At the beginig

Tuesday April 29^th 2008… I had been working at the Southwest Regional Huntsman Cancer center in St. George Utah as a medical assistant for 2 years now.   And losing a patent to the battle of cancer still and I hope never dose get any easier.  That day we lost two at battle and had some devastating news regarding one patent that I had personally become friends with.  They say that its best you keep all relationships between patents strictly professional and never take your job home with you. “Who the hell are they anyways?  And what the hell has happened to their hearts??” 

I came home from work spent, done, and wondering why??  I now believe the fact that I did not have any kind of strong belief in religion Made my job that much harder. 

I turn the door, walk in aimlessly, dropping clothes like a trail for Hansel and Gretel to follow.

As stand in the shower as hot as I can handle I try to wash the day’s events from my life.  “No luck”

I slip into my over sized sweat pants and monster sized Mickey Mouse T-shit, pull a ice cold glass bottle of coke out of the refrigerator,  cuddle into my Lazy-boy with grandmas old Looney Tons quilted blanket, push play on the DVD, turn the volume up, grab the lap top and now try to drown the world out. 

I log into My-space, wishing I could some how completely log my self literally into a space far from reality.

“You Got Mail”
Dad:                 Subject:  Hi Hon
Meri’N’Ed:        Subject:  Hey chick
IssamRaih:      Subject:   None

IssamRaih?? Who is this?  I click into it.  It simply reads:

“How are you beautiful??  You know you have very very nice smile?

The littlest of smile begins to form as I read the simple note again.   In attempt to escape reality I click into his profile.  From the profile picture I can see he looks to be a little younger then my self, dark tan skin,  jet black hair, and very good looking. I begin to scuffle through his pictures.  “I wonder were he is from?” I think to my self clearly seeing from the pictures it is not America.  I scroll around nosing at his page and information. 

Name: Issam Raih  “Is-Sam, I-sam? Or maybe E-Sam?  Hum what kind of name is that?

Age: 25   “A little young” As I continue my critiquing of this total stranger
Home city:  Meknes Morocco.   “Spain” I answer
Occupation: Computer network programmer.  “Nice”
Favorite quote: A vaincre sans péril, on triomphe sans gloire.“no clue what that means”

“I carried watermelons” I look up to see a young Jennifer Grey in Dirty Dancing.  “I love this movie”. I said out loud to myself.   At that moment I realized it worked if even for a few minutes it worked I had escaped reality.  Thanks to this total stranger in Spain I had escaped the battle field of death.  I quickly go back to the simple E-mail and hit reply.  

“Thank you so much!! I really needed that today.  You will never know how much you helped me this day.  I hope you have a nice week.   Thanks again Teresa. 
P.S you have very beautiful eyes and a nice smile too. 

I finished reading the rest of my mail sign off and curl up to finish watching the movie and prepare for tomorrows battle.   I do not know if it was only day’s or weeks that went by.  But I honestly did not put another thought into the knight that saved me that day.  Until another E-mail came almost as simple as the last.

“How are you? I think of you a lot.  Tell me about you?  Me I good. I work much. Sorry my 4 English.” 

Small messages were sent back and forth until finally his asked the question I was dreading.  “Do you have Web cam?”  I HATE web cam!!!! 

Reluctantly I said ok and the next day I hurried home from work showered, got dressed, did my hair, put on make up, and was ready for our first long distance date.   Shorty into the question and answer period of getting to know one another he told me Morocco was not in Spain but was in Africa.  “Well that goes to show you American Public education at its best.”  Africa... I thought “lions and Rhinos, and sand oh-my.

Never stopping to think if that was true, then how the hell dose he have internet and work as a computer network programmer.  And that he didn’t speak spinach at all but was fluent in Arabic and French and learning what English he could.  Yet again this level of education did nothing to change my mind of Africa and men riding on camels in the streets. 

Our web cam Google translation long distance dates went on and soon became nightly.

 A few months later I went on a family vacation cruse to Mexico.  I hadn’t told my family about my new long distance friend, and had no plans of doing so.  Because he was just that and was only going to be just a friend.  He in Africa and I in Utah there was never any thought of it going further then that.  I had given Issam my itinerary and told him that I would E-mail him when I got home.   But almost as soon as we got back into a cell phone service area and not even off the ship.  Me and my whole family were standing on the Lido deck of the ship watching San Diego come back into view and talking about the weeks events my phone rings it’s an unknown number.  I answer

“Hello”

“Hello beautiful is Issam”

“Issam” I almost scream and screech like a little high school girl getting a phone call from the newest teenage heart throb.  My whole family looks at me and watches as I jump to my feet, trip over the beach chair and stumble through the obstacle course of carry on luggage pilled around me.  I try to get away as quickly as possible not wanting to share this moment with anyone. 

“Hi” I say as I try to collect my self.

“I miss you voice” He says

All I can do is giggle. “What the hell is wrong with you”? I scream at my self inside my mind. 

