My first memory
My first memory is not a moment in time. It is a feeling. The world was an abundant pool of possibilities. I was boundless, limitless, fearless. I didn’t understand society or money or restrictions. I didn’t know what failing meant. I was free.
This state is one I often escape to when I’m emotionally, spiritually and mentally capable to do so. And in this state, the world is my kingdom. Though physically, I possess nothing, in every other sense I hold the entire world in my hands. I need not be humble, for arrogance does not exist. Nor hatred, nor spite, nor criticism. Only possibilities driven by a purely divine state of mind.
If you ever find yourself in this place, hold on to it with all you’ve got. It’s what brought you all the glorious, exciting moments in life. It’s all the risks you pursued without doubt, all the moments you moved forward, blind to the consequences that your actions may yield.
This beautiful naivety may have left me bruised and scarred, and though I have felt arrogance and hate and greed, and i may not be as pure as I once was- I still seek this state that brings me and us our adventure, our purpose.
The bruises and scars may not be the tattoos I choose but I wear them proudly, for in them lies the story of my adventure and my purpose. I will not let them hinder my pursuit.
Have you ever looked into a child’s eyes and seen the wonder in their soul? That wonder still remains within you- seek it.
The Man
When I was three years old my family, and I lived with my aunt, uncle, and my two cousins. We lived there for about nine months, but it was nine months longer than what I would have liked. One night I was having an incredibly hard time falling asleep. I felt as if someone was watching me. "Mommy?" I said as I looked around the dark room. I could barely make anything out. The room was quiet, and the air was cold. I could hear my older brother, Roger, breathing, but my eyes could not adjust to the darkness to see if he was still asleep in his bed across the room. That's when I saw him. Looking at me just at the foot of my bed as if he came from under. The only part he made visible was from the nose up. Eyes locked on his gaze. His face white as a sheet. Left eye red, and right eye just black. He started to rise, and I could see he was an old man. His entire face now visible, and as he stared a giant grin stretched across his face. "Stop it.....Roggie?" The moment I said that he let out a deep moan, and in an instant I screamed bloody murder, and try to back away from him. My brother jumped out of bed, and turned on the lights. My mother runs in trying to comfort me, but all I could do was cry in fear, and point to the edge of the bed. I saw him almost every night for those nine months, and my family experienced paranormal activity the entire time.
21 years later, and the image still haunts me to this day.
Angels
Life was rough growing up. There were times I would come home from school and my family would be happy, and then the others we were falling apart. It was a coin toss. Dad was always at work so we could pay the bills and mom was trying to keep up with me and my other three siblings. I'd see my dad if I woke up early enough or stayed up really late. Either way, I was told to go to sleep.
We weren't a religious home. Both my parents were forced into different churches by their parents growing up and they didn't want that for us. They wanted it to be our choice when we were old enough to actually understand the bible. Auntie always said that is why we had problems. We didn't have God or something like that. So with this, I didn't believe in these fairy things people called "Angels." As a child, I didn't know what an angel was.
Like anything else in the world, life went on. Almost lost our house. Grades were slipping. Family was getting smaller from both death and fighting. I still dont know if my family is alive. I was a mess and just getting worse. I was ready for life to be done because I didn't see where this thing was going. No matter how many times people would tell me things would get better, it began to be this joke of a lie I fell for.
My safe place was the park across the street. I grew up with the swings there so I always found it to be a place of peace. As I was sitting there one day, I saw a litte girl playing on the playground. She looked so sweet and calm. Eventually, she came to the swings and sat in the one next to me. Somehow she saw that I was upset. I didn't realize I was crying until she asked why. Without me saying anything, she told me I was going to be ok. That no matter what happens in life, someone loves you still. After that, she walked away. I smiled so much because I believed her, and she was right.
Things slowly started to get better. The little family I had left started to communicate more and we are now really close. Mom has a job doing daycare to help pay the bills. I have a college plan and have been in a steady and strong relationship for more than a year. It is strange, because when I go to the school to pick up daycare kids, I swear I see that little girl.
I believe that the little girl was in fact an angel. I never believed in angels before. I didn't believe in winged people with power above my own. I didn't until I realized that not all angels have wings.
What really happened on the boat?
Q: Thank you for taking the time.
A: Get to it.
