11
“It tastes fresh,” Lora said, smacking her lips and handing the strange desert fruit to Carmen, who made a face and shook her head. “Come on. You gotta taste it! They’ll be offended.”
“They’ll be more offended if I puke all over their food stall,” Carmen snapped. “Seriously, get that away from me. I am not eating a cactus!”
Lora laughed as she paid the vendor and ate the rest of the cactus-fruit in full view of his smiling brown face. Then she checked to make sure Damascus was safely protected from the sun, sighed and made a face at Carmen, and finally looked at her phone. “We’re due back at the hotel in an hour or we miss the free dinner buffet. Where’s our ride?”
They looked out past the street vendors of the crowded city market of Johaar, but they couldn’t see their hotel shuttle. They’d confirmed the time with their driver, but clearly something had been lost in translation—or more likely in the hand gestures and head-nodding that supplemented his broken English.
“I wonder if he was instructed to be late so we wouldn’t make it back in time for the free meal,” Carmen said, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, I did eat four platefuls of shrimp from their buffet last night,” Lora said thoughtfully. “So that could be it.”
Carmen shook her head and laughed. “You’re eating shrimp in the desert. Don’t you think that’s a little risky?”
“Live a little, Carmen.”
Carmen laughed again. “Death from a parasite is more likely,” she said. “But speaking of living it up, when are we re-acquainting you with Sheikh Amir?”
Lora froze, unable to answer or even to look into Carmen’s eyes. Thankfully the white hotel shuttle pulled up just then, and Lora hurried towards it without looking back.
“That is why we’re here, isn’t it?” came Carmen’s voice from behind her.
“What are you accusing me of?” Lora said, still not looking at Carmen.
“God, Lora! I’m not accusing you of anything! I’m just pointing out the obvious. I mean, why else would you drag us halfway around the world to the place you got married? Certainly not to relive the memories of the wedding. Which means you want to relive something else . . . memories of something else.”
Lora snorted, adjusting her sunglasses and looking down at Damascus, who was wide-eyed and alert as the shuttle made its way through the narrow streets of the old city towards the paved roads of the newer part of Johaar.
“Which is understandable,” Carmen continued from the seat behind Lora. “You just got cheated on and you’re alone with a son. Naturally you’re thinking back to the last positive experience you had with a man.”
“I’d hardly call the experience with Sheikh Amir positive,” Lora snapped without turning. Thankfully the shuttle was empty besides an old couple seated all the way up front.
“We all saw that kiss,” Carmen whispered from behind her. “And it’s that kiss that’s brought you back here. I know it, you know it, and I guarantee the Sheikh knows it. Or he will, when he finds out you’re here.”
“Well, he won’t find out I’m here,” Lora said firmly.
“Too late,” was the reply, and it was so smug and self-assured that Lora turned in panic and stared at Carmen.
“What did you do?” she whispered.
“Well, I never did send him an invitation to your wedding, so I decided I should send him an invitation to your divorce.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Your divorce party,” Carmen said. “We’re having a celebration for you at the hotel tomorrow night. And I’ve invited Sheikh Amir. Hope you brought a nice dress, hon.”