mess up my bed with me

I look at you from my end of the living room. I am angry. I am fuming. I don't know why. It finally caught up with me. No stress reliever is strong enough or fast enough. There's no going back now. I am here. I know what I need.

You look up from your report. You know the look in my eyes. You set your papers aside and motion for me to come over. My eyes tear up. My body is flustering. My legs somehow hold me up long enough to get me next to you. I collapse in your arms. You lock me in.

When did my life get so complicated? You told you wouldn't let me come back to this place. Why is this happening? Why me? Why again?

I look up at your caring eyes. Pools of chocolate faith. How could you love me in this state I'm in?

The shaking eventually dies down. My body gives off heat.

I give you a faint smile. I can barely keep my eyes open.

You carry me back to my bed and call in the nurse to insert the I.V. needle. You plant a kiss on my forehead. A kiss that I'm sure burned your perfect lips.

"You don't deserve to be living like this," I say as I take dreadfully long blinks.
"It will all be over soon," you reply and at that moment the morphine kicked in.

You went back to your corner and recited prayers for me. I did the same in my dream.

I pray for you, more than myself.

You made me cry

I hear about people crying out of happiness. I thought that meant the tears we shed when laughing too hard. I never fully understood. Until now..

I love you too much. It hurts. To the point where hearing a lie about you makes me cry. Yeah, it made me cry. You'd be so upset if you saw me now. But, you'd hide it, ask me whether I was kidding and tell me there's only room for one person in your life.

I'm broken. But, in your eyes I am whole. I don't want to share you with the world anymore. Seeing the way they look at you is torture. The way they spite me is unfair.

Fayrouz

You gave me a rose.
I showed it to my friends.
I hid it in my book,
Planted it on my pillow.

I gave you a vase-ful.
You didn't take care of them.
You didn't nurture them,
Until my gift was lost.


I cant get over how metaphorically charged those lines are.. and true. Oh, so very true.

*Translation of Fayrouz's Bektob ismak

precious seconds

Imagine:

You walk into an ATM booth. Just as you step in, the man in the adjacent booth turns to leave. He pushes the door handle, you insert your card. Your eyes never met. You couldn't pick each other out of a line up. Never see each other again.

What if:

That was your soul mate.
That was your meet-cute.
Your chance at eternal happiness.
Now, you have to settle.. like the rest of us.

My silence. Your charm.

The funniest thing about our chase,
is the fact that you don't know that you already have me.
I would never tell you that I cant stop staring at you.
That I want to be with you.
That the only reason I'm not saying this to you,
is because I know my parents would never approve.

Quite a pickle.

Who would you choose?

The man who loves you or the man that you love?

(the love is one-sided in both cases)

The saddest day in my life

The dreamer looked down and saw that the cloud where he oncerested his head was no where to be found. He discovered the thin air wasn't as loyal as the cloud. As he went down, he saw it all. Everything he had and everything he thought, wanted and expected. They drifted further until they were just a speck in the distance.

He could feel the ground getting closer. He knew it wouldn't be soon before he hit the ground. The fall was hard. It paralyzed him for a couple moments. Laying there, he looked up at his home... His eyes filled up, he blinked making the tears rush out and race down his cheeks.

He, then put a suit on and went to work.

You will never be my dear...

You with your indecisiveness.
Me with my imagination.
Who were we kidding?

D.

The antibiotic that wards off that last germ.
The rose colored glasses that make the world bearable.
The top coat to my manicure.
The hotline for my breakdowns.
The wide fitting clothes that hide my flaws.
The concealer that hides my secrets.
The mother that scolds me.
The cheerleader that never drops the pom poms.
The seat belt that pulls me to safety.
The bride that aims the flower bouquet my way.
The rainbow after a storm.
My prescription for a bad day.
My confession booth.
My number one fan.
My crazed stalker.
My partner in crime.
My good luck charm.
My heart's personal bodyguard.
My reality check.
My only hope for the human race.
My best friend.

A little cheese, goes a long way.

