Golden Bird

Rashid tried to keep his mind on his work. O.P.E.C. was meeting again in a few weeks, and he wanted his arguments against a cut back in oil production to be complete. If he was to implement the plans he had for his country, he needed those oil revenues. He planned to build schools to educate his people and hospitals to care for them. He knew in his heart the way to survive was to modernize, but it would be hard. The ways of his people had been virtually unchanged for centuries, their way of life resisted change, but he would try.

However right now his thoughts were distracted. The facts and figures in front of him were lost in a blur as he longed for Sara to be in his arms. He pushed at the papers and stood up. He went to the double glass doors that led to the courtyard garden. It was late afternoon, and Sara would have been taking a swim in the pool, if she were still here.

Rashid stepped outside, and as if in a trance, headed across the courtyard to Sara’s rooms. Inside, all was quiet; no light laughter to greet him—though at this point, he would have even welcomed one of her tantrums. He went into the bedchamber and sat on the bed. Looking around the empty room, he spied the corner of a pale blue veil, hanging, lifeless, from the wardrobe. He took the veil and buried his face in it’s softness. Her scent still clung to the fabric, and Rashid breathed deeply of it, then rolled the scarf into a ball and stashed it in his pocket.

He took one last look around the room as if searching for another trace of her, but finding none, turned and walked out, his head bent in sorrow. He had never felt such pain of loss before in his life. And it was tearing him apart. It was as though he had lost a piece of himself. He went back to his study and to the little closet built into the bookcase. He unlocked it with a small gold key and inside was a water pipe. He filled the bowl of the pipe with a small chunk of hashish. The forbidden drug would help him to forget, no, that was wrong, for it only dulled the pain—nothing could make him forget.

A knock sounded at the door, and Rashid stashed the pipe away before saying, “Enter.” Seeing that it was his father, bowed low in greeting.