“You are home?”

“No we are still on the boat, Thank you for calling me” I mange to say

“I not have much time on card, I just wish know you good and know I miss you voice.” 

I melt a few more words are exchanged and then a promise to talk again as soon as I get home.  “Good bye”

I hang up turn back to my family only to see them all laughing hysterically at the scene that just had unfolded in front of them.

“Who was that?”  My father manages to belt out in between burst of laughter

“Morocco boy” My little sister Liz mocks

In unison the whole family now “OOOHHH”

“Shut up” I shout trying to hid the over whelming embarrassment yet excitement

“He’s just a friend!!”  

“For now” My sister Kristine chimes in

“ok, ok he is just a friend. Leave her alone” my father still being the parent ends it

Well I guess there’s no hiding it now Morocco Boy, was now more then just a friend.

By September we began talking about how and if it would ever be possible to meet each other and try to move the friendship along.   I explain to him that if that was ever going to happen he would have to come to America.   There was NO way I was going to go to AFRICA.  So Issam agreed and applied for a visitor’s visa. But was quickly denied!! Because he had a brother in Florida, that was in American on a workers visa,  there was too much of a chance Issam would not return and try to stay in America.

Devastated I began to accept the fact that just friends was all it would ever be.  But not MR. I get what I want Issam.   He had a diffent idea.

"Really you want me to come to Africa?  Lions, and rhinos, and sand Oh-my Africa?  Well it’s been nice talking to you but I don’t think so". 

I just couldn’t stop thinking about though.  It felt as if he was a long lost best friend and I didn’t want to lose him again.

  “Even if I was willing, Dad would pull me off the plane by my hair   and lock me in his basement for the rest of my life. It just wouldn’t be possible!”

But finally after weeks of Issam’s pleas and mounds of information about himself, his family, the US consulate and anything else he thought would help me to trust him and feel comfortable.  I booked the ticket for January 21^st 2009. 

Two days after Christmas Dad and Teresa,(my step-mom) came to St. George to visit.  As we sat at the local Denny’s, I was staring out the window; thoughts of how to tell dad that I was going to fly by myself to Casablanca Morocco to meet a man that I meet on my space. Was killing any kind of appetite I thought I had, the smell of food was making me noshes.  It was taking everything I had to not cry.  I knew what I was going to say would not only infuriate him but also brake his heart. 

“Teresa”

“Teresa”

“Oh-sorry dad I was just thinking about something.”

“I know.”  “So when are you going to Morocco?”

I have no clue other then to say I completely left my body at that moment.  I have no idea what feelings went through me. All thoughts had left me. 

“I leave in three weeks on January 21^st.”  I said my voice cracking with each syllable.

“We will talk later, just know I love you” He said in the most erry calm voice as he reached over the table and held my hand tight.  

Not another word was said about it. In the parking lot dad pulled me to him hugged me for the longest time, kissed the top of my forehead and said

 “Follow your heart but use your head. And always know how much I LOVE YOU”

MOROCCO...AFRICA

 January 21^st 2009 7:00 Am Las Vegas NV McCarran Air port flight 409 to Atlanta Georgia with connection flight 410 to JFK New York and then on to international flight 720 non stop to Casablanca Morocco… AFRICA.

  The point of no return, no turning back now, what am I doing??   

I am flying to Morocco to meet the man of my romantic comedy dreams. 

18 hrs later… 6:20Am local time I have know clue what day it is.  The plane lands, I look out the window off in the distance I see what must be the Casablanca air port. It is still dark all but a fire red line running through the sky as the sun tries to rise.   I step off the plane and on to an old green or maybe grey rusted buss. The air smells different, cleaner yet dusty.  As I sit down and stare out the window I try to not let my fears over take me.  The theme song to Casablanca begins to play in my head.  The most nervous little grin and giggle escapes me as I mouth the words “play it again Sam”  The bus pulls away from the run way and the fear hits me as if I was standing in front of the bus and not on it.   Thousands of voices begin to scream at me again. 

 “Say hello”

“Tell him Salam”

 “Shake his hand”

“Kiss him”

“Hug him”

“How are you going to greet him?”

“The camera adds ten lbs so maybe he won’t look the same”

“How will you know who he is?”

I can honestly say I do not remember ever getting off that bus the next thing I remember is an old breaded man yelling at me “pass port, pass port” I had him my papers he stamps it and points to a sign that say’s Baggage with a white arrow pointing down the hall.   I see the old woman from my plane so I follow her.  we stop at what I guess to be a baggage belt.   I look every were for Issam, no sign of him.   I try to remember how to breathe.  The room was silent or maybe my head was just drowning everything thing else out, just as I take my first deep breath I jump ten feet in the air thinking that the air port must be under attack. It was only the so called baggage belt starting up.  I think my bag was one of the first to come off I noticed that the wheel was broken and it looked as if the handle may be too.  I pulled it as hard as I could, it knocked me back agents the cold wall.  I look around again no sign of Issam.   I pray he will come soon.  Were could he be I thought.  I watched as all the other passengers gathered their bags and made their way all leaving in different directions.  Still no Issam!!!!!!  Every man I saw from a distance I pray is him and that he will recognize me.  My thoughts turn from our greeting to more thoughts of shear tare. 

