Mirage (9 page)

The sisters both looked pale and drawn. Julie hoped her mother had stuffed them with enough Immodium and Gravol to get them to Damascus. Bob and Rhonda had fared much better, as did Peggy and Sharlene. All of them said they were over their discomfort and ready to roll.

As she waited for everyone to organize their luggage, Julie couldn’t help gazing up and down the street to see if she could catch a glimpse of Tor. Or at least his bike.

Then she looked at the ground, studying the various tire tracks in the dust. She saw a chaos of different treads. Even if he had driven by, he’d left no discernible evidence. It was as if she’d blinked and he was gone. Disappeared. Just like a mirage.

Yesterday, he’d been real. He’d filled her body, and her heart. But that was yesterday. She knew that for the rest of her life he would recede further with each passing day.

“Are you feeling okay, dear?” Hannah asked as they began to follow Bish to the bus stop. “You don’t look well.”

Julie smiled at her mother. “I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

There was enough room on the bus for Julie to have a seat to herself. Hannah was happy to sit with Marc, and that gave Julie an opportunity to think about her lion man for almost three hours straight. It was an unproductive, indulgent waste of time, she knew. But at least it was better than wasting time thinking about Richard.

Besides, she knew that remembering every little detail of making love to Tor would etch them more deeply into her mind. Then she would never forget what was probably going to be the greatest sex of her life.

How could anything top what he did to me? How I responded to him? It was beyond anything I ever imagined I could feel for a man.

But like the night before, she couldn’t just let herself be happy for having had the experience. There was a big hole where her heart used to be. He’d taken it, and left her empty. She didn’t like the feeling. It hurt.

I have to find him again.

That was all she could think about as she rode through the deserted landscape toward the capital city. There was little to see. Just miles and miles of barren, rocky wasteland. She saw a few tiny green shrubs, scattered across the landscape like a flock of lost chickens. But no trees, no animals, and no people.

Whenever the bus stopped, a few passengers got on, mostly women—covered head to toe in the standard black
abaya
. She saw curious eyes watching her and the other women in her group, but no one spoke to the foreigners.

Once or twice she noticed Peggy was looking at her, a curious expression on her kind face. Whenever she caught Julie’s eye, Peggy smiled at her. It was a smile of friendship.

Or commiseration. Does she suspect what I’m going through?

Attractive for her age, Peggy had the wistful, lonely look of the single woman who didn’t want to be. She, too, had been looking at Tor that first time in front of the restaurant. Julie had seen the almost salacious look in Peggy’s eyes as she watched him jump onto his bike and ride away.

Julie smiled to herself.
Peggy has no idea what I got last night. And if she did, she’d probably explode with jealousy.

When they approached the suburbs of Damascus, Julie began to see olive trees, date palms, and small vegetable plots. It wasn’t a beautiful city, but the sky was blue and the air clear.

Their hotel was in a central location, walking distance to the market and most of the important mosques. After they got settled in their rooms, Bish planned to take them out to a nearby restaurant for dinner, and then a short walking tour of the neighborhood.

But when they went to check in, there seemed to be a problem.

Bish and a severe-looking man behind the front desk were having a heated argument in Arabic, both men gesticulating wildly with their hands, voices raised. It ended when a third man rushed over and threatened to grab hold of Bish, who immediately backed off and walked quickly out onto the street.

He motioned to Hannah through the glass doors, and she went out to join him. Julie could see him talking rapidly, shaking his head, frowning. Hannah nodded, frowning, too, and came inside.

“What’s all that about?” Julie asked.

Everybody clustered around Hannah, staring at her. Julie knew they were hot, tired, hungry, dying to shower and get some rest. All they wanted was their rooms. Hannah took her daughter’s arm and steered her away from the rest of the group.

“It seems Bish isn’t permitted at this hotel. He’s going to go home, and sleep there.”

“But why?”

“He won’t tell me. But judging by the look on that guy’s face,” Hannah pointed with her chin to the man glowering behind the desk, “I’d guess it’s serious.”

“Never mind, Mom. We don’t need him to show us how to shower and dress for dinner. Let’s get our room. We’ll meet him later.”

