We're in the depths of Elizabeth's turning point, amid self-sabotage and impulse. Please let me know what you think!
For the next year Elizabeth would dive deeper into her work writing for medical journals with hopes of eventually publishing a book about her success with Amil and his hand. She hoped the operation and the book itself would gain a decent amount of notoriety. She had not treated a patient since she had dug herself out of the sand, and it left a sort of emptiness inside of her. Or perhaps in the very least, it could offer her some sort of new found purpose and motivation.
Elizabeth's life, for all intents and purposes, was going okay. She was happy living with her father and her brother's small family. Happy with her fiancé Mackenzie Elliot, with whom she adored. She had no thought about Ardeth and Egypt in months.
Elizabeth paced outside of her father's office. Her bare feet hardly made a sound but she knew he would know she was out there. Waiting. After several long hours she finally heard her name called from the inside and immediately dashed in.
"Well?" She stood expectantly at the edge of Ernest's desk. In his hands he held her manuscript, the complete retelling and journals from her time as a field surgeon and running a clinic in Cairo.
"Elizabeth. It's…exceptional."
Elizabeth lunged and hugged her father, "Curse you for pausing but I'm so happy you said that." Ernest laughed and hugged her back.
"You've already sent it to your agent, yes?"
Elizabeth nodded, "About a week ago, yes."
"Well, all we have to do now is wait."
"Ugh, this is so agonizing. Is this what you have to do every time?"
"Unfortunately that's the way of the business. Lot of sitting around writing and then a lot of sitting around waiting."
"God, what do you do in the meantime?" Elizabeth flung herself into a chair and started flipping through a book.
"Well drinking helps me to pass the time. And you've got a wedding to plan, I imagine that'll take a good portion of this meantime."
Elizabeth closed the book with a gentle slap and was reminded suddenly of the reality of it all.
"You're right, aren't you? Is that the sort of thing that I would need to…do?"
Ernest laughed into his cup, "Well I'm certainly not qualified to do it."
"Did I hear something about wedding plans?" Camilla poked her head into the den with Charlotte at her heels, arms full of stuffed animals.
Elizabeth sighed, "I suppose a wedding must be planned before one, has one…yes?"
Camilla laughed and sat down next to Elizabeth. Charlotte crawled onto Elizabeth's lap and started to introduce all her animals to her. Elizabeth had been introduced to them before, but she pretended like she was meeting them for the first time.
"Lizzy here needs something to do rather than obsess over a publishing contract. You'd do good to keep your mind occupied some place else for a while." Ernest flipped through the morning paper.
"Oh wedding planning is such fun, Lizzy. So many things to consider—"
Elizabeth groaned and leaned her head back. Charlotte laughed and imitated her, leaning her mess of blond curls back into Elizabeth's face.
"If you want, Lizzy, I'd be honored to help." Camilla offered and Elizabeth pulled herself up with Charlotte.
"You'd do that?"
"Of course, with Charlotte becoming more independent I don't need to be constantly watching over her. We could…we could start today if you'd like?" Camilla looked hopeful and excited and Elizabeth would never in a hundred years turn down hope like that.
"Then start today we shall. But somewhere simple, like…flowers?"
Camilla gasped, "Flowers? Perfect! Just let me freshen up." She stood to leave the room before turning back in, "Oh Ernest you wouldn't mind just keeping an eye on Charlotte? Thank you!"
Ernest scoffed as his daughter-in-law left the room before he could answer, "I thought you said she was independent?!"
"I think I miss it," Elizabeth said one evening after dinner.
"Miss what?" Mack asked, sipping his wine as the waiter picked up their plates. Her and her fiancé were alone together.
"Fixing people, being a doctor."
"Oh I'm sorry darling. Do you want me to try to choke on something so you can save me?"
Elizabeth laughed, "No, but thank you for the consideration."
"You'll get back on the horse some day Lizzy. I'm certain of that."
"How can you be so certain?" She asked, twirling the wine glass between her fingers. Mack plucked her hand into his and kissed her knuckles, and paying special notice to her ring.
"Because if your professional fire is anything like it is in bedroom, there's not much that can smother it." Elizabeth gasped and playfully slapped his arm. "What?"
Mack laughed and they kissed softly. He continued, "You're so beautiful, so perfect. I love these curls, how do you get them so perfect?"
"Well it's a little something called overnight rollers, hardly magical at all."
"Pish-posh—your beauty is magical to me, that's all I accept to believe. Pure magic." She gazed into his eyes and kissed him again. Elizabeth's mind went quiet for several moments, just gazing into his eyes.