“What am I going to do if he doesn’t show?”

“What is going to happen to me?”

“Oh-My GOD I am in Africa!!”

“I am going to become an American sex slave”

“BREATH”

I can feel my face on fire everything beings to become blurry from the tears whaling in my eye’s.   There are only a few people left in the room and still nothing no one even giving me a second look. 

The tears begin to fall down my check.  My face falls into my hands the only thing holding me up is my large luggage propped up agents the wall.  A small quite female voice says “hello” I try to look up but can’t seem to pull my hands from my face.  

 “You OK?”  I shake my head no.

 “Someone with you?” 

I see a silhouette of a veiled woman from between my fingers as my hands slid off my face.  

 “Hhheeehhee nooott heeerreee hhhheee leeeeffffttttt meeee”

 I have no idea other then to say it is an unspoken understanding between women that she was able to know just what I was saying.  I see her smile trying to hold back laughter.  Anger must have come over my face as she quickly said in her broken English.

“I sorry but you have someone pick you up you go through security first.” 

 I look at her for the first time she is a very beautiful younger looking woman dresses in full Islamic attire,  as she points to a man standing at a door way with the biggest riffle I have ever seen strapped to his back.  She puts her arm around me and says

 “Come let’s see, we can find you friend in there”

I gather my stuff up.  Knowing exactly what I was thinking she stops at a small bath room first.  I wash my face and try my best to only look tired and not like a fool.  She smiles and says “Is ok you have beautiful smile” 

We walk together my heart begins to beat again.  Security checks the bags and sends us through to what now looks more like and Air port.  I look around there are a few men sitting at a small coffee shop in the corner we walk over but no one looks even close to Issam.   She asks

 “You see him”

Again I can only shake my head “No”. She squeezes my hand and say’s

 “Is ok no worry ok?  You have phone number for you friend?”

  I hand her a stake of papers that has everything from Issam’s address down to his blood type and family history.  She laughs

 “You are ready.  good” I try to smile

“You have money?”

  “Only American” I say.

  “Ok you go there and ask for little exchange”

 She points to what looks like to be a ticket both.   I leave my bags with my new best friend!!!!   I hand the man behind the counter a 10.00 bill he hands me back a hand full of bills and a few coins.

She yells to him something in Arabic.  He takes back a few of the bills he just handed me and now gives me a hand full of coins.

 “Shukran” I tell him.

 I turn back to my new found savior; she is holding a pay phone and Issam’s information papers.  I hand her the money she drops the coins in and begins to dial. 

 “Aslam A lakum” It’s Issam’s voice I can tell.

  She begins speaking very fast maybe even yelling a little bit.  A smile over comes me and begins to calm me down. 

“Good” I think to my self he deserves to be yelled at.  Just as I think she is going to hand me the phone she hangs up.  The bus load of fear it’s me again.

 "He on the train.   He very very sorry, he be here maybe 10 min more.   I can not stay with you I must go to get my train. Would you like little coffee why you wait?”

 “ No, I wish you could stay”   I say

 “Not worry he sounds very sorry and honest he is good man no?” 

  I hope so I think as I nod my head yes. 

 “I put my number on the paper for you, you have any problem you call me ok”

“Yes thank you so much.” 

And without even exchanging names, only a small hug and a very big smile she was gone.  I looked down at the paper and saw her number but still no name.   As I watched each passing man, I see one man coming towards me he looks young enough he’s good looking maybe this could be him.  But without even a glance he passes me by and walks out the sliding door and into a taxi.

Now this is the part of the story that me and Issam will never agree upon.  He says he arrived at the air port not later then 7:30Am the exact time that my plane was scheduled to arrive. Meaning that my whole ordeal was less then an hour long.  I on the other hand am sure it was more like several hours later. 

I see a man turn the corner, running as if he will miss his flight.  I smile I know it is Issam.  Just as I stand up he pulls me into his arm holds me as tight as he can yet so gentle.   Smelling my hair he repeatingly says “I am sorry I am so so sorry”.  I melt… It is over I am safe!! 

He pulls back to see my face “Oh-my god you have been crying, I am so sorry, please forgive me and show me your beautiful smile”  I kiss him and every fear I have ever had in my entire life seems to vanish.

“Should we go?”  I asked waiting to get out of the air port and move on from the whole morning events. 

 “You must call you father first.  He be very worried I know”

 I smile I love the way he always is putting family first.

 “Please not tell him I late ok?”  He says with the most childlike grin as his pulls a pre-paid phone card from his pocket.