Part 1- Brian's Story

Brian's Story - Part 1

10-December-2001

White sofa. Glass topped coffee table. Black and white area rug. Hardwood floors. Glass topped end tables. Sports magazines, TV remote, half-full glass left over from last night’s impromptu “get-together”. Collapsing into the black leather recliner, Sam gave up the fruitless search for her belongings, and his wallet.
“Damn it Becky” he hissed to himself, “If you needed money, you could have just asked.” But that would have been too simple. And one thing about Becky, she love a challenge.

The sun beat down on the red-haired, red-shouldered Becky. The sunburn hadn’t attracted her attention as she walked through the streets of Cairo. She was on a mission, and not easily distracted. At last, next to a stall selling touristy looking trinkets, jewelry and tee shirts with “Egypt” spelled out in pyramids, Becky found what she was looking for. A pay phone.
Fingering the newest charm on her bracelet, she picked up the receiver. “I’d like to make a collect call to the states” she said when the operator picked up. While the operator connected her through, Becky considered the detail of the silver fish charm she had. Sam had given it to her on her last stop over. It was wrapped for Christmas, but since it was February, she knew she had disappointed him by not stopping by sooner.
When pressed “Aren’t you going to ask why a fish?” she gave in and asked. She didn’t really care; she liked it anyway. “It’s a fish out of water,” Sam said, fastening it to her bracelet. “That’s how I feel when you’re gone.” He drew her chin up to look in her eyes. “Stay” he said. She hadn’t answered, but looked back at the charm. “Please. Stay.” She looked in his eyes and saw something there that moved her. To prevent him from asking again, knowing she couldn’t give him the answer he wanted, she kissed him.
“This is Robert Conrad. Who is this?” the voice said in the phone.
“Uncle Bert, its Becky.”
“Oh, Becky, how’s it going? Why the hell are you in Egypt? And why are you going by ‘Mrs. Bangle’? For a minute there I thought my high-school gym teacher was calling.”
“Long story, not a lot of time – unless you enjoy paying for overseas calls”
He grunted.
“Uncle Bert, do you have the book Dad left you?”
“Which one?” came the reply.
Becky smiled as she pictured her rotund Hell’s Angel uncle in the middle of a stack of musty books. “Its called ‘Tome of Mysteries.’ And yes, I know that’s a really Leave-it-to-Beaver, ultra cheesy name.”
“Got it”
“Is there a letter in there?”
“Yep”
“Good. Do me a favor, have Aunt Diane scan it into the computer and send it to me.”
“Okay. Which one?”
“Huh?”
“There’re two letters. One’s older and open, the other looks recent, and it’s sealed. Stamped “Confidential” in official red ink.”
“Oh, um, the old one. One more favor, Uncle Bert?”
“Send you the other letter to your local Western Union?”
“Yeah, and um…”
“Some money. Sure, no problem kid-o. Hey, make sure you’re keeping yourself covered. The sun’ll get you otherwise. I’ll have these out to you tomorrow”
“Thanks, Uncle Bert.”
“No problem, Beck.”
Becky pondered what he second letter could be as she left the pay phone. Dad hadn’t mentioned it. Maybe it was intended for him. She’d just have to wait and see.
Walking back to her hotel, Becky got lost again in the memory of her last night with Sam. She could tell he was anxious about something, and that he fish charm wasn’t the only thing he’d intended to give her, but she couldn’t let him propose, not then, knowing that she had to leave again in the morning. She went to get drinks after the kiss, and they caught up with each other. His new position, her recent travels, with the choice parts left out, of course. They finished the night on an exciting note, and when he woke up, she had gone, leaving no trace of her presence but a box of his favorite donuts, chocolate covered.
His PIN was still the same, and she used his credit card to get this set of airline tickets. She promised herself she’d make it up to him, next visit.
A small boy suddenly stepped in front of her waiving a beautiful green scarf with decoration in silver thread. “Pretty lady, pretty scarf”.
She shook her head at the child, and tried to move around him. He countered her step, and did not let her pass. God, she hated aggressive merchants. Especially when they stuck their children on you. That’s when you had to watch your pockets.
“Pretty lady, pretty scarf” he said again, with a friendly smile. Glancing around to make sure no other children had their hands in her pocket, she shook her head again and held out her hands.
“No money” she said.
“No money” the boy repeated shaking his head. He laid the scarf in her still open hands. “Pretty lady, pretty scarf” he said, and took off before she could protest.
Becky turned to the direction he went, to return the scarf to the stand he was working for. Doing a 360, she realized that none of the merchants nearby was selling scarves. Resigned, she folded up the scarf, put it in her pack, and went back to her hotel.