Something…something felt very strange to her in that moment. An unrest, a pull, a deep—deep longing, hypnotic and earthly.
"Eliza? Earth to Eliza—" Mack pinched her nose and she was immediately knocked out of her self induced trance. "Are you ready to go, darling?"
"Hmm? Oh, oh yes—quite."
On the walk home Elizabeth leaned into Mack, holding his arm and resting her head on his shoulder. They were quiet all the way home and a warm breeze fluttered scents from the blooming trees along the Thames. Elizabeth felt content.
Six months later.
Elizabeth sat in her father's den, looking at the unfolded letter she had just received. Her father walked in, humming gently to himself carrying a pot of coffee.
"Anything interesting from the post?" He asked and Elizabeth hummed herself.
"Possibly."
"Oh yeah?" Ernest sat and looked over the pastries and cups at the letter in front of her. Quickly he snatched it up, "Let's see here."
Elizabeth tried to grab it but Ernest quickly stood, spinning around in his robe to escape her grasp. He read off:
"Dear Dr. Bender-Whitmore, we are pleased to have received your manuscript "A Life Saved" and after little deliberation we have decided, upon the wishes of our benefactor—blah blah blah—that we are pleased to publish your work and will begin with an initial run of fifteen hundred and a translation to follow in French—Elizabeth Bender-goddamn-Whitmore if you ain't my daughter!" Ernest ran back and scooped her into a bear hug, Elizabeth laughed and could hardly process any emotions. "How does it feel?"
"I don't know what to feel dad, it doesn't feel real."
Ernest clasped the letter in her hands and shoved it to her nose, "Smell it, darling—that's the smell of success."
Elizabeth laughed and smelled. It smelled like paper and ink and maybe—just maybe, a little something else she couldn't put her finger on. Maybe that was the smell of success. Finally.
Six more months pass after the initial release of her manuscript and it has been nothing short of a fire success in the medical community. She had been asked to speak in France, Switzerland, Germany, and now Italy. At the behest of Mack himself he was her travel companion and constant encouragement throughout the process. Part of Elizabeth suspected he was just excited to travel on her dime while she worked, though she would never confront him about that. Travel suited him well. But it also suited her in equal fervor.
Elizabeth loved being outside of England, experiencing new things—meeting new people. For the first time in a long time she felt like she had a purpose again.
They were in Rome for the next week and a half, and she was slated to speak at an international medical conference with speakers from Geneva, Beijing, New York, and Berlin. It was an incredible honor, one of pride and success.
In their shared hotel room Elizabeth sat in the powder room and looked at herself in the mirror. Could it be her? Here, here now and for this purpose? Donned in a summer Italian blazer and skirt, her hair shorter, overnight curls framing her face and lips ruby red—was this her?
It is my life's vow, I do not need praise.
Those were some of the first words that Ardeth had spoken to her, the night after she had operated on Abdal so many years ago. And now the words echoed in her mind, but why? Because she was now accepting praise and notoriety for her work—hardly a life's worth of it? Barely a quarter really.
What was she doing?
Elizabeth huffed and stood up and turned to the balcony rather than look at herself for a second longer. The air was warm in Rome this time of year, greenery and florals crawled up the walls and windows of every building, framing the streets and sidewalks like a fairytale.
Something about this idyllic visage struck a cord within her. A gust of wind brought with it was sharp smattering of dust. Elizabeth cursed and rubbed her eyes. Quickly she shut the door to attend to the dust in her eyes.
After running water and a rag over her face she looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes now bloodshot and make-up now askew and patchy. She made quick work, then, to remove it all and rustle her hair out of their curls.
A familiar face greeted her once again.
"A drink, I need a drink." She said to herself. "Darling, I'm going downstairs for a drink, would you like to join me?"
Mack hardly looked up from his book, "Oh I was just about to head down to that tailor shop Vincent was telling me about yesterday. But I'll join you tonight?"
Elizabeth watched his eyes, glued to the book, disregard her completely. "Very well, I will see you tonight."
Down stairs the bar was frothing with chatter and clinking glasses. She sat herself at the corner of the bar and the mustachioed bartender winked and muttered in Italian what she would like to drink.
"Martini, please."
The bartended turned and started on her order. While she waited Elizabeth saw a small smudge of black in the corner of her eye. Then on the window sill behind the bar she saw a black fluffy tail.
A cat, perhaps? It suddenly jumped out of the window onto the bar top and if Elizabeth had not been mistaken its eyes were…its eyes were bright, sublimely green. Just like…
"Eccoti, signora." The bartender set the martini in front her her and she grabbed it.