Your love is like a river,
peaceful and deep.
Your soul is like a secret,
that I never could keep.
When I look into your eyes,
I know that it's true.
God must of spent a little more time on you.


It had to be said.

Questionable Sanity

Time-Space continuum.
Serendipity.
Everlasting love.
Destiny.

You, me and the rest of our lives.

I wonder how you were made.
How your character was formed.
When did you start squinting when you smiled? Why do you hide those pretty eyes?
I know nothing.
But, I have you.. Had. Almost.

Let's dance

You take three steps closer,
I take two.
There we are.

I take an additional step,
You move one back.
Silence.

No one moves.

I take two more.
You take two too.
You feel uneasy and start to retreat.

I turn around and walk away.
Wishing we could go back to the way we were.

Veni. Vidi. Vici.

Love according to men.

Irony:

When Mr Right can't be Mr Right Now.

I really ought to be studying..

But, I'm thinking of him and the greatness that he is.

Why's he leaving?

It's too soon. We just started.

Once upon a Ralph Lauren-infested time and place,

I met you and fell... like I've never fallen before.

You are my sweetest downfall*

I turned to face him. He had never slapped me that hard before.

I wasn't going to cry infront of him. I put my hair behind my ear. Then, calmly walked over to my briefcase and my keys. I picked them up and headed for the door. It was raining. I felt like the angels were expressing my suppressed emotion.

I turned my car on. My car. The one I had to work to get. I adjusted the seat and the mirror. I put my seatbelt on. I felt my hands go numb. I sat there looking down at my hands for a good ten minutes. I caught my reflection in the rear-view mirror. My cheek was red.

"One tear," I said to myself. And sure enough, down it rolled. I didnt want to wipe it. I wanted it to cool the very cheek, he decided to vandalize.

'Marry rich,' they said. 'Ydel3ich. You can have anything you want. Love comes after marriage, anyway.'

"Non of this would have happened, if my mother was alive," I said outloud. " She wouldn't have let me be so miserable. Lo kanet mawjooda.. Iste'3far allah."

I put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. Off to my sanctuary. My pride and joy. My years of hard work. The longer the hours, the better. Anything that delayed coming home.

I parked my car in my reserved parking space. Gathered my things and walked towards the entrance.

"Good Morning Ma'am," said the security guard.
"Good Morning," I replied with a half smile.

I waited for the elevator, staring at my cheek in the elevator door. The redness had faded. I reached the 12th floor and stepped out of the elevator. Only to be greeted by my co-worker, Nada with the biggest grin on her face.

"Ishfeech?"
"Ya 9abaaa7 il 5air. Ya 9abaa7 il werd," she said as she walked beside me.
" Wait.. Were you waiting for me by the elevators?"
"Ee, 3adi.. Ma 3indi Shi'3l. Oo ba3dain you're important, influencial, beautiful, young.."
I laughed in mockery.
She holds up a magazine to my face. '50 Most Important Women of the Middle East.'
"This doesn't mean anything. It's just a popularity contest."
"No. It's Forbes, which means it's fact. Listen to this, Fay Zayed took over her family business, after the passing of her late mother. She turned the business into a multi-national corporation. She is truly one of the most inspiring and influencial CEOs of our time."

" Make 50 copies of this and make sure the division heads get a copy by the end of the day." I instructed the secretary as I handed her the papers I worked on last night.
" Did you hear anything I said?" Asked Nada.
"Yes I did. Big deal."
She threw the magazine on the desk and threw her arms into the air in despair, as she walked out of the room.
I smiled.
"I have Europe on line 1."
"Put him through."
"Fernando. How are you?.."

Every couple hours I look at the watch and calculate how many hours were left. I wasn't excited about finishing and heading home, like the rest of the employees. I envied the look in their eyes after work. The "I can finally see my family now" look. I tried to remember what it was like. But, my current state interrupted my train of thought. Leaving me full of anger and hatred.

"..and by increasing our production factors by 10%, we can increase our output. Now, we're not looking to increase profit. But, we are looking for more market share.. I can see that most of you are tired and need to go home. So let's call it a day. Great work." I ended the meeting saying.

