A TRUE NIGHTMARE

With two small infants in tow, it took Ardeth longer than he expected to get back.  However, he plodded along tirelessly and as quickly as possible.  He held onto the hope that when he arrived home, his Leven, his sweet malak [angel], would be waiting for him.  He refused to believe that her light had been put out forever, refused to believe that she had sacrificed her life to an evil goddess.  However, he had seen what happened, had heard the words leaving his long since dead father.  One did not utter 'sacrifice' without it actually involving death.  His grieving heart didn't understand.  How could a light so vicious and bright suck away his beloved wife while saving him at the same time?  What he had thought was Raiyur was actually Leven's protector, Hathos.  Why would her protector take her away from him and her children?  There were so many questions and no answers. 

As the village came in sight, his heart kicked up a notch in anticipation.  The whole time, he was begging and pleading that his wife would be there.  If he didn't see her inside, he thought he might become a frothing maniac.  He went in cautiously, looking around.  Gently, he laid his children down on the pallet.  When they noticed his absence, both began to wail in unison.  For a moment, he was completely focused on the environment around him.  He moved no further than six inches from the babies, because he didn't know what type of trap he might be walking into.  He glanced around him.  How had he ever thought this structure bright and inviting?  The inside was drab and cold.  The different view of the room saddened him somehow, tweaked his heart.  It looked exactly as it did before Hazz died.  Leven's presence, her new blood, had given the structure life.  Without her influence, it had become the same somber domain he had remembered from childhood.  A piece of him died at that moment.  She was not here.  She was gone.  Her life and love had been sucked from this world and taken to another.  Was she dead?  Alive?  Was stuck in some in-between place?  Wherever she was, he was certain he would never see her again.  At that very moment, he wanted to fall apart, and had the greatest desire to simply beg to be taken away.  He couldn't do it.  He couldn't live without her, couldn't withstand another loss so great.  This loss was the greatest he had ever known.  There were two things that stopped him:  Azizah and Adnan.  Fighting back his grief and pain, he turned to his squalling children and offered as much comfort as he could.  Their bodies, so delicate and light, rested against him lovingly, trustingly.  He had come extremely close to losing his entire family, but his beloved children had been spared.  These glorious little extensions of himself and his wife were the most important people to him now.  He cradled them both close to his body, and at that point, he lost his footing.  He came down onto the pallet, not hard enough to jostle his already upset children, but just hard enough to shake him.  Their cries began to taper off before stopping altogether.  He glanced down at them, his little miracles, and saw that they had fallen asleep.  Ever so gently, he laid them back down onto the pallet.  The great warrior, defeated a second time, buried his face into his hands and cried.

After an hour or more, Ardeth's grief abated for the time being.  He heard the quiet approach of footsteps from outside.  Not exactly knowing what to expect, he immediately took a defensive stance.  Whoever wanted to challenge him would meet a swift end.  There was a knock and then the door opened.  Expecting a minion or the goddess herself, he was taken aback by the sight of his visitor.  It was Mukhtar, Hazz's apprentice.  He hadn't seen much of the teenaged boy since the children were born.  He stared at him for a long time before any words dared to reach this throat. 

"Why do you come," Ardeth demanded.  He didn't desire the company of anyone right now, just that of Adnan and Azizah.  "If you do not know already, I am grieving." 

Mukhtar nodded respectively.  "Yes, Chieftain, I am aware.  Your wife is not dead."  Before Ardeth could demand her location, the young man held up his hand.  "Please, my Chieftain, if I may."  When Ardeth settled back a little, he continued, "Raiyur wanted to send her back to her time as a punishment, as a way to separate you from her.  Your wife challenged the goddess and asked that she be taken instead.  She sacrificed herself to prevent you and the children from leaving this earth.  It was not Raiyur who sent her away.  Isis and Hathos dealt a solid blow to the goddess.  Yet, it came with a price.  As her protector, Hathos could not take her; it would not serve her purpose to do so.  She could send her away.  She has gone back to her time, but without the amulet she can never return.  She will awaken in her bed as if nothing ever happened to change her life.  She will not remember you or the children.  She will go on with her life there as you will here.  It was the only way to satisfy the balance without taking her life."