Marc was hovering nearby, and Julie overheard him say that he’d get to the bottom of the mystery by dinnertime.

Sure enough, later that night, after a few drinks, Marc, his face flushed its customary red, leaned across the dinner table toward Julie and her mother and whispered, “I found out about Bish.”

“Do tell,” Julie said with a smirk. She had no idea what to expect, but she guessed that Bish was guilty of some sort of scandalous behavior.

“It seems that a few months ago our Bish, or Bashar, as he’s called around here, took a fancy to a little Finnish girl. A guest at the hotel.”

“And?” Julie looked down the table at Bish, seated between Tina and Tanya, using his hands with great enthusiasm to punctuate whatever it was he was telling them. She really wanted to hear this.

“Apparently the girl was traveling with another tour group, but staying at the same hotel as Bish and his group. The manager caught him in her room in the middle of the night. A big no-no, for obvious reasons.”

Hannah and Julie shook their heads, turning simultaneously to look at Bish. He must have sensed he was being talked about because he glanced at them then quickly looked away.

“Well it doesn’t look like he’s going to get very far with the twins after all,” Julie said with a smile. “First, food poisoning. Then this. Poor Bish.”

“You’d think he’d learn,” Hannah said, disapproval in her voice.

Then they both looked over at Marc, who was dousing his broiled chicken with Tabasco. He just shook his head and smiled. “A guy’s gotta’ keep trying…”

Julie found it difficult to engage with anyone over dinner. The hummus was creamy, the bread fresh and the olives excellent, but she wasn’t hungry. After a couple of beers and a bowl of lentil soup, she just sat quietly, lost in her thoughts.

Afterwards, when Bish took everyone out for an orientation walk, she went back to the hotel. She couldn’t stop thinking that Tor would probably arrive in Damascus in a day or two. She was going to be in town for a few more days and, conceivably, their paths could cross. But why rely on chance? She should go out looking for him. The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. Track him down. Find him, and…

One more time. That’s all I want. Just one more.

She
rubbed the tips of her fingers across her swollen lips. She
had to find a way. She just
had
to.

Once she’d made up her mind to spend the entire next day searching him out, Julie tossed and turned in the narrow bed. Where should she go? She tried to guess what he might be interested in as a first-time visitor to Damascus. Of course her best chances of bumping into him would be if she hit the main tourist attractions. The souk, naturally, even though it was enormous and exploring it could swallow up her entire day. And perhaps the larger mosques. By three AM she had a plan in place, and drifted off only to be awoken a few hours later by the
adhan
from a loudspeaker outside her window calling the faithful to early morning prayer.

Over the standard Middle Eastern hotel breakfast of hard boiled eggs, fresh bread, tomatoes, cucumber, butter, jam and Nescafé, Hannah told Julie she was going to let Bish go. Marc had joined them at the table, but the rest of the group hadn’t sat down yet.

“I’ve had just about enough of him. He’s been almost useless since we got back to Damascus. Last night he dragged us through the souk as if we were chasing a fire. Rose and Margery could barely keep up. And then he just left us, saying he had a previous commitment and that we knew how to get back to the hotel on our own.”

That was inexcusable, Julie thought. He deserved to be fired. “I’m glad you’re going to give him the boot. But do you think you can manage without him?” They still had two more days in Syria. She looked from Marc to her mother. Both were smiling.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine. We already have everything booked. It’s not like he’d be doing much to earn his wages anyway. He’s now officially redundant.” She cracked an egg on the edge of her plate. “Marc has been kind enough to offer his help, if I need it.” She threw Marc a warm look and began to peel her egg.

“He won’t be happy. When will you tell him?”

“As soon as he shows his simpering face this morning,” Marc said, as if it was his privilege to give Bish his walking papers.

“Do you want me to help?” Julie hoped her mother would say no. She didn’t like conflict.

“I think Marc and I can handle it, sweetie. Don’t worry.”

Relief spread through her body, and Julie realized this was her opportunity to ask for the day off. Her mother, it seemed, didn’t need her anyway. She waited until Marc got up to get a second cup of coffee, then leaned toward Hannah and asked in a low voice, “If you have everything under control, do you think you could spare me for the day? I’d really like some time to myself.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, dear? You know I worry about you being on your own.”