I see smiles all around.



I turned left and saw his car in the driveway. My heart dropped to my stomach. I turned to the passenger's seat, and saw Forbes magazine by my side. It gave me a small confidence boost. I drove up and parked.

I opened the front door slowly. Trying to locate him before he sees me.

"Yaitay?!" I froze.
"Ee, 7abeebi tawni wa9la," I said as I walked over to him, trying to play down my racing heart beat. I plant a kiss on his cheek.
He grabs my hair and stares at my face. I'm in pain. But, I wouldn't dare make a sound.
"Shiftay Forbes?" He asked.
"Ee," I whispered.
"Roo7ay bedlay 2il '3eda 3ind 2il walda 2il youm."
He ungrips my hair. I look down as I walk to our bedroom.

'Would this be a good time to tell him?' I thought to myself.


'No. If anything, he would probably hurt me and my unborn.'

Dismissed

Well you've done it, Jolene.
Be kind to him.
Love him half as much as he does you,
a quarter of how much I do him...

Rose by any other...

"Helloo in there. It's me, your father," he whispers to my belly. Then, plants a kiss on my forehead,which I close my eyes and savour.

He had just arrived from work. I was in my favourite Lamaze resting position. You know, the one where you're slumped on the couch with your feet up on the coffee table, reading the latest issue of Harper's Bazaar. Yeah, that one.

He comes out of the bedroom dressed in navy blue Abercrombie sweatpants and a white t-shirt. He lies down on the couch, resting his head on my lap. I balance the magazine on the arm rest with one hand and use the other to play with his hair. I sink my fingers deep into his thick black hair and run them back and forth with the occasional strand twisting.

After flicking to Alarabiya, MSNBC and Alhurra, he settles on MBC and mutes the television. He turns his head towards me. I smile at him and rest my hand on his shoulder after the somewhat sensual head massage. I look back at my magazine and he looks a down at my belly.

"Abeek itkoon 7ilw mithil umik," he orders.
I shake my head and smile. After 5 months of my husband talking to my stomach, it became the norm.

"Jasoom ma wa9eeek, ma abeek it2etheeha..." He went on.
Then, it hit me. The reason I was huffing and puffing all morning. I was mad at him.

'I can't believe I fogot!!' I thought to myself. 'I had everything planned out. He took so long to get home. I started reading the magazine and.. Waiiih! Il7een Shasawe? I couldn't get up now. I just gave him a massage and let him kiss me.'

He continues saying the sweetest things. "6ee3ha wi9ma3 kalamha.... Lat sawee shay ythayigha. Hathi il '3alya."

'How could I possibly act up while he's saying these things?' I think to myself. 'It won't make any sense.'

I pick up the magazine to conceal my flustering face. And from behind the Fabulous at Every Age page, I begin to ponder. 'Should I say something? Does he remember? Why didn't he ask about lunch? Did he assume I didn't cook because I was mad? Then, he remembers! What if he's just waiting for me? Maybe he's not hungry..'

While this is going through my head, he continues to talk to our baby. " Lieh 9ar 3umrik 8, bawadeek il7adag wil mu5ayam ma3ay. Lema it9eer 13, beshtireelik Playboy. 18, itdish ma3ay il gym. Abeek it9eer muhendis. Kint ba9eer, bes il walid.. Ya3ni yedik, ma rithaa.."

'Plaayboy?! Wildi man weled oo yabee y5erba? Itha chethe, I'm keeping my knees together and never letting this baby out.' I thought as I flipped the page to pretend that I was still reading.

' I want him to know I'm upset. Abee yratheeni. Abe ily ib rasi yitnefeth. Bes Shlooon?'

And then he did it again. "Eeeeh, ya Jasoom, bacher ib tikbaar witizawej...."

I seized the opportunity. I put down my magazine and got up abruptly, leaving his head to drop on the onto the plush cushion.

"Isma 3abdullah." I say firmly as I walk away.