Although she was alive, the fact that she was forever exiled from him didn't make matters any better.  In fact, it worsened the situation.  When he first lost her, it was he who would have never seen the children.  At his second loss, she would never know they existed.  Somewhere in the future, his wife lingered.  There were no memories inside her, and none would ever enter her.  She had a husband and children that she would never see again, never remember.  The rage and grief came back full force.  How could this be better?  How was it better?  Then there was disbelief.  He gazed at the young apprentice, still expecting some type of trick or trap. 

"How do you know all this?  How do I know you are not a minion sent to destroy my children?  How do I know," he demanded harshly. 

"Chieftain, your wife, your Hafa, communicated this to me before she went back.  She knew only when it was told to her.  She fought it, raged against it, but it was out of her hands."

The moment Ardeth heard the word 'Hafa' leaving Mukhtar's mouth, he realized that the boy was telling the truth.  No one outside he and his wife knew of his special nickname for her.  He only uttered it in her presence and hers alone.  He turned away from the boy.  He couldn't look at him, couldn't face the truth of the situation.  Leven would go back to 2001 as if he had never touched her life, as if she had never touched his.  However, she had.  She had a strong hold on his heart, an eternal hold, and the children were part of that.  How could a mother not remember her children?  How could she not remember her husband?  So many moments and events flashed before his eyes, the first time he saw her, the first time he made love to her, their wedding, the birth of his children.  It swirled together in a blinding mix and had the ability to drive him insane.  He would never believe that Leven wouldn't know, wouldn't remember.  They were bound together for all eternity, and they would not stray from that.  It mattered little that seventy years separated them.  I will not give up.  I will not release my hold on her.  I will find her if it takes the last of my energy, the last breath I have.  I will not live without you, without my Hafa.  We will find a way.  I am forever determined that we shall. 

*  *  *

2001

Leven awoke an hour or so before the alarm clock went off.  It was a rare occurrence when she did that, but some little internal instinct pushed her to awaken.  It was around four in the morning and still dark outside.  However, she felt the urge to get up and do something.  There was some little chore that was necessary, but she had forgotten it.  What was it?  What was she to do?  She knew she had to go to work at the pawnshop, but the weird sensation she felt led her to believe there was something else that needed her undue attention.  Shaking it off, she lay back down and tried to go back to sleep, but she couldn't.  Wide-awake now, she gazed around the room, wondering what was off kilter.  Suddenly, she felt totally alone in the world.  She had lived alone for many years and it hadn't ever bothered her before, why should it now?  She sat up in her narrow bed and pushed the covers off her body.  She drew her knees up close to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.  What was it?  What was missing from her life?  There was a great yearning inside her, but she couldn't identify it.  As she clasped one hand over the other, she touched a ring.  She lifted her left hand and stared at it.  When had she gotten a new ring?  She hadn't bought a piece of jewelry for herself in ages.  She reached over and turned on the lamp to get a better view.  It was a band made from tri-color gold and had bizarre black etchings around its circumference.  It appeared antique and expensive.  Had she unconsciously swiped something from the shop the day before and didn't remember?  Was that it?  The ring was beautiful and different, one she had never seen duplicated.  It almost appeared to be a wedding ring.  A wedding ring?  When she thought about that, her brain was tweaked again.  What the hell?  She wasn't married, wasn't dating anyone, and had no desire to at this stage in her life.  Perhaps she had won it at the fair she and Eva had attended and she simply forgot about it.  It was the only logical and rational explanation.  However, it didn't strike her as some cheap imitation.  It was real and solid, astonishingly gorgeous.  She touched it again and another brief flash entered her mind.  It was gone the moment it entered.  She had never felt so bizarre or unsettled in her life.

