Chapter 4


Crawling onto her bed, Clarisse smiled, remembering the previous night with Talmadge. They had danced all night, well into the early morning hours anyway. He had taken her on a short guided tour of the popular city of Cairo which was lighted beautifully during the night, and then on to breakfast. She had not remembered being so happy in a long time. Sighing, she closed her eyes, trying to catch a nap before having to return to her queenly duties. True, she was still fully dressed, and her heart and mind raced at the excitement of him, but she was exhausted and willed for sleep to overtake her, even if just for a few hours.


Joseph had finally pulled himself together enough to emerge from his room. Her suite was quiet, and he had figured she had fell fast asleep. He stood looking at the door to her bedroom, and desperately wanted to catch a glimpse of her sleeping, as she looked so beautiful and innocent like that. No, he could not bring himself to look, just a peek would be all his heart needed right now to fall apart.

Instead, Joseph chose the decent thing to do. Deciding to go out, he knocked on the make-shift office door, and at her "come in", Joseph informed Charlotte that he was going out to breakfast. It was his way of asking if she needed him, for he was never one to leave unannounced.


Strolling the narrow streets of the city, now coming alive with the morning sun, Joseph found himself amongst the rush hour of the Egyptian work force. Now that he was in the midst of it, it wasn't much different from his own country. True, the language was foreign, and the dress had room for improvement, but the citizens were much the same. Smiles greeted him as he made his way, strolling the sidewalk, eager to taste the local cuisine.

Finding shops and gift stands were easy, as they were everywhere to be seen. Clearly the livelihood of the folks here was tourists, and they depended on them for survival. Joseph had caught the attention of many of them, causing them to wave and motion him to join them, eager for his credit card number. He had turned them all down, telling himself that souvenir buying could come later, besides he was here on business and not pleasure. No, there had been no pleasure on this trip.

It was the woman standing in her doorway that caught Joseph's attention. She was old and short, slightly bent over at her back. She reminded Joseph of his own mother, her frail body as it had gotten older and much wiser. Her head was covered, showing only part of her face, but the look in her eyes gave Joseph no doubt as to her identity. Whoever this woman was, she was a 'seer' as they termed it. Her visions of the future had made her a good living, and had given many people much hope as to their life ahead.

Sensing the frustration in the crowd he stood in the way of on the street, Joseph moved over to the side, even closer to the woman. He could tell of her smile, although he couldn't see it. She nodded, closing her eyes momentarily, motioning for him to enter her lowly and humble shop.

Joseph stepped through the hanging beads in the doorway, not knowing why he dared to enter. He had never believed in this kind of thing, although many stories had tried convincing him that something was at work in these people. Glancing around at his surroundings, he indeed felt content with being here. Bottles, mostly made of colored glass, filled her shelves, looking like the small art gallery back home, Joseph thought. A small round table sat on the floor before him, with a chair covered in black leather almost calling his name. The table smelled of jasmine, a not-so-uncommon smell in the shops of Genovia. It was as if she had expected him, and made her surroundings to feel like home just for him.

Her feet shuffled as she came into view again, holding what looked like an hourglass, as she emerged from a back room.

"Please, sit," she said, pointing to the leather clad chair. "I had it brought here just for you." The woman's voice was soft but very stern, and Joseph couldn't help but feel like a schoolboy again.

"For me? How did you know I was coming? Wait..you didn't...you couldn't have. You tell everyone the same thing." Joseph proudly displayed his knowledge of tricks that most shopkeepers used on the bypassing tourists.

The woman sat, unmoved by his declaration, laying the hourglass out before them. "The sand is stormy now, watch it twist and twirl as it passes to the next chamber." She motion to Joseph to watch, showing him the tornado-like spiral the sand created as it moved down. "She is with you." This last sentence left Joseph intrigued.

"Who is with me?"

"She your heart desires." Joseph couldn't believe the words he heard come from her mouth. Maybe it was just coincidence. "Her skin is not the color of sand. The color of this sand, of Egyptian desert sand." She handed him the glass, tracing it with her fingers, showing him the dark sand. It was much different than the sand he knew, the pale grains on the coast of Genovia.

"Your name is Joseph," she blurted out, hardly pronouncing his name correctly.

"Yes," he answered, stunned by her knowledge. She could have seen his picture in the media, but they hardly ever mention his name.

"I just know these things, they come to my mind like memories do to yours," she tried explaining it to him. "She has a great capacity to love, it is written in the sand. So do you, I see. You wear the color of death, yet you have life in your eyes. Give me your hand," she held out her hand, inviting him to join her.

"She doesn't love me," he found himself telling her, not being rational at the moment. She traced her fingers over his palm, following the ridges and crevices like rivers of running water.

"Look into the glass, watch the sand fall. Tell me, what color do you see? What is the color of the sand now?" Falling from one chamber to the other below, the grains of orange Egyptian sand became the scene in Joseph's eyes. He sat transfixed on the hourglass for minutes, almost in a daze, until her words brought him back.

"What color is the sand Joseph?" She repeated to him, eager to hear his answer.

"The sand is pale, parts of it a little darker, with spots...light brown spots. Lots of them." The old woman nodded at his description, understanding the words that were so perplexed in Joseph's mind right now.

"When you see that color, you will find the one who truly loves you. She and only she, will carry love for you for eternity, it will multiply as the years pass, growing to heights you never knew before. Do not be hasty with seeing the color, it will come to you, in time. Be patient, but above all, remember the color of the sand you saw Joseph."

"Do you know who she is? Joseph found himself asking.

"Yes, I know, but it is not for me to tell you. You must wait, let things take their course in time." She patted his hands, reassuring him of the future to come.

"How will I know, colors are all around..."

"You will know," she forced onto him, stressing the words. "Now go, be patient Joseph, and wait for the color of the sand." She stood, motioning towards the door for him.

"What do I owe?" Joseph asked.

"You owe only to yourself." The old woman walked in the back, and he took the cue to leave.

Stepping out in the bright sunlight, Joseph squinted. He wasn't sure what to make of the old woman, or the words she spoke to him. It had been a very strange experience for him, but yet Joseph felt as if the woman had given him some kind of hope. Maybe it wasn't the hope he was looking for, but it was hope nonetheless.

Finding a little cafe, Joseph was more than happy to wait the few minutes after he ordered. "Wait," he spoke softly to himself. Had that not been what he had done for the last so many years? Wait for Clarisse. He had spent it waiting for her. Had he been wrong in doing so? Now he was more confused than ever. Could it be possible she was not the right woman for him? Could the old woman be right? He remembered the past few days, remembered seeing how happy Clarisse had been with that other man; surely it was he that she cared for. He could make no mistake in that. Still, his heart ached with the thought.

Above him hung a picture of the Egyptian desert. A great mass of orange sand, piled high in dunes, looking like massive hills. Nothing but sand. The caption below read "The Great Sand Sea is a peculiar place". Joseph nodded to himself, he certainly could agree with that.