Tuesday, May 30, 2006


I played back videos of him and me and me and him and happy times with lots of laughing and smiling and kissing and goofing around.There was a video where he mugged for the new web cam and I still smile back at all his rubber faced antics. He then turns to me and kisses my cheek and tells me that he loves me. I tell him to say it into the camera.

"Habibi. Elbee," he starts off calling me his love and his heart. "Ana mahabebek awy awy awy." I love you so so so much.

And then he kisses at the camera. I don't care who you are, or what you've read, or what you've had to live with. When you see that and feel that you want to wait for him to wake up.

There's another video where he starts off with talking but ends up kissing my cheek. I kept replaying that scene. I see myself. I see the "me" before all this happened and I envy her. I envy her knowledge of true love. I don't have that any more. I have only memories of that love.
Then, in that same video, I pull the back of his head downward and kiss his cheek in return. When I finish touching my lips to his face, I look into the camera so filled with contentment.
"You won't always feel that way," I wanted to talk to her--I mean me. "You are feeling so secure in your marriage. You are soaking up his every kiss and believing his every word. He's going to tell you that he wants a baby with you. You're going to think that it will cement your marriage, but it won't. It's going to tear it apart, because he's afraid of growing up and owning up to responsibility."
And I look into her eyes--my eyes and I know that she isn't going to see it coming. This terrible chain of events: his stress from overworking coinciding with the pregnancy, the bombshell of polygamy, the cruel romance before the birth, his relatives coming, the attempts to accept the situation, his reversals, the visits to the sheik, all the bleeding and all the pain, all the tears, trying and trying to do what's right. It's all ahead of this very loving, trusting woman.

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