"Thank you."
The cat looked back at her and started slowly across the room. Elizabeth's feet made quick action before her mind could decide what to do. The cat slipped underneath a booth in the back and Elizabeth slid in just as a voice spoke from the booth behind her.
"It's that dust outside, you know? It's all over." A French man said in English to the men around him. They were huddled but audible, the drunken slur at the ends of his words took away what little caution he could control. She could not help but listen, though only vaguely interested.
"Blown up from the Sahara, that happens this time of year." Now a German man spoke.
The cat meowed at her feet and jumped onto the table and then to the window sill, disappearing without another thought. Elizabeth remained.
"This shouldn't affect the plan, should it?" To complete the trio, an English man spoke, older—dignified London native by the sound of it.
"No, no—our plan is air tight. We leave Sunday—" The German started, gulping down his wine, "We'll be in Cairo by Wednesday morning, set down the Nile and by morning will we be balls deep in all the riches we can imagine."
The men laughed and Elizabeth straightened. Now they had her attention. She looked out the window for the cat but it was nowhere to be seen. Had it indeed led her over here? Was it for this reason?
"And you're certain we can find it—we don't have a map or—or nothing?" The Frenchman stuttered.
"No, but do not worry—I know where to find it." The German said, "Nigel, you have your men ready at Alexandria for the port stop before Cairo?"
"Forty men, just as requested."
"Perfekt." The German clapped.
"Those desert guards won't know what hit them—the King's most loyal Navy brigade will be no match in Hamunaptra."
Elizabeth sputtered her martini and her blood ran cold. She muttered curses to herself as she quickly, but inconspicuously slipped from the booth. Once she was out of sight she all but sprinted to her room, martini still in hand.
Luckily Mack was gone when she returned.
She searched for pen and paper on his desk, anything she could write with. Quickly Elizabeth scribbled down what she remembered; how many men, what days they would be in Egypt, when they expected to arrive, everything. All in a letter addressed to;
Dr. Terence Bey
Cairo Museum of Antiquities
Cairo, Egypt
It was Friday morning, one day until the conference, two days until the gang of thieves set out for Egypt. Elizabeth hardly slept a wink since she had sent the letter to Dr. Bey three days ago. Every night she spied on the men in the bar, sometimes with Mack in tow—sometimes by herself.
They were plotting everything out in immense detail, with such detail she knew this German man must have spent a decade or more studying Hamunaptra, where to find it and how to take control of it. Though conveniently enough had offered no insight on understanding the consequences of these actions, the horrors that would befall the world if they were successful.
Elizabeth ran through different scenarios in her mind that morning in bed with a snoring Mack beside her.
If she gave it one more day without Medjai intervention she might have to stop them herself. But oh god, how on earth could she do that?
Lock them in their rooms, steal their boarding passes?
Elizabeth groaned, knowing those were menial obstacles at best.
"Go back to sleep Eliza." Mack muttered and Elizabeth groaned to herself.
"I can't sleep—I'm going to go out, to get some coffee."
"Okay, be careful."
"Mmhmm," she muttered, slipping on her pants and linen top. She pulled the curlers from her ends and ruffled them a bit. No lipstick applied today.
Outside the heat permeated through the air and the wind still carried bits of sand from the Sahara with it. It prickled her cheeks and neck, and it whispered in her ear.
After a quick coffee and a walk around the surrounding streets Elizabeth returned to the hotel.
Mack was pacing the room when she opened the room and audibly sighed when he saw her.
"There you are!"
"Were you worried about me?" Elizabeth smirked.
"No—I was worried you were going to be late, you have a reading at the college in twenty minutes."
Elizabeth's eyes widened, how could she have forgotten? Her last college read of the tour?
"Oh I completely forgot, but that's okay! All I need is my book and my bag and I'm ready."
"Good, good—get them and let's go!" Mack rushed her and Elizabeth grabbed her things as quickly as possible before they both raced to the college a mile away.
Elizabeth walked up to the podium and breathed out. In the audience a sea of faces, young and old, male and female alike—all calmed her. She started with her story of war; patching bullet holes, barbed wire eviscerations, soothing trench foot, and the like. Then she transitioned to the story they were all there to hear—the story of the child's hand, of Amil's hand she reattached on her first week in Cairo.
Elizabeth had made the conscious decision to change all the names in her book. She did this with purpose, to protect these people and their identities. Her main story now was about a child called Farouk.
