“I’m 25,” I told him. “That’s the truth all day. At least, until my birthday. Then I’ll have to update you.”
“Keep me updated. It’s a pressing issue,” he said, snickering.
As we walked through the market, Rami began to speak a bit more about himself, about his abilities. With a wave of self-assurance, he appeared more and more cocky. I sensed a darkness in him.
When he yanked me to the side to look at scarves, I tried to read his face. I began to ask myself unnecessary questions, like why he’d asked me to the market at all. Was he trying to sleep with me? Why hadn’t he tried to hold my hand?
Rami began to unwind scarves from their hangers, showing the strength of the stitch, the colors. They featured all sorts, the reds and the purples and the dark greens. And the stitching was so precise, showing a level of commitment to artistry and to the traditional aesthetics of Al-Jarra.
“I can tell how much you like them,” Rami said, eyeing me.
“How could you not appreciate them?” I asked. “Each one is made so uniquely, with such love…” I trailed off, finding myself lost in the stitching of a dark turquoise one. I brought my fingers over it, feeling the texture.
“Let me buy it for you,” Rami finally said, taking the scarf from my hands and lifting it for the salesclerk to see. “We’ll take this one—”
“No, no,” I said, suddenly stricken. I’d just seen the price of the scarf. It was more than I made in a week at the school, and I couldn’t imagine anyone paying for such a present. Especially someone like Rami, who I barely knew. And who was being particularly cagey about who he was, having not opened up about his family or where he lived.
“Why not?” Rami asked me, his eyebrows high. “Don’t you like it?”
“Of course I like it,” I told him, scoffing slightly. “It’s just too much money…”
“Is it?” he asked, incredulous, as if he really couldn’t see the price. He waved his wallet through the air, passing several bills to the salesclerk. With a flourish, he put the scarf around my neck and whipped it over my shoulder, laughing. “See? It suits you. Can you imagine your life without it now?”
I felt suddenly off kilter. Taking a step away from him, I rearranged the scarf around my neck, shaking my head. I felt a strange mix of fear and intrigue. His eyes were fiery with a passion I couldn’t understand. Certainly the passion couldn’t be for me. Could it?
“Thank you?” I said, turning away from him. I bobbed out of the crowd, trying to find a space to stand alone. I felt Rami following behind me, knocking into people as he passed them.
“Hey. Hey!” He reached forward, gripping my elbow. “Where are you going so quickly?”
I sniffed, feeling at the texture of the scarf. I couldn’t meet his eyes, feeling the strength of his glare. “I just can’t stay out much later is all. I have to go home and prep for tomorrow’s lessons.”
“But we only just got here,” Rami said softly.
“It’s been two hours. And I didn’t really even want to come at all,” I heard myself say.
This time, Rami was the one who looked smacked. He drew his hands across his chest, crossing his arms. After a long pause, he said, “Well, at least agree to go out with me again in a few days. Wednesday, we could do dinner at a proper restaurant—”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Rami,” I told him, shaking my head. I felt myself crushing him. But it had to be so. I couldn’t link myself with anyone. Not with so much going on at home.
Rami’s face fell. With a rush of sudden anger, he said, “Well, you know, I didn’t buy you all these things for nothing.”
My eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
He brought his hands through the scarf, feeling the weight of it. “I could take this off your shoulders right now, you know that?”
I stepped back, aghast. Suddenly, the other side of him was ringing true.
My lips opened, hunting for the right words to say. The right words to sting right back.
“You shouldn’t be so cocky,” I told him, hearing the volatility I’d so far managed to suppress. “You think you’re God’s gift to the world, but you’re nothing.”