Q: All Right? That night on the boat, did you go to bed before they started fighting?
A: I really dont want to discuss this.
Q: You agreed to this interview. People that want to know.
A: Things were getting heated. It was a little rowdy. There was a bottle broken. I went to bed.
Q: How drunk were you?
A: I was ready to go to bed.
Q: Did you hear them fighting after you went to bed?
A: Yes.
Q: Were they fighting about you?
A: Yes.
Q: Were you in love with her?
A: Everybody was in love with her. The World was in love with her. The only person that wasn't in love with her, was her.
Q: Were you lovers?
A: I won't answer that.
Q: So, you were.
A: I Won't Answer That.
Q: Do you believe his story?
A: Do You believe his story?
Q: No.
A: There you have it.
Q: Do you think he killed her?
A: I don't think he tried to save her.
Q: Did you help cover it up?
A: I answered all questions that I was able to answer.
Q: Do you miss her?
A: Can you really miss someone that is never really gone? Someone that is immortalized on the screen? Someone who will always stay young and beautiful and who will be introduced to countless generations, even after her death?
Yes, I miss her.
I'm done now.
Angels
Many forms are they.
Come when needed and stay.
Comfort the lonely downtrodden and dismayed.
Bring hope, good tidings, and joy some days.
One never knows when one you’ll meet
A chance maybe passing by on the street
Yet they know you long before you greet
You will know when you’ve met one because they are so sweet.
Angels
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.
The Long Ride Home
He helped his wife out of the wheelchair and into the passenger seat of their blue sedan. He took great care to hold the seatbelt away from her as he gently buckled her in and closed the door. The nurse stood like a sentinel as he slowly returned the wheelchair to her care. His eyes remained fixed on the ground as he walked to the rear of the car, popped the trunk open, and gently placed the empty car seat into the dark, cavernous space.
Lies of a Certain Nature
“The difference is, I lie for a reason.”
Ali’s words were clear and concise, cutting through the lunch hour chatter of the restaurant like a stainless steel blade.
Robert looked into her face, void of emotion. Her green eyes used to sparkle when she smiled at him. But now, he studied her as if she was some unknown exotic species discovered for the first time.
She continued to stare him down, silent and unwavering.
“What are you talking about? Lies? What lies?”
Ali’s behavior over the past couple of weeks had been erratic at best. Pleasant conversations took sudden detours into dark places, ending in soliloquies of a brooding nature. Hours later, her jovial attitude made the earlier encounter seem like a fleeting nightmare one couldn’t quite remember upon waking. Robert was aware that hormonal shifts could be more pronounced as women aged, but this was bordering on bipolar.
“Your entire life is built on lies,” she snapped. “I thought it was a harmless game at first, watching you manipulate others by telling them what they want to hear: your friends, your colleagues, your employees. You lie like you breathe: effortlessly.”
“Why are you—“
“Let me finish,” she interrupted. Another pause. “I have been with you for three years. I had so much hope for the future. I fed off your passion; it was a drug to me. But now I see you for who you really are: A con artist, preying on everyone who crosses his path to get what he wants. Including me."
Every sentence, every word was cold and robotic. The lack of emotion was more disturbing to Robert than the words themselves. He had a thick skin--he had to, given the nature of his business. But dealing with this shell of a person whom he knew intimately was something otherworldly.
Ali sat perfectly still, unblinking, waiting for Robert to respond. His confusion quickly turned to annoyance as he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.
“Look, Ali, I don’t know what’s got your panties in a wad. But I’m tired of your irrational accusations.” Robert pushed his chair back from the table and rose to his feet. “This conversation is over.”
Ali reached into her purse and produced a candy bar-sized item in a pink and white metallic wrapper.
“Perhaps I wasn’t being clear.” She slid the item across the table, glaring at him the entire time.
Robert reached down, picked it up and pulled back the already opened wrapper to see what was inside.
“I wasn’t implying that I’m perfect and you’re not. What I’m saying is, you lie casually. It’s your way of life. I, on the other hand, lie...but for different reasons. Big reasons. Like the one you’re holding in your hand.”
Ali smirked, showing the first sign of human emotion as the gravity of the situation was realized in Robert’s expression.
