Unleashed

The stone laden streets of Old Cairo were cracked and dusty. A million pairs of feet must have trotted by that sweltering, summer day. One pair belonged to Gemma Weston. She stood at the entrance to the world’s largest bazaar as if she were waiting for someone to ask for the password. Women wrapped in vibrantly colored hijabs seemed to move effortlessly through the crowd. Children ran about, knocking over anything that stood in their way. Men casually smoked shisha at ornate hookah lounges, while sipping on steaming tea and eating pumpkin seeds. The cafes were full and overflowing. Gemma stood there silently taking it all in when an arm linked with hers. It was her fiancé, Ahmed Kareem. He smiled at her and led the way.

Gemma smiled to herself. Open, says me.

Ahmed pushed through the never-ending crowd and made the way to the first vendor in Khan il Khalili. Gemma had seen this place before on travel shows, but seeing it in person made it take on a whole new meaning. Egypt was a place she had dreamed of visiting since she was a young girl. As a travel writer, she finally made her dream into a reality. She had known Ahmed for a year, and he had proposed to her on a Nile River Cruise a week earlier.

“Remember,” Ahmed said, leaning down to her ear. “This place is huge. Don’t spend all your money in one place, and let me do all the talking. Try not to look too excited.”

Brightly colored dresses with Egyptian style adornments in gold were displayed alongside veils, statues, trinkets, and bellydancer costumes. Gemma’s face lit up with excitement at the sight of so many choices. Ahmed nudged her, and Gemma’s smile dropped. They moved along through the bustling streets, stopping at every vendor to see the wares. It seemed as if the street shops would never end. Row after row of side streets filled with gadgets, clothing, and accessories welcomed them. Red and yellow lanterns glowed in a lighting shop, giving a magical feeling to the place.

Being Egyptian, Ahmed was able to haggle with the vendors on everything Gemma bought. She collected a statue set of the Egyptian gods of the ancient world, several pieces of clothing, a collection of handmade jewelry, and her very own shisha. However, there was one thing that she desperately wanted. She spotted a vendor with only bellydancer costumes and veered towards him. Ahmed hurriedly followed after her.

The vendor was an older, plump man with a strong mustache and heavy accent. He welcomed her warmly and proudly showed off his selection. Gemma looked over the various costumes, but one specific set caught her eye. She reached for an angelic, white bellydancer costume with silver jewels decorating the bra and belt. Ahmed grabbed her hand before she could touch it.

“What are you doing?” He asked, curtly.

“I love this one,” she replied. “It’s so beautiful.”

“You’re not getting dancing clothes.”

“What? Why? I’ve always wanted one.”

“Don’t embarrass me,” he said. “We can talk about this in the car. You’ve got enough. Let’s go.”

He took her by her wrist and pulled her out of the shop. Stomping his way through the crowd, Gemma could hardly keep up. If he hadn’t been holding onto her wrist so tightly, she would’ve fallen behind. Back at the beginning in front of the cafes, he stopped and took the bags from her without a word. He hailed a taxi, and the two left Khan il Khalili in silence.

Arriving back at her apartment, Ahmed took her bags inside and stood next to the door.

“Aren’t you going to stay for a while?” She asked.

“I can’t,” he said.

“We’re engaged,” she said, sauntering to him. She put her hands on his chest and leaned up to kiss him.

“It’s not allowed,” he replied. “I am a Muslim. I don’t want anyone to think bad of you.”

“Bad of me? Who will know that you are here? The doorman?”

“I will go,” he said, aggravated.

“Okay. Do you want to tell me why you stopped me from buying that outfit?”

The silence seemed like an eternity. Ahmed stared at her, debating on whether or not he really wanted to go into this conversation at the moment.

“It’s for whores,” he said. Gemma raised her eyebrows. “It’s for whores, and I don’t want you to have it. You will be my wife. This old man is selling my wife a bellydancer costume? No, I don’t think so.”

Gemma did not respond. She simply looked at him in utter shock.

“Good night,” he said, leaving her alone.

                                                                 *

Ahmed came by the next day and brought lunch with him. There were different types of pita sandwiches. Some were stuffed with french fries, some with egg, and others with falafel. It was a carb overload. They were planning to visit the Great Pyramids of Giza that day. A satisfying meal was crucial. They sat in the living room while they ate. Gemma had placed her new statue set on the coffee table along with her charm bag of good luck stones.

