Thank you all so much for the love for my first chapter! Sorry it has been a while since I've updated but I'm slowly transferring myself between stories and passions and it's hard to keep focus on one thing sometimes. Nevertheless I'm here and would love to know your thoughts! I'm looking forward to diving deeper into this story and I'd love to hear your predictions about where the story could be headed!
Stay safe out there, wherever you are, and use this time to be thankful for your health and the joy of reading and writing. In this time away from work I'm devoting all I can to reading and exploring new techniques in writing. If you have come across pieces that speak to you share them in the reviews, I'd love to experience more and more in this time I have.
For now, enjoy, let me know what you think, and stay kind!
Every night since she had moved back to Egypt Elizabeth had dreams she was on fire. And other than the fiery blaze, the only other reoccurring element was the desert. Sometimes she would be crawling, sometimes standing or sitting quietly in the sand while the icy hot flames burned through her flesh.
This dream from which she had just woken, was no different. She heaved the covers from her body, sticky with sweat as they clung to her skin, and crawled to the cold marble floor. Though this helped for only a moment. She clumsily downed two glasses of water and tried to control her breathing to no avail.
The breeze fluttered in through the open balcony doors and she forced herself outside. Cairo was quiet in the late night, early morning haze. The pyramids reflected the moon like a beacon and she was suddenly calm.
Instead of lingering on what the underlying issue was with these dreams, these coughs, these chest pains—Elizabeth resolved to make herself a cup of mint tea and sit out on her balcony until the sun rose.
Elizabeth had fallen asleep briefly on the balcony. She jumped awake at the sounds of the city coming alive. The sun had just risen between the pyramids from where she sat and she wondered how on earth she got so lucky. To live here, to breathe in this heavy but life-giving air.
Not another moment passed before she heard commotion and coughing down below. Several voices echoed up through the balcony, far too loud to be just mere passer by. Quietly Elizabeth tip-toed to the edge of the balcony and her eyes widened.
Starting in front of her door was a line of about ten people, a few sitting, another coughing, all waiting. Were they waiting for her?
Quickly she ran back inside, changed, and darted downstairs. Breathless she opened the door. The man first in line smiled as he held up an elderly woman.
"Please, are you the doctor?"
"Yes, I am." Elizabeth hesitated but gestured for the two to come in. "What seems to be the issue?"
"My aunt, she seems to have fevers every night, chills in the day." Elizabeth nodded at his words and checked her pupils, then her fever. No fever, but the woman was nearly rattling out of her bones in a chill.
Elizabeth sighed and got to work. From sunset to nearly sundown the line never seemed to shorten. Exhausted and starving, but patient and focus Elizabeth saw to every patient.
Her current patient, a young man called Faruq, was suffering from eyesight loss. The sun was setting and Elizabeth sighed, using a candle to look into the man's pupils.
"Your eyes are quite dry, do you work outside?"
"Yes."
"Do you wear any protective eyewear?" He shook his head in what she assumed as confusion in what protective eyewear actually was. Elizabeth nodded and stood over to her cabinet. She mixed together a small solution and bottled it. "I cannot undo the damage the sun has caused your eyes, Faruq, but I can help them from getting any worse."
"Thank you, doctor." Faruq smiled, grasping the bottle in his hand tightly.
"I will look for some protective eyewear for you, but in the meantime keep your eyes low if you must work outside." Faruq nodded and bid her a quiet farewell.
Elizabeth sighed, cleaning up her mess quickly. And like she had nearly a hundred times that day, she walked to the door to let in the next patient. Except this time the street was empty. With a haggard sigh of relief Elizabeth let herself fall to the doorframe in tire.
A moment to breathe. Just like she had hoped.
The cool night breeze from the pyramids filtered in through her home and her hair tickled her neck. She could fall asleep right then and there if she wanted to. And oh, had she wanted to.
Suddenly the sound of someone clearing their throat jolted her attention out of sleep. Elizabeth's eyes lazily opened and she saw Fatima with little Amil at her side.
"Oh, Fatima—" Elizabeth stood up but Fatima rushed over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"You look like shit, Eliza-bet." Fatima said in English and Elizabeth laughed. She sat on a stool and looked at the older woman.
"What can I do for you, Fatima? Is Amil okay?" Her eyes were becoming heavy but she still trudged on.
"Yes, but the boy seems to have burst his stitches." Elizabeth looked at Amil who was hiding behind his grandmother's linen skirt.
"It's okay, Amil." She reassured the boy, "Can I take a look? Does it hurt?"
Amil hesitantly stepped forward and nodded. Elizabeth took the loose bandage off and saw two stitches had broken. Odd, she thought.
"I can fix this but it'll take a little bit of time." Elizabeth scooped Amil up and plopped him on the operating table.
Fatima was silent as Elizabeth got her supplies ready. Elizabeth looked back at the older woman who was looking at her with pensive suspicion.
"What is it?"
"Have you eaten at all today, Eliza-bet?"
Elizabeth avoided eye contact with Fatima and went back to organizing her tools.
"Mmhmm." Fatima hummed, knowingly. "If this will take as long as you say I will be right back. Okay, Amil?"
Amil nodded. Elizabeth watched Fatima leave with knitted brows.
She turned back to Amil, "So, what kind of mischief led to this, hmm?"
Amil looked at her with a shy shrug, "I tried to go fishing with one hand but…"
"That didn't really work out, did it?" Elizabeth chuckled, stringing up her needle.
Amil giggled, "No, I caught a fish and couldn't reel it in."
Elizabeth gave him a small shot of morphine at his wrist and steadied her hands.