Romeo, save me.

"Yousef, ifhemni.. May9eer inthil 3ala hel 7ala. It's been 2 years. That's more than enough."
There was silence on the other end of the line.
"I mean, you should have known this was going to happen. What kind of girl would I be if I didn't want this?"
"Ya3ni ultimatum?" Replied Yousef.
"Ee."
"Okay, 5ala9."
"5ala9 shinu?"
"Bes 5ala9." he said firmly and hung up.

I sat on my bed. Not knowing what to do or what to say. I stared down at the phone I cupped in both hands.

I formulated a scenario in my head. In a couple of days, my mom will walk into my room to tell me that a suitor has come to ask for my hand in marriage. I would ask who and his name would come from my mother's lips. I would blush and lower my head, while my insides would be raging in excitement. I would begin the chapter of my life that I have longed for since I was a little girl. My dream wedding, my exotic honeymoon, the rest of my life waking up to his beautiful face and falling asleep in his arms. Having children with his eyes and my nose or, his nose and my eyes.

I smiled at the blissful existence that awaited me. It wasn't long before my pessimistic thoughts ruined my day dream.

What if he doesn't show up? Did 5ala9 signify the end of our relationship? After 2 years, am I that insignificant to him? He wouldn't do that to me. Would he? I am a good girlfriend. I am his everything. He said so. He's my everything. If I'm not talking to him, I'm thinking of him. If I'm not thinking of him, I'm worrying about him. Or talking about him or breaking my back helping him with his work load. I will never have those two years back. Wasn't he my soul mate? Maybe, Mr. Right was one of the men I turned down to be with him. He couldn't possibly be this cruel. He will call me tomorrow morning and explain everything. After all, I wasn't at fault to bring it up.

I curl up under my sheets, say the Mu3awathat before I drift into a light constantly interrupted sleep that yielded a horrifying dream, which fortunately I cannot recall.

I open my eyes and admire the streaks of sunlight that the shutters have formed on the ceiling. I remember the events of last night and reach for my phone. No missed calls. No messages.

In my pyjamas, I dragged myself to the dining room. Grabbed the first fatira off the pile and headed back to my room. I played the first season of Sex and the City. Then, came the second. The third and the forth. With the occasional breaks for the bathroom and to check my phone. No missed calls. No messages.

My days dragged on in the same routine. Never parting from my bed for more than half an hour. The only things changing; my pjamas and the series being played. Phonecalls were ignored, messages left unanswered. I only wanted to hear from one person.

The days turned into weeks. And nothing from Yousef.

Until that day, I will always remember that day because as I recall I had made some progress. I was dressed and was planning on having a day of retail therapy. My best friend had come back for winter break from the States and I was begining to feel hopeful again.

I came down the stairs to find my mother sitting in the living room watching a Denzel Washington movie on MBC2.
"9abaa7 il 5air, Mama."
"9abaa7 il 5air 7abeebty. Haa, wain 3ala 5air?"
" Baroo7 shopping wiya Dina."
"Mita redet min Amreeka?"
"Ams il 9ub7."
"Salmeeli 3alaiha wayid oo 7ibeeha 7egi."
"Inshaallah." I said with a smile.

I reached for the keys on the mantel and made my way to the front door.
"Rawan.."
"Hela yumma."
"It3arfeen wa7id isma Yousef il Flani, ma3ach bil jam3a?"
My whole body froze. Tears stung my eyes. My heart was raging. Was this it? Was this the moment I longed for?
"Ee.. Ishfee?" I replied trying to play it cool and hiding my smile.
"5a6ab Sarah bint 7amed, wild 3em ubooch."

Rooftops and Desktops.

I unfolded the lawn chair and covered it with my Egyptian cotton beach towel. I was miles away from the beach. But, this was my Saturday morning routine and I was not going to change it. I was in a white tank top perfectly tucked into my yellow running shorts. The sun was beaming above me, as though summer had never ended.

