Anastasiia Mitchell - The Arabian Days

We both needed a place to meet in. Not the beach. The hotel hall. Right. A great place, actually.

I started thinking whom to send for him. The cook! Because it had to be the one Mum didn’t hate. Mum liked the cook. «A good guy,» she said.

The cook suited very well for the business. He wouldn’t tell Mum about all those things I would talk to Mohammed. And, of course, he wouldn’t tell Mum that Mohammed and me were seeing each other in the hall!

30 July 1972

Agadir, Morocco

The next day, when we were having breakfast, I came up to Rashid (that was the cook’s name) and told him I wanted to see Mohammed at hall in the evening due to my situation. Mum didn’t notice anything, so it was all right for me to talk to Rashid. She was looking at what she had in her plate at the time.

From now on, we went to the beach only in the evening, when it was someone else’s shift, not Mohammed’s. And in the afternoon, we were enjoying the sun in the swimming pool.

I knew Mum was taking care of me, so I wasn’t against. She loved me, so I didn’t blame her for her actions in any way.

So, I spoke to Rashid. He promised to tell Mohammed that we would be meeting in the hall every evening, before I went home, back to England.

I told him I’d be waiting for Mohammed in the hall. As for Mum, I told her I would love to read a book in the hall. There were some indeed. In English, of course. I don’t understand any other language. Maybe I’m nuts. I should’ve learnt one.

Mohammed agreed. He was free in the evening anyway. I was looking forward for the first meeting in the hall. In fact, it was our second tete-a-tete conversation.

Mum agreed to let me go to the hall. I told her I felt lonely, so a book in English would do no harm.

8.

I put on my best dress. Although it wasn’t a dress but a T-shirt and breeches. Okay, let it be the best T-shirt and breeches. Well, I didn’t have another pair of breeches.

I was afraid. To be honest. What if Mum would notice me and him? That’d be a horror! She wouldn’t forgive me!

All the hour before our meeting, I was behaving like a stupid one. I was jumping around the room, singing a crazy song (I don’t remember how it’s called) and shouting something like «Ya-a-a-ya-a-a-a!» or «Cock-a-doodle-doo!» Mum asked what the matter was with me and why I was singing and shouting all that jazz. I answered that I’d just had a sleepless night. Mum told me I would better take a sleeping pill every night. But it’s bad for our health!

Finally, the hour was struck. I went downstairs (though there were only five stairs that separated our floor from the hall!).

I sat. Nobody. Even the receptionist had left somewhere.

I waited for some time. Nobody.

I thought, «And if Rashid and Mohammed have just decided to play a trick on me? That’s be the last thing for me to do to anyone!»

Perhaps, they were even laughing at me. Maybe, saying something like, «Well, this stupid fool has fallen in love with you, Mohammed. How bad of her! She doesn’t even know the rules of conduct and etiquette in our country!»

But… how could I know them? I wasn’t even taught them on arriving to this country! The travel agent should have taught Mum and me some simple rules! But they hadn’t! They didn’t even care about how we would do in this or that situation, or what should we say when someone unknown approached us. They didn’t even care!

I heard some steps. It was not him, though.

I waited for some more time.

And here he came. He was wearing a T-shirt as well. And jeans, not breeches.

«Hello,» he said. «You wanted to see me, right?»

«Hey! Weren’t you willing to see me?»

«I? Of course,» he smiled.

I smiled too.

«But… You’re so magnificent I can’t find words to describe you.»

«Oh, thank you very much!»

«Don’t speak!» he interrupted. «Just listen to our hearts beating!»

I was startled. I said nothing.

«Ha-ha, don’t worry! These were the words for you!»

«Thank you!» I blushed.

«So, how’s your life? What did you do today?»

«Well, nothing special. What about you?»

«Working, as usual.»

Then, he looked straight into my eyes! Oh my God, how beautiful his eyes were! The brown iris with a big black sphere inside. My God, how I admire him!

He took my hand.

Fortunately, there was no one in the hall at the time.

«I love you,» he said, smiling.

«Mohammed, thank you very much for the confession! I love you too! I was too shy to tell you about that! I was afraid you’d laugh at me!»

«Hmm, laugh at what?»

«At my words. And at me.»

«My dear… err… Janet, I will never laugh at you. You should know that.»

«Thank you very much! Let’s talk about something!»

«Let’s talk,» he said. «And about what?»

«About anything you like.»

«Okay. You choose.»

«So, o-o-okay,» I muttered. «Let’s talk about books.»

«Books?» he was surprised.

«Yes!»

«All right, then.»

I said, «I wonder what books you read. You must be so well-read! So, do you read any philosophical books devoted to everyday problems?»

«Oh, well, I’ve read… maybe, one or two books when I was young.»

«And what about now?»

«Now I don’t read any.»

«Oh, why?» I asked, my eyes wide opened.

«Because I’m not interested in reading. And I don’t have time for that because I work all the time.»

«I can see now. You must be very tired?»

«Not that much, but still…»

«I understand you very well. I myself am exhausted.»

«Why?»

«Because I study at university. And I need rest.»

«Rest from what?»

«From my studies.»

«But it’s amazing that you study at university!»

«Yes, but…»

«But what?»

«You need to work hard to get good marks.»

«And who doesn’t? Who doesn’t need to work hard nowadays?» he chuckled.

«Yes, you’re right. Now, everyone must work hard.»

«But look at this from the other side. You… you are the reason why I open my eyes and why I’m happy!»

«Oh, Mohammed, you’re saying such beautiful words!» I laughed.

«And I’m happy I make you laugh. I’m happy that I make YOU happy.»

He smiled. It seemed like I was now on the top of the world!

Then, we both fell silent. And so we sat until I had to go home. For how long had I been staying in the hall..?

«My Mohammed, I must go now. Mum’s waiting for me. And if she suspects something, I don’t know how we will see each other then…»

«No problem. So, tomorrow – here, at the same time?»

«Right! That’d be great!» I exclaimed.

«My love! I can’t wait for the moment I see you again!»

I ran up to my room. When I entered, the room, Mum said:

«Well, Janet, I hope you have found something useful for you. How did you spend your time there?»

Strangely enough, her voice was sincere enough. It meant she hadn’t noticed anything.

«Well, Ma, I’ve found some book, but not much of interest.»

«I see.»

«But, maybe. It’s better than nothing.»

«Of course, it is! And don’t get upset about Mohammed! You’ll soon forget him.»

«True!»

I pretended to be calm. I didn’t want Mum to know anyway.

«Okay, Ma. I promise!»

«My little Janet! Come to me and let me hug you!»

I approached my mother and hugged her. I loved her. She’s my only parent.

Dad left us when I was six. Mum and him divorced because of some property issues. I don’t know what exactly it was. Fortunately enough, I wasn’t the reason.

My best friend, Emma, has only her Mum too. And guess what – her father left them because of the daughter! He said he didn’t want Emma to be born. That’s awful! Emma’s a wonderful person. And I don’t want her to suffer. I’d be her best friend and dad at the same time because she doesn’t deserve a single-parent family. She’s good enough to grow up in a two-parent one.