Toward the end of her last story she saw a figure in the back row. A man, not very tall but sported a flurry of black curls and black robed outfit. Could it…could it be?
Her narration paused for a moment before she cleared her throat and returned to her reading. After that the man in black stood and left. Elizabeth hurried the end of her story and the audience applauded, none the wiser to her panicked conclusion.
While Mack left to have dinner with a few tailor friends he had made in the city, Elizabeth remained for book signing and a small question and answer session for those interested in sticking around. After another hour Elizabeth was exhausted.
Another book was slid across the table and she opened it without looking across the table.
"Who should I make it out to?"
"Abdal Hassan, your long forgotten best friend."
Elizabeth's eyes shot up and she smiled brightly. Quickly she stood and rushed to hug the man who she had not seen in years.
"Oh, my friend." She cried into his shoulder, "What a surprise—what are you doing here?"
"I am here because of this." He reached into his robes and pulled out her letter. She sighed in realization. Terence had sent Abdal.
"Let's talk about that privately, would you accompany me back to my hotel?"
Abdal and Elizabeth made quick haste to return unseen to her hotel room.
"This city is bizarre," Abdal walked around her hotel room, admiring the intricate decor. "Old but new at the same time."
"It is a strange city. Beautiful though."
"Mmm, Cairo is better."
Elizabeth laughed and most of her agreed. She shook herself out of reminiscing on Egypt to get down to why he was there in the first place.
"Abdal, I believe there is a serious threat to Hamunaptra. Three men have been talking in the bar for the past week, planning on an attack next week."
"Yes, so your letter says—they are in this hotel, yes?"
"Yes, I even found which rooms they were staying in." Elizabeth wrote them down quickly and handed him the paper.
"I will take care of them."Abdal then looked at her with a soft smirk.
"What?" She asked.
He wiggled a crooked finger at her, "You are still Medjai, even with fancy hair."
"Oh please Abdal, I just—" Elizabeth laughed at herself. This whole time she had not questioned whether it was her business at all to take action, she just did it out of pure instinct. "Perhaps you are right."
"Ardeth will be pleased." Abdal paused before realizing what he had said.
"Does he…does he know you are here?" Elizabeth shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she asked.
"Of course he does not."
Elizabeth sighed out and sat on the bed. She knew better than to expect him to come, it was probably better this way.
"Will you come back with me, Elizabeth?" Abdal asked and she immediately shook her head.
"No, you know I cannot do that—not now."
"Is it that you cannot return to Egypt, or that you will not?" Abdal suggested and Elizabeth did not have answer for him.
"Perhaps it is both."
"Please," Abdal knelt in front of her, "There are so little of us left and so much is changing."
"What do you mean—"
"Eliza! I got some champagne to celebrate your last reading! I know it's a little premature with the conference still tomorrow but I thought, why not!" Mack entered the room and stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing Abdal, "Hello? Who are you? Elizabeth, are you okay?"
"Mack, I'm fine, I promise—this is Abdal—a friend from Egypt." Elizabeth gestured to Abdal who bowed his head slowly. "Abdal this is…this is Mackenzie Elliot, my—"
"Fiancé, I'm Elizabeth's fiancé." Mack finished for her and shook Abdal's hand fiercely. Abdal, being the kind and playful soul he was wiggled his eyebrows at Elizabeth and spoke to her in Arabic.
"You are engaged? Why have I not gotten an invitation—I thought we were friends?" Abdal said seriously and Elizabeth struggled not to laugh.
"I apologize, my dear Abdal—the wedding is still not for another month, perhaps your invitation got lost in the mail."
"Excuses, excuses."
"Hey, hello?" Mack pulled Elizabeth to his side and rested his arm around her hips, "I hate to break up the friend reunion but I'm sure Elizabeth is tired from her reading today. I'm sure we'd love to have breakfast in the morning?"
Elizabeth felt bile in her throat at Mack's vice grip on her hip, discomfort rising in her. And Abdal saw it. Thankfully he only saw and did not intervene.
"Of course, I am interrupting." Abdal conceded and then continued in Arabic, "Please think about returning, Elizabeth. If this is what's hindering your return—just please reconsider. We could use your skill and grace on our side again."
Elizabeth nodded, but spoke in English, "Oh you leave tonight, what a shame. Thank you for stopping by Abdal, it was such a pleasant surprise—no matter how short it was."
"I'm leaving on boat tomorrow at sunrise, think about it."
Abdal bowed and let himself out quickly. Elizabeth watched the door close and suddenly wished she was on the other side of it with Abdal.
