4. Morocco Anyway….. Despite the fact he doesn’t deserve to be written about Fouad took care of me and my daughter in Agadir. Remembering his warm, tight hug brings tears to my eyes,because you can not fake an embrace. He came to me wearing a black leather jacket and a beige sweater. He smelled of soap and shampoo. He wore a beige sweater, he was 5’11. He held me and rocked me back and forth and we stood there laughing I kissed his cheek. We walked over to my sleeping daughter who had her chin against her chest. He shook her gently.. “Hi you are here in Morocco!” He said and she opened her eyes and said “Hi fouad.” And went back to sleep we would have to wait 5 hours for the flight back to Agadir. Fouad had flown to be with me in Casablanca because I wanted to spend every minute with him while in his country. We spend the five hours talking We hold hands under his jacket that he has put down between us. His hand is hot and calloused. I have not held anyone’s hand but my husband’s for 16 years, but I am happy I am feeling as if I am in a beautiful dream where no one argues and there is plenty of love and hope. We catch the plane to Agadir Fouad is 3 rows behind me. I keep turning back waving to him. My daughter pulls me down and I fall asleep for the 1 hour flight . She shakes me awake and Fouad grabs my purse and we make our way out of the plane. Agadir airport is modern with big palm trees swaying in the cool December wind it is 2 days after Christmas 2011, We click pics after we get our luggage fouad is on his cell rounding up his friends to come get us. Soon we are in a small SUV two young men smile at me and say “Selam.” They take our luggage and Fouad keeps his back pack we 3 squeeze in the back we can not hold hands because my daughter will see. I want to hold his hand, but I can’t. She looks at me very tired. I wonder for a moment what have I done came so far with my daughter, but my heart has told me to do this just like it told me to adopt her 15 years ago. I thought at that time, he would one day be with me just like her…Maybe a person can’t be allowed too many miracles. Fouad has picked the apartment out for me, I will pay 150 and my then British friend will pay 150. It will be 300 dollars for a week it is 2 bedroom 2 bath with a cozy living room I have seen photos before. When we arrive Fouad unlocks the door. The first door is an iron gate just like many homes in India. India has trained me well for other countries. After what seems like forever Foaud unlocks the doors and they swing open he finds the light switch as he has been there before. My daughter throws down her back back “It’s nice.” She agrees and she flops down on the huge couch that wraps around the room with bright colorful cushions. Fouad shows me the bedrooms. We will not be in those together of course, but we start laughing. He puts down our luggage and hugs me. This is a new world someone else besides my husband showing me affection. I don’t feel guilty I feel mystified and happy. I wish those moments could have lasted forever. It hurts so much to write this in recollection and I had promised not to write about it,but part of me wants the words to linger… The two guys are staying it seems and Fouad tells me he will go buy some food to cook. “I will make you tangine.” He says and he hugs me. I want to try the cusine of Morocco and I am excited. Soon our two “then friends” arrive from England and they hug me and my daughter funny how things change. STILL Part of me wanted to be in Algeria. I had wanted to go there for 3 years before I ever met fouad. It is not far away and it seems very unfair. I keep thinking Fouad should be Moudi I keep thinking I would not be here if Moudi had not thrown me away. It is all so strange. I wonder why I can’t be with Moudi, why I can’t be walking down his street. I wipe a tear away this is fate, better things right? (That is what I had hoped.) The guys cook up a delicious smelling dish of chicken and vegtables and spices in a clay pot while us women folk chat my daughter is close in age to ex friend’s daughter and we all laugh as the men cook . Fouad looks at me in the kitchen and I wave to him I wonder know how could it be this way, I know he cared.
Posted on: Thu, 14 Nov 2013 15:25:39 +0000
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