“I lie to Tom all the time,” Ali said. “I tell my husband it’s okay that he’s unemployed, and that I understand he’s looking really hard for a job. I also lie and say it doesn’t bother me that he has a low sperm count, and that we can’t have children. I smile and pretend that it’s all okay, because, what choice do I have?”
Robert stood like a statue now, white as alabaster.
“I lie and tell Tom, ‘It’s a miracle! We are finally going to have a child together!’ Well, we are going to have a child together. It’s just not his.”
Ali slowly stood up, both fists on the table supporting her weight as she leaned into Robert.
“You have used people your whole life to get what you want. Now it’s my turn to get what I want: The child I could never have, the family I’ve always dreamed of...with a promotion comfortable enough to support the three of us. I’m sure that can be arranged. Right, Senator?”
Highs and Lows
The first time I got high was outside of a bar called Taproot. A collection of bearded musicians and a wooden dance floor that seemed to attract older men like my date, trying to impress impressionable young women, like I used to be. There were many pairs of us, but somehow I felt elite, sitting next to my brooding companion. We were by far the handsomest, of that I was smugly certain.
It was winter, but the hipster-local-who-cares-cocktails I had consumed kept me warm when we went outside - snowing though it was. A jacket would cover the appeal of my outfit - my trap for his eyes. His eyes never needed much ensnaring, they flittered around recklessly even then.
His Chevrolet truck - with the covered back where he kept the dogs he walked for a living - was open at the driver’s side. I was soon against the door - swooning under whiskey lips and feeling heady from the thrill of being desired. He pulled back - lids heavy, and produced a joint from his flannel breast pocket. I was delighted by every cliché. I fell for his jungle colors, his peacock spread.
I was a novice then, and so his taste for my lips and my lack of knowledge lead to an exchange. He blew the smoke within me - again and again - watched me expel it into the night air. The fiddle that played in the background of our embraces called my attention now - as did the gaze of the door guard. A full figured man - he peered at our exchange, and I supposed he had watched many couples in this manner - too drunk to notice his leer. Fresh from the country, every detail of this shoddy part of town enthralled me - made me feel like a bold city girl.
My date noticed the fat man’s observation, and pulled me to him again. It was a performance - I couldn’t recognize then that this display was more for the guard’s benefit than mine. It was this night that I went home with him, the night of my surrender - exchange of flesh. A step more severe for me than for him, of that I was aware.
We were woken the next morning by a knock - followed without much pause by an open door - for which his roommate seemed embarrassed. I covered myself, blushing. My lips were swollen from kissing, I felt them with my fingertips as my date cursed his roommate. The roommate, a shy boy - was just short of writhing in his discomfort.
“I’m sorry man, she just came in.”
From behind him, a woman stepped forth, closer to my date’s age than mine. I stared back defiantly from his bed on the floor, though my date began to sputter and collect himself. I’m embarrassed for that stare now. She said nothing, but my boxer-clad companion followed her out the door.
In my naivety I allowed him to embrace me again when he returned, no questions asked or answered. Foolish men thrive on foolish girls.
Foolish girls let foolish men tell them to ignore their intuition, ignore their observations.
I did not stop being a foolish girl until I found myself at his door, peering in at him and a face that didn’t belong to me - who stared back at me with a familiar rosy defiance.
Broken
From the start I catered for your every whim,
Stroked your hair while you dreamt of him.
Every night I stared at your face as you slept,
Laid your head on my chest as I silently wept.
All my ambitions in life revolved around you,
Plans laid out, heart laid bare for a fantasy only you knew.
Yesterday you showed me a little blue line,
For twenty-four hours I was on cloud nine.
A fresh start, new hope and a baby boy or a girl,
New love and a future for our family to unfurl.
Today after work I came home to an empty house,
Flowers and a ring to seek your hand as my spouse.
My heart sank as I staggered from room to room,
The building I called home had become my tomb.
A note on the table sealed my fate with a kiss,
Our past, present and future thrown to the abyss.
The life we shared, the life you grow, all a lie,
Both belong to another and the letter was your goodbye.
All the times I kept quiet and kept him out of mind and out of sight,
Now I'm alone and out of my mind because I didn't put up a fight.
You always said I was too weak and should grow a set of balls,
I always wished you'd see the times I picked myself up after all of my falls.
If you read my words know that I wish you and baby well,
I'm already dead, it's time for me to leave this broken shell.