Ahmed finished his meal in record time and went to the restroom. Gemma sat at on the sofa in the living room, eating her falafel sandwich. Ahmed’s phone lit up on the coffee table. She continued to enjoy the last little bit of her sandwich. As she leaned across the coffee table to get a napkin, his phone lit up again.

Several text messages written in Arabic came through from someone called Omneya Amir. Hearts and kiss emojis and two notifications that photos had been sent appeared as well. Confused, Gemma tried to unlock the phone with no success. A noise came from the bathroom, and Gemma put the phone back down. She tried to look as though nothing was wrong when Ahmed entered the living room.

“My parents want us to stop by before we go to the pyramids,” he said. Gemma nodded and went to put on her shoes. She bent down and glanced back at him. He was looking to his phone and smiling. Gemma strapped on her sandal wedge heels and stood up.

“Ready,” she said.

They drove in silence to his parents home, which was about ten minutes from her place. Ahmed held her hand the entire way and even kissed it on occasion. Gemma forced a smile.

They were greeted warmly by his mother and father once they arrived. Gemma was surprised to see the living room was full of guests. Ahmed’s brother was their with his wife and two children, and three of his aunts were there with their husbands too. Gemma noticed that Ahmed slipped into a guest bedroom for a few minutes before coming back out to join them.

“I’m just going to call my mom and tell her what we are doing today,” she said, excusing herself.

She hurried to the room to find his phone was charging on the nightstand. It was unlocked.

She quickly grabbed the phone and tapped the screen before it could go dark. She was in.

She took a deep breath and looked to see if anyone was coming. They were enthralled by a joyous conversation in the other room. She quietly slipped the door closed and looked to his phone.

What am I doing? I should trust him.

A second little voice creeped into her mind. ‘If you trust him, then this will be easy,’ the new voice said. ‘Open the message. Prove to yourself that he’s a good man.’

The second voice won, and Gemma tapped the message from Omneya Amir. First, she saw that they had just had a 40 minute phone call before he came to pick her up. As she scrolled up, heart and kiss emojis filled the screen from both sides. Then she found it. There were the photos of Omneya Amir completely naked in a mirror.

Gemma could feel her pulse pounding through her chest and up into her neck and ears. In the first photo, Omneya was sitting on a bed completely naked with her legs spread. Another photo was of her bare breasts from the view of her mirror. The photos were followed by a text in English from Ahmed that read, “I love you!”

Gemma’s heart stopped. Her face became hot, and she began to hear a pounding noise in her ears. She scrolled up again to see more nude photos, more sappy messages, and even a video of them grinding on each other at what appeared to be a club. She clutched the phone and tried to take a breath. She couldn’t catch it. Keeping the phone in her hand, she walked into the living room. She stood there staring at Ahmed with a trancelike look on her face. Ahmed noticed that she was clutching his phone and jumped up. He pulled her into the bedroom and snatched the phone from her.

“What are you doing looking at my phone?” He snarled.

“Who is Omneya Amir?” Gemma asked in a low voice.

“She’s a friend,” he said angrily.

“A friend? A friend that sends you naked pictures,” Gemma said, raising her voice. Ahmed shook his head and took an aggressive stance. “A friend you said I love you too? A friend? A friend!”

Ahmed stepped forward and aggressively pushed his face into hers. Gemma did not move.

“You are looking at my phone!” He yelled. “Looking at my fucking phone!”

Gemma’s inner voice had gone completely silent. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t move. She had no feeling other than rage. As Ahmed continued to scream in her face in an attempt to scare her, the second little voice came into her head. It showed her visions of violence, blood, and anger.

She stared into Ahmed’s raging eyes and said softly, “You have been preaching at me since I came here. You are a Muslim. You wouldn’t let me buy a costume. You proposed to me, and I find this.”

He stared at her, pacing back and forth. She remained still.

“Die,” she said. Ahmed cocked his head to the side. “Die.”

Ahmed furrowed his brow and a pained look spread across his face.

“Die.”

He clutched his chest and hunched his body over.

“Die.”

He was gasping for air when his mother came into the room. Seeing her youngest son in distress, she ran to him, breaking Gemma’s glare. Ahmed started to catch his breath and tried to stand. Gemma pulled the engagement ring off of her finger and let it fall to the floor. She turned and slowly left the room.

“Gemma,” his mother called out.

She didn’t look back.