"What the hell was that, Eliza?" Mack asked, popping open the champagne.
"What do you mean?" Elizabeth busied herself with the glasses. "He showed up at my reading."
Mack scoffed as he poured two glasses, "I just—I just can't help but laugh."
"Why?" Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.
"It's nothing, I just never thought that whole tribe in the desert stuff was real, that's all."
Elizabeth took a small gulp of champagne, "Did I ever give you reason to doubt it?"
"It just sounded all a bit too fantastical, if I'm honest." Mack chuckled and sat on the bed, "I even questioned whether you knew Arabic as well as you said you did—but that just proved me wrong too."
"So this entire time you just thought I was what, lying to sell books?"
"Basically."
"What…" Elizabeth lowered her eyes and breathed out. This entire time he just thought she was exaggerating her experiences. "I…I can't believe it."
"What were you saying to him in Arabic anyway?" Mack asked, ignoring her shock.
"Oh, um." She cleared her throat, "He asked why he wasn't invited to our wedding."
"Oh well, that should be obvious. I'd never want someone like that at our wedding."
"Excuse me?" Elizabeth said, "Someone like what?"
"Darling, he had tattoos on his face and he's…" Mack trailed off and Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.
"He's what, Mackenzie? He's dark skinned?"
Mack sighed and looked away from her. Elizabeth could not believe what she was hearing, or inferring from this interaction—he might as well screamed it. She had known Mack for nearly two years now and never once had he given hint of any type of a racist vein. Elizabeth had to push.
"Mack, tell me right now—the reason he couldn't come to our wedding is because he's Egyptian, isn't it?"
Mack threw his hands up, "Yes, okay! I don't want fucking gypsy sand people at our wedding, alright—is that what you want me to say?"
"Mackenzie—" Elizabeth stopped herself, shock rippling through her body. Suddenly the only thought running through her mind was running. Running after Abdal, running back to Egypt. Running back to…
"Eliza, Eliza come here." Mack pulls her to the bed and she doesn't know how to stop him. Disgust ripples through her body so rapidly she cannot think straight. "Listen, if you want to invite your little friends to our wedding, that's…that's fine I guess."
"Is it, though?"
"If I don't let you, you'll probably leave me, right?" Elizabeth only looked at him, not dignifying the question with an answer, "Then I don't have a choice."
Mack pours another glass of champagne and downs it. He pushed her back with gentle force and stood.
"I'm going down to the bar. I'll see you in the morning."
Mack slammed the door on his way out and Elizabeth started at it again. Ripples, ripples, ripples of confusion and flight ricocheting throughout her body. She had to leave. She had to leave. But she was paralyzed.
Could she just leave? Just like that? Leave everything behind? A life, a career, a fiancé?
"I don't want this." Elizabeth said aloud, to no one else but herself.
That night Elizabeth laid in bed as a drunk Mack snored in her ear. The clock on the bedside table read four a.m., if she was going to leave now would be the time.
Slowly she slid out from beneath the covers and quietly started to pack her suitcase. Most of the items she brought on tour she did not need in Egypt, only basic essentials; one pair of pants, one shirt, one coat, one copy of her book, notepad, and pen. Elizabeth dressed and wrote out a letter to her father as quickly as she could.
At the door Elizabeth paused. She looked back at Mack and for a moment wondered how something so lovely could turn rancid so quickly. Like a flower left in water for too long. The relationship stunk of moldy roots before she could look inside.
Briefly she wondered if she should write him a note. Offer some type of condolence to her whereabouts, a final word. As she dropped the letter to her father off at the front desk she stopped the overnight attendant.
"Could you send a breakfast up to room four sixteen in a couple hours? And can you slip this note onto the tray as well?" Elizabeth quickly wrote on the back of the hotel stationary and folded it.
"Si signora."
The sun just barely peaked above the pinus pinea trees at the Port of Rome as a ship's bellowing howl echoed in Elizabeth's chest. In the crowd of merchants and families waiting to board Elizabeth found her dear friend off to the side, in the shadows.
When she approached him, Abdal did not recognize her at first. He avoided eye contact for a moment but when he looked back he grew a large smile.
"I see you have decided to join me, Doctor."
"So it seems." Elizabeth could hardly contain her nerves. Abdal chuckled and poked her hair.
"You still have these things—" Elizabeth, confused touched her hair too. She had left in such an excited hurry she had forgotten to take out her curlers. Quickly she pulled them out and her hair bounced into unavoidable curls. Once they were all out she looked around for a waste basket and disposed of them once and for all.