From Cairo, With Love

Second Impressions

It is dusk, from the minaret in the distance recites the muezzin, calling all children of Allah to prayer, his vocals impressive and beautiful. Abeer stands at her open bedroom window, the breeze brushed past her cheeks, it kissed her goodmorning. She watched the sunrise, the sun stood big and grand in the sky. She looked down at the activities on the streets below, a suited business man talking to imaginary people on his mobile phone, she smiled at his animated face as he ran to catch a taxi. A street salesman advertising his goods; overly ripe fruits, counterfeited watches and fake perfume, all on display on large wooden crates. A homeless women, dressed in every item of clothing she owned walked to a street corner talking to herself, just like the business man. Cars honked and curse words were flung into the air as everyone struggled to get to their destinations on time. And, like mountains in the distance, stood the Pyramids crumbling and proud. She felt like a pyramid, deterioted but still standing. And, for the first time in a long time she was content. She didn't mind that Morocco left, it didn't bother her anymore. Although, she caught herself drifting off in thought, thinking about the greenness of his eyes and his crooked smile. She let herself get lost in the memory, to mourn and then, she'd continue with life as if he wasn't a part of her.

He couldn't forget the face and how it felt to hold her hand. He remembered the melancholy that swam in the depths of her eyes, the sadness written across her face and resting on her dark lips. He could write books about that face, he was sure they'd be bestsellers.

"Mazin, my dear." His mother walked into the kitchen, her face still had traces of sleep.

"As salaam wa'alykum, mother." He took a tiny sip of orange juice. The house was quiet, it was just the two of them. His father, Mohamed Yaser, was in Dubai for business and his younger brother , Yazeed , went to boarding school in England. They were a wealthy Kurdish family.

"Did you pray?"

"Yes, mother. I have to go?"

"Where to?" She searched the fridge for her low fat Yogurt.

"I've got classes."

"Are you really going to classes? You never go to classes."

"I am."

"I'm proud of you."

"Sure you are." She found what she was looking for.

"Mazin, you're twenty two years old...I think it's time that you get married so that you can leave the house."

"Mom, not this now..let me just focus on school."

"You should start working for your father, you can afford a good wife."

"I will, but not now."

"Mazin."

"Not now!"

"A good, beautiful, pious Muslim girl. That's what you need my son. And, that's what you'll get."

Abeer sat quietly and waited for class to begin, the vast lecturing hall began to fill up and buzzed with life, the many conversations that surrounded her bounced off the walls. Laughter, slang and more laughter. She rearranged her pens into a neat row to pass the time, three blues and two blacks and stacked her textbooks and notebook. She sensed someone sit down in the seat next to her, she felt the person stare at her for a few seconds.

"And, we meet again." The voice sounded oddly familiar. She turned her head slowly to see who it was.

"Mazin." Her face lit up with recognition.

"I'm surprised you remember my name." He smiled, she looked down at the dimple in his left cheek.

"You probably don't remember mine, do you?"

"Amina, was it?" The color from her face disappeared and she looked down at her pens.

"I'm joking. Your name is Abeer, I remember." She giggled and gently punched his shoulder. He got lost in the beautiful music that was her laugh.

" What are you doing here?" She asked.

"I should be asking you that question."

"I take this class."

"Well, so do I."

"You don't seem like the Archeological type."

"What's that supposed to mean? Ouch."

"No, I didn't mean it like that."

"I major in Political Science. I'm just here for fun."

"That makes sense."

Dr. Azzam, the lecturer entered the classroom and the noise died down.

"You need to quiet down now, with you next to me in class you'll be nothing but a distraction, Abeer." He turned his attention to the round, balding man in the front.

"What's that supposed to mean? Ouch."

"I can't concentrate with a beautiful girl next to me."