I stretched myself on the lawn chair; placing my arms behind my head and pointing my toes. I stayed in that position for the most relaxing six minutes. Then, I put my big round sunglasses on and secured my headphones in my ears. I twisted my hair into a bun, but did not pin it. It was this type of carefree-ness and tranquility, that bought me to the rooftop every Saturday.

I bent my knees and rested my sketchbook on my lap. I began to draw the neighboring rooftops and the sky. There was something about the sky, that calmed me. Seeing it made me feel like everything was going to be okay. I turned my Ipod on and selected the Saturday Morning playlist. It wasn't long until, John Mayer's raspy voice began crooning in my ear.

I felt like the only person in the world. I smiled at random thoughts I had while drawing. I thought about humorous incidents that had happened during the week, the months that separated me from graduation and the graduation that separated from my wedding. I usually try not to think about stressful issues when I'm in my zen space. I cleared my mind from all the previous thoughts. I grew tired on my suburb-scape and decide to paint my toe nails instead. I rubbed the Essie bottle between the palms of my hands. The color I had picked was called Tangerine, it was bright red with an orange undertone.

Just as I finished the first coat on my right foot my phone beeped.

"I miss you so much baby ;** "
Soon after, another message was received, leaving no time for a response. "Msn?"
"Give me 30 minutes." I replied.

Truth was I missed him too. He had been away on a business trip for the past 2 weeks. But, my Saturday mornings were sacred. They were the only thing that kept me going during the week and the only time when I could regain my sanity. I needed a couple more minutes away from reality.

After 30 minutes of sketching and painting the remaining toes, I decided to pack up and head back downstairs. I put the towel on my shoulder, folded the lawn chair and placed it against the wall, picked up my sketchbook, pencil and phone and placed my Ipod in my pocket. I made my way to my room. I could hear chatter and laughs coming from the dining room, which meant that breakfast was in progress.

I threw the towel in the laundry basket and placed the sketchbook and phone down on my desk. I switched on my PC and logged into Msn, Gmail and Facebook simultaneously. I've done it so often it has become routine.

He wasn't online. I decided to check my email and delete the emails that Facebook insisted on sending me to bring to my attention things I could easily notice when I log onto Facebook. I noticed that the first email was from him and was titled "Frowing Beauty." I opened the email to find that it was a series of 4 attached photos. I right-clicked and clicked view on each of them.

.. there are no words to explain the expression that was on my face at that percise moment.

There I was frowing at my sketchbook in one photo, painting my nails in the other, stretching in the third and giggling with my Ipod in the forth.

I grabbed a hoodie and ran up the stairs. I got up to rooftop and looked in the direction of which the photos were taken from. There he was. Standing in his gold Juventus jersey with his arms crossed, like he was waiting for me. His smile beamed across the rooftops and I'm pretty sure my smile did the same in return. He uncrossed his arms and stretched them out, as if he wanted me to run to him and hug him. I really wanted to. But, I knew the laws of physics would prevent me. I blew him a kiss. A big kiss. It had to exaggerated for him to see it.

Then, brought his hand to his ear and I felt my phone vibrate and picked it up before it rang.

"A3shigich."
"Amout feek," I said in my breathy and excited voice.

He pretended to be shot down. I couldn't stop giggling.

You know who you are.

The best of friends.
Slow dancing.

We settled.
We realized we could never be.

"I will run just to be by your side."
"Don't you ever bat an eye."

Swift moves.
We've been silent for a while.

What ifs running through our minds.

Avoiding eye contact.
If they meet, we're doomed.

Perhaps, it was better staying away all those years

His hands.

He put his thumb in my hollow armpits and his fingers on my shoulder blades. He picked me up and made sure I was settled on top of the mahogany bar. Well, there was no liquor. Just a silver espresso machine and a black SMEG refrigerator. I dangled my legs. Until he pulled up a stool, I crossed my shins, to be decent.