“I’ll be fine, Mom. I’ve got a good map. And besides, I might just hang around the hotel most of the day anyway. I’ve got laundry to do.”

Julie felt a flush of shame creep across her cheeks. She hated lying. And she knew her mother usually caught her.

Hannah leaned closer toward her daughter, her expression serious. “It’s that Dane, isn’t it? He’s done something to upset you. What’s happened?”

“No. Nothing. He was great. Really.” Her face felt really hot now. “I’m just wanting some alone time, okay? You know I don’t like chasing around big cities.”

Hannah backed off. “All right. If that’s what you really want. You’ve got your phone if you need to get in touch with me. But don’t forget our dinner reservation for eight. Do you think you’ll be back by then?”

She grimaced. Of course she’d forgotten.

“I’m not sure.”
Not if I have my way, I won’t.
“Don’t worry. I’ll call if I’m not going to make it.”

Once everyone had left for the day, Julie got to work. First, she dressed carefully, so as to attract as little attention as possible. She chose the black dress she’d bought in Palmyra, and covered it with a high-collared blue silk shirt with long sleeves. After donning a patterned silk headscarf and walking sandals, she was ready to wander the teeming streets of Damascus without fear of standing out too much.

Women in the capital tended to be much more liberal in their dress than elsewhere in the country, she knew. Some even sported skin-tight jeans, stilettos and low-cut blouses. Julie had also seen quite a few attractive young women overdoing their make-up, their eyes surrounded by so much black eyeliner they looked like starlets from the Hollywood B movies of the ‘50s. She didn’t want to look like she was on a man hunt, so she was modest with her own make-up.

First stop—the
Umayyad
Mosque, also known as the Great Mosque of Damascus. She had to go to the change room and put on the grey hooded cloak all women were required to wear before stepping into the sacred building. In a moment of pure vanity, she hoped this wasn’t the way Tor would first see her again—wearing a polyester sack. On the other hand, if he was actually in there, she knew she’d be so relieved she wouldn’t care what she looked like.

The mosque’s inner courtyard was breathtakingly beautiful. She remembered it from her visit last year. Inlaid with thousands of gold mosaic tiles, its gracefully arched ceilings glittered in the morning sun. Dozens of pigeons wheeled in the open center, their fluttering and cooing adding to the beauty of the scene. The light was perfect for photographs, so she took some time composing a few great shots. She explored carefully in her bare feet, sandals in one hand, trying to avoid the dollops of white pigeon poop, scanning the crowd for a tall man, with hair the color of a lion.

Nothing. Very few tourists of any height or coloring.

So she went inside, padding along the sumptuous carpets, hoping there wasn’t any bird shit stuck to the soles of her feet. The interior of the grand mosque was exquisitely decorated, one of the grandest buildings Julie had ever been inside. It was lit by high grilled windows and enormous crystal chandeliers hanging at close intervals. A small area was roped off for the devout to pray, but most of the massive interior was open for visitors to explore. She wandered through the smaller rooms that ran along one wall, peeking into each one. They were filled with women mostly. Almost all wore the black
abaya
, heads covered, feet bare. Most seemed to be very interested in the reliquaries on display behind thick class windows. Bones—Julie didn’t know whose—in silver-encrusted vessels. And, allegedly, the head of John the Baptist.

But no Tor.

After taking her fill of photographs, she ditched the cloak and walked out into the busy street, toward the souk. As far as souks went, this one was relatively new, having been built in the nineteenth century. But its sheer size and the variety of the shops inside made it seem exotic and endlessly fascinating. Last year she’d spent an entire afternoon looking at everything, getting hopelessly lost. But this time she didn’t waste time peering into the hundreds of little shops. She was on a mission.

It was crowded and noisy inside. The high arched metal roof was riddled with shrapnel holes from the last attempted coup, and spears of bright light pierced the dim interior like laser beams. Julie made her way slowly through the masses of morning shoppers, sweeping her gaze around as she went. Fortunately, Tor stood taller than most people, even if his hair color didn’t make him noticeable. But she saw no one who looked even remotely like her Dane as she made her way along.