.”

Amunet shot Shani a glare, the one thing in her life that hadn’t waned with age. A childhood of receiving that glare whenever she was acting up caused Shani to pull back, confused as if she had done something wrong. Amunet held the child a little tighter. “If you take this angel from me I will disown you.”

Kesi stepped in. “Mother, Akila is her dau-”

“I’ll disown you too.” Just to make her point clear, she sent Asad a glare, but he wasn’t even going to try.

“If you’d disown Shani, I never stood a chance. Good night.” He left the three of them to decide what to do with the child.

After an intense stare down, both women conceded. Kesi went to bed and Shani opted to sleep on the pillows in case Akila needed something in the middle of the night. Having won custody of the child, Amunet relaxed in the recliner to join Akila in sleep.

As she slept, she dreamed about the last time she had seen Asad. The other story she would take to the grave with her.

Morocco, 1974

He didn’t know how they followed him to this town but they did. Men in suits, with guns, smoking cigarettes came into town looking for a man named Francisco. The name may have been different, but the description they gave matched Asad to the letter.

Amunet, being eight months pregnant, was one of the last people that heard because she rarely left the house those days. How she did find out was when one of the locals entered the cafe frantically, telling her boyfriend that he needed to hide. Asad’s face paled when he heard the person’s story.

After searching everywhere, including the cafe, the men set up shop in the inn, refusing to leave until they found Asad or got their money back. When questioned about how much, they named a number most people in the village could only dream about.

But no one gave him up. Days passed and Asad stayed hidden and the men grew more and more rowdy with their “questioning.” But everyone refused to give him up. In the short year he’d been around, Asad became a loved member of the community. In a small town, folks stick up for each other.

The town even secretly pooled their money together. A representative met with Asad and Amunet one night and said that the village collectively had just enough money to pay them off. But Asad refused their kindness.

“I know these men. Their type. You pay them once and they will never stop taking. I’ll straighten things out.” His voice sounded cool and colleted.

“But they want you-.”

“They want their money. So I’ll give it to them.” Asad corrected her. Then he went into their room to get changed.

Amunet followed him to the room and questioned him. Why not just let the town pay or to run away again? He just casually replied while he got dressed. “That would only cause more problems for this town. These men are like mice. Give them a cookie and they’ll ask for more. You guys are good people. I’ll go have a chat with them and have this straightened out by tomorrow.”

When he finished dressing he appeared in front of her and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Don’t wait up. It’s bad for the baby.” He was dressed the same way as the day they met. Complete with the same brown jacket and paperboy hat. He scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to her father.

Out of the pocket of the jacker he pulled a pack of cigarettes and pulled one out. He lit it and put it in his mouth, taking one long drag. After he exhaled he looked at her with that smile. That damned smile. But it didn’t reach his eyes. And then he walked out the door.