"It'll be a pinch, okay? Just like the first time." She waited until Amil nodded to make the first stitch. But before she could Fatima strolled back in, slamming the door open and closed behind her.
"Eliza-bet, you have kitchen yes?" Fatima asked, and Elizabeth turned. In her arms was a plucked chicken, vegetables, and a terra-cotta pot. She blinked.
"Um, yes, just upstairs." Fatima nodded and trudged up the stairs. Elizabeth blinked and turned back to Amil. She got straight to work. Amil flinched every now and then before the shot started to kick in, then he eased into comfort.
It was easy enough—restitching—but Elizabeth was waning in strength. It took her nearly twice as long to stitch the boy up.
Fatima came downstairs then with a steaming pot of chicken and vegetables just as she wrapped Amil's wrist back up. The scent of the rich spices alone made Elizabeth start to salivate.
"Come, eat." Fatima ordered and sat the pot on her desk, beckoning her. Elizabeth took a bite and felt a jolt of life come back to her. Amil and Fatima started to eat as well. It was quiet but nice, enjoying a meal with this small family.
"Thank you, Fatima."
"You need to feed yourself, Doctor Eliza-bet, even when you are saving lives of others." Fatima said and Elizabeth could only nod. She knew this was true, and always tried to stay on top of her own health—but no matter how much she tried, the health of others always came first.
"Grandma can I go home?" Amil asked and Fatima looked at Elizabeth, who nodded and told him to come back in two days so she could check on his stitches. Amil ran home and left the two women alone.
The candles in the clinic were growing dim and the pot was nearly empty of food. Elizabeth felt like she could close her eyes and fall asleep in a second.
"Thank you, Fatima, truly."
"It is no bother." Fatima said, eying her. "Eliza-bet may I ask you something? And you do not have answer if you do not want."
"Of course."
"Do you have someone to care for you?"
Elizabeth let out a breath and looked down at the pot. She popped another sweet potato into her mouth and shook her head.
"Have you no one?" Fatima urged on.
"I have someone but he's…he's not present."
"And where is he?"
"He's has a very important job that keeps him out of the city." Elizabeth said in as little give away as possible. Fatima nodded in understanding.
"Everyone needs someone, Doctor Eliza-bet—even if it's someone to take a bit of pressure off. You have a very important job too."
Elizabeth nodded, setting her fork down. She considered the words with great understanding and made a quick, but important decision.
"Fatima, do you have a job?"
The older woman shook her head and laughed a little. "Not many women in Cairo have jobs, my dear, even young ones. You are a fortunate anomaly."
"How would you like a job?"
Fatima blinked at Elizabeth, looking lost for a moment.
"What—what kind of job?"
Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and sighed, "If today was any indication that I need help—I know it will not be easier. I could use an assistant; someone to make appointments, take down symptoms, help with the occasional operation if you can stomach it. And I will pay you of course."
Fatima grew an incredible smile, "I am good with money, I can handle the payments from patients." Elizabeth started to shake her head, but was interrupted, "I know you did not ask payment of any of your patients today, the word travels fast here my dear. I will handle that so you do not have to worry. You must be paid for your talents, otherwise how will you survive?"
Elizabeth let out another sigh of relief. "Thank you. Can you start tomorrow?"
Fatima laughed, picking up the empty pot. "I can start right now!"
Elizabeth and Fatima developed a routine that week. A routine which divided the work that Elizabeth hated doing, giving her more time to devote to each patient. It was a rocky system but it worked.
The day would start with the sunrise and end with the sunset, with Sunday's off save for dire emergencies. Fatima would sometimes stay for dinner, but would more often than not leave Elizabeth to her own company in the evenings. And in the evenings Elizabeth would make herself dinner and think of nothing else but Ardeth and how it had been forty-five days since she last saw him.
Her stomached ached with the thought of Ardeth being out there with all the dangers she couldn't even imagine, and missing him more and more every moment because of it. She would sit on her balcony in the cool evenings and look back into her bedroom with yearning.
All she wanted was to touch him, and to hold him. She didn't even need to kiss him. Just to feel, to know he is real and alive and well.
Elizabeth would finish her tea and make herself another before she would crawl into her sheets. This night was a particularly hard one because she tried as hard as she could to distract herself. She fell asleep attempting to read her father's newest book that had just been mailed to her.
It was a restless sleep, with dreams of burning and the desert. But they would be interrupted by a loud clang downstairs. Elizabeth jumped up and listened.
More clanging.
Quickly, silently, Elizabeth made her way downstairs. The sound was coming from the back door. As she stepped closer she picked up a discarded cricket bat that Amil and Sachi left behind the other day.
It was nearly pitch dark save for the bright moon shining in through the windows. Another clang and a horse whiny. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and the door opened. She raised the bat ready to fight.
A tall, dark figure was in the doorway, an unmistakable silhouette.
"Oh Ardeth—" She dropped the bat and Ardeth ran to her, "For fucks sake, use the front door next time." She laughed into his chest and Ardeth picked her up and spun her around.
"I'm sorry I have been away for so long."
"Shh." Elizabeth's fingers fell to his lips and her forehead fell to his. "I don't care right now."
"I missed you." Ardeth breathed out, running a hand through her hair. He chuckled softly, "I've been gone so long your hair is nearly twice as long."
"Yours too." She joked and touched the tattoos on his face. "How long do I have you for?"
"Tonight," he kissed her softly, "and tomorrow." And again.
Elizabeth nearly started crying between their kisses, she clutched his robes and willed her grip the strength to never let go.
"Then we must make the most of this time."