One of the perks that came with knowing a restaurateur was being able to stay after working hours and play chef in the kitchen. And his Renaissance-decorated bistro was the perfect playground. It was perfectly designed; high ceilings, a bare floor, by which I mean cement unadorned by tiles or wood, mahogany tables with golden metallic chairs, which were muted by the dark colors of the walls that evoked inspiration. If I was an aspiring poet, I would never leave this place. I would waste my days away here, having deep pessimistic thoughts. Then, rationalizing them, relating them to the norm, and reassessing life as we know it.

He came back from the kitchen with a plate in one hand and two forks in the other.
"What are we having?" I asked.
"Strawberry shortcake," he said with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Mmmmmm.." I hummed. Strawberry Shortcake was my favourite dessert. And he knew it.

He placed the plate to my left and handed me one fork. He put the other fork on the table top. I poked at the cake and put a piece in my mouth. The cake was as light as air, the cream firm; but melted as soon as it touched my tongue. He watched as I devoured the cake bit by bit. After a quarter had vanished, I realised that he hadn't had a piece. I picked up the plate and offered him some. He declined, adding "I'm just waiting for you to have strawberry breath."

I wrinkled my nose. "Naaasty!"

He got up, dragged the stool and sat right infront on me. I put the cake and the fork down and gave him an uneasy smile. He rested his hand on the bar, to my left. Then, came his other hand to my right. I was locked in. I didn't think anything of it, until he rested them on my thighs and began pushing my dress up.

"Soud..Here?" I asked.
He brought up his face to mine. He kissed my lips. I kissed him back. He pulled back, suddenly. I opened my eyes and looked at him.
"Mmm.. Strawberries.." He remarked, slyly.
"Yess.." I replied in my sexiest voice, as I leaned towards him.
I bit my lower lip and looked up at him. He knew what I was insinuating. After all, he started it.

Then, his smile appeared. The smile that I had fallen for so many years ago, still managed to make my heart race and weaken me at the knees. Sometimes, I would be playing hard to get and not giving him the attention he wanted. He would whip out this very smile and I would look at him like a lovestruck thirteen year old looking up at the poster of a celebrity heartthrob plastered to her wall.Yes, he was my Clooney, my Johnny and my Brad.

Just as his hands made their way around my hips, my phone rang. I dropped my head in disappointment.
"It's the nanny." I said with pursed lips,as I looked at the phone.
"We better get back," he replied firmly. I could sense the disappointment in his voice.

The car ride was quiet. His eyes were fixated on the road. He had one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the arm rest. I interlaced my fingers in his. He brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it, ever so delicately.

I got out of the car while the engine was still running. I unlocked the door and stepped into the foyer.
"Anna? Anna.. Where are you?" I asked, as I took off my scarf.
"I'm here, ma'am. I'm sorry to call you. But, he was not able to sleep without you here," she replied.
"It's okay.." I said with slightly pouted lips.

When I got to my son's room, I found him lying in his bed under his Transformers comforter staring at the ceiling.
"Barooki, ishfeek 7abibi?"
"Ma abee anam!" He exclaimed. His eyes still staring at ceiling.
I sat beside him and planted a kiss on his forehead.
I sat there in silence, not wanting to cause any stimulation that might distract him from sleeping.
"Laish 6aweltay?" He asked. Breaking the silence.
My face got flustered. I couldn't possibly tell my 5 year old son what I was up to.

Soud appeared at the doorway.
"Haa Barak.. Mu nayim!" He said jokingly.
"Baba, mabee anam. Abe ag3ed wiyakum."
Soud sat at other side of Barak's bed.
"La baba. May9eer. Bacher binroo7 9oug 2il yim3a, 3ashan nishtiri turtles."
"9ij?!" replied Barak with wide and curious eyes.
"Ee.. Ana wiyak bini6la3 bacher. Fa lazim a6ali3 mama 2ilyoum," he replied and gave me a wink.

Barak was at a loss for words. Soud gently stroked Barak's head. Within minutes, Barak was sound asleep. We made our way out of his room. Soud shut the door behind him and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"A7ibik," I whispered.
"Mu kithri.. 9adgeeni, mu kithri" he replied as he playfully kissed my ear lobe and worked his way down.