Her eyes moved across the darkened room and she settled them on the gaudy model of the Pyramid Arena.  She was always fascinated by pyramids and longed to go to college to study the ancient culture.  It appealed to her, but she never understood why or how.  Her family had no ties as far as she knew, and she didn't necessarily believe in past lives or any of that crazy stuff.  Yet, there was that yearning inside her, eating at her insides like a persistent ulcer.  The ring meant something to her, but she couldn't put her finger on it.  There was something missing from her life, but she couldn't identify it.  She felt incredible heartache with no reason for it.  She didn't know what these feelings were or where they were coming from.  She ran her hands through her hair, suddenly realizing it was up in a tight French braid.  What the hell?  She never braided her hair, never had a need for it.  She undid it and worked her fingers through it, loosening it about her shoulders.  There was something about her hair, wasn't there?  What was it?  There was something she liked about hair as well.  What is going on inside me?  I don't understand.  Jesus Christ, would someone give me a damn clue.  It came to her suddenly, almost in a blinding flash.  It lasted a few seconds, and it would remain the last memory of her former life that came to her for some time.  Ardeth, maHabbi [love].  My beautiful Adnan.  My beautiful Azizah.  It was gone as soon as it came.  After that, Leven grew tired and sleepy.  She settled back onto her bed and closed her eyes.  Within seconds, she was asleep.  She didn't hear the alarm clock an hour later and would not awaken until midday.

When Leven awoke, it was too late to open the pawnshop and her boss didn't yell at her too much when she called in sick.  However, she couldn't avoid the casino.  Tonight was a busy night and she was working the high rollers again.  Once at work, she went into her usual mode.  Ignore the leers, the pinches, and the rudeness.  Take orders, accept tips, and move on.  She hated showcasing her flesh like this, but a job was a job.  She moved through the crowd, feeling suffocated, and blindly took drink orders.  The high rollers were hot tonight and more than once, they had thrown chips on her tray worth up to a hundred bucks.  She would save it, put it away.  She had a dream to go to college and study ancient Egypt.  She swept the crowd again, because every five minutes, new players entered the room.  Hers was a never-ending job.  Thank God she managed in those stupid high-heeled shoes.  From somewhere close, she heard a man speaking, his accent different than what she had grown accustomed to hearing.  She began to search around the throngs to see who it was.  She noticed him standing in the corner chatting up a well-dressed woman in a tailored suit.  He was tall, probably over six feet, and had short black hair dusted with gray here and there.  There was a bit of a prickly shadow of a beard on his face.  She couldn't see his entire face, but had a fairly good glimpse of his profile.  There was something about this man that touched her.  She didn't know him, had never seen him, and she thought it stupid to feel connected to someone she had never met.  How ridiculous.  People just don't meet and simply know or understand each other.  It simply doesn't work that way.  There has to be something, some tie that binds them.  Before those thoughts entered her mind, she had been hell-bent to approach him and talk to him, find out who he was.  However, her thoughts were silly and obtrusive.  If she approached him with that 'baby, let's talk, we connected' shit, he would call in security and have her ass arrested.  She turned away from him, but the handsome stranger with the accent haunted her the rest of the night.  Each time as she passed him, his voice nearly sent chills up her spine.  She avoided him as much as possible, but as nice looking as he was, it was difficult staying away. 

After work, she ran out to her car.  It was getting later by the second and she had to be up no later than six.  In her rush, she dropped her keys and handbag.  She uttered 'shit' under her breath and turned to retrieve them.  Before she had the chance, the man from inside had them in his hands and held them out to her.  Has he been following me or am I just paranoid?  His eyes were dark and consuming.  "Tha-Thank you," she said absently as she took her dropped items.

He smiled a little.  "You're more than welcome."  Without another word, he moved past her on to his own vehicle. 

As she watched him walk away, she called, "Hey!  What's your name?"

He stopped and turned toward her.  "Frank," he said before turning away to go on whatever mission awaited him.

"Thank you, Frank," she called after him.

He glanced at her over his shoulder, smiling a little.  His smile shook her more than his voice.  Jesus.  What was that?  She shook it off and went to her car.  It was time to get her ass home.  As soon as she arrived, she dropped heavily onto her small bed and kicked off her shoes.  Uh God.  Her feet were killing her.  She found herself once again staring down at the ring on her finger.  It bothered her, disturbed her.  She took hold of it to slide it off her finger, but she hesitated.  If she removed it, she would betray a trust of some sort, but what?  This ring meant nothing to her; it was merely a decoration for her finger.  Giving up, she allowed the ring to stay where it was and quickly undressed for bed.  Six o'clock would come early for her, much too early.  However, her internal clock refused to let her sleep past four.  It was the most ridiculous and unexpected occurrence she had ever experienced.  She was as tired as hell, but didn't understand how her body had the energy to wake itself up so damn early. 

It seemed as if every part of her body cried out to her.  Then there was the matter of the weird dull ache in her breasts.  She had never experienced that before.  They appeared normal and weren't necessarily sensitive to the touch, but they sometimes felt heavier.  She was losing her mind.  It was the only explanation.  She was completely and utterly convinced.  She needed the services of a head shrinker.  Perhaps one of them could straighten her out and give her back her life.

*  *  *

1932

Ardeth had just quieted the fussy babies.  It seemed that he alone could not satisfy them.  His children were very sensitive.  They knew that all was not right in their world.  They knew an element was missing, and he more than they experienced it to a high degree.  Although he had married Leven and thought their bond unbreakable, he still hung onto the small photo of her that he took from her picture album.  He couldn't yet look at it.  The pain was so very fresh, the wounds so very deep.  The elders' solution was to find him another wife.  They had actually been jumping up and down, doing whatever they could to secure a new woman for him.  He would not take another wife, even if it meant he'd spend his mortal life alone.  The thought seemed vulgar, an abomination.  Unlike other men, when he married, he married for life; no other woman would touch his heart again.  No other woman should ever dare.  He settled back on the pallet, immediately noticing how large the space was.  He had lost her forever, would never retrieve her, and he didn't know how long he could live without her.  The ache was incredibly vicious and biting. 

Oh, maHabbi.  Wainak?  [Oh, love.  Where are you?].  He closed his eyes tightly against the call.  He knew that when it came, she was dreaming.  She would forget upon waking.  He ached to call back to her, but when he tried, it was a useless feat.  The words never reached or touched her.  She left an imprint on him, one that would never fade with time.  Would he know her again in her world as a feeble old man?  Would he even reach that age?  What about the twins?  It hurt and the more it hurt, the angrier he became.  Why was it just that she was taken?  What sense did it make?  Ana maHabbi inta [I love you], came her second call.  He had to block it out, drive it away, especially if he wanted his sanity to hold out.  It must.  Adnan and Azizah were depending on him.  As much as it killed him, he blocked her voice completely out of his mind.  He would have to turn a deaf ear to her from here on to infinity.  He would keep the connection, the hold, but he would not let her voice inside.  It was a matter of time before he became a victim of circumstance as his father.  He would defer to Mukhtar for help.  Perhaps the young apprentice could aid in the exorcism.  Ana maHabbi inti, malak [I love you, angel].

Ana maHabbi inti, malak.  Leven jarred herself awake.  She hadn't realized that she had fallen asleep at the boss' desk.  She looked up and around her, glad that no one had come in and robbed them blind.  She had heard something, some type of strange phrase.  It was disturbing but touching at the same time.  What did it mean?  What did any of this mean?  She glanced down at the ring again and felt incredible sorrow take hold of her heart.  She had lost someone close to her heart.  She felt it and knew it deep down inside.  There was a piece of her missing, but she knew she would never find it again. 

Oh, maHabbi.  Wainak? 

____________________

To be continued…