El-A7wa (The Cafe) Chapter 6-10

©vessa07DUP2016  
All Rights Reserved  

Prior to the trip I faithfully practiced at least two games a week, being sure to not get into games in which I knew the players were amateurs however a game with talent is rare almost impossible to find online unless you create your own group. We chatted at least once a week and you told me about the guys that you played with, most of whom were older than me and had been playing for over 20 years! In comparison, my four years of playing must have seemed humorous to them when you said I would be joining them.  You attempted to change to location, for my sake, however my stubborn fortitude craved the authentic experience. Sure harassment was rampant in certain parts of Cairo, and ok there were literally no females who went to this café and probably not even female designated bathrooms, it was probably outside in the street with barely enough manufactured light to see the faces of the cards and the gentlemen that I would be joining most likely would not be used to playing with a foreigner or female or either. I would certainly be taking a risk, but when in my life have I ever played it safe… all boys military school, exiting the military to travel to N. Africa on my own with very little knowledge of the language and knowing no one, converting to Islam in spite of the enormous pressure for me not to, wearing the veil in the face of very real discrimination here in America, going to the a7wa from the beginning even a polished one occasionally frequented by other women is still definitely a boys club, traversing some of the roughest neighborhoods in Cairo regardless of obvious safety concerns and predatorily visible dangers. Yeah, this would be one of the less perilous journeys I have made but certainly out of your comfort zone. I know you cared for me as a friend, and when we were alone you had been protective of me, so I am certain your distress level was high at the thought of taking me to such a forbidden place.  It was just as important for me to test myself as it was for you and yourself and I was determined to examine your limitations.    
   
As I arrived I realize how much I missed Cairo, not the humidity or cloud of pollution that hits me when I get off the plane, nor the traffic with drivers who have no regard for human life and the unenforced nonexistent traffic laws.  The people, the skyline, the Nile, and most of all the cafes. In America it’s all about the bars and the ball park, in Cairo it’s about the cafes the library and book stores, theatres, the shopping centers and the street. Walking is such challenge in a city like this but when you get chance to when the traffic is not overwhelming and there’s a cool breeze providing temporary liberation from the oppressive heat, in those moments on the Nile or the large wide sidewalks of Maadi, it’s equally invigorating and inebriating.    
   
I arrive at the apartment we rented in Maadi nestled equidistant from the café and my favorite book shop-by far one of my weakest temptations in regards to shopping. Living in the U.S. has many advantages even as a veiled woman I have such easy access to products and clothing, much of which I have purchased since I’ve been gone, blessing me with an entirely new wardrobe of suit-skirts leggings and long-sleeve ankle-length dresses without sown on sparkles and sequins that covers almost every piece of female clothing in Cairo and that I cannot stand. Plain, modest, but breezy and beautiful; I don’t have to wear layers and layers of clothing anymore because everything that needs to be covered is and in a fashionable and not gaudy manner.  Armed with my months of practice and floor-length long sleeve slip dress I prepare for the café, with gifts for all and a determined mindset to kick some ass.    
   
Chapter 7:    
You pick me up at 7:00pm the streets have cleared since the morning and the evening breeze carries me like a falcon focused on the hunt. My focus is immediately flattened when I see you looking back at me from the driver’s seat of the car, you get out and come around to the passenger side and I out stretch my hand and you respond with both arms extended for a hug. I move into it and reach up to clasp your shoulders and you wrap your arms at my waist-typical American greeting! We get in the car and make our way to the café, and our friendly embrace notwithstanding I am still resolute in my ability to prevail and win.    
   
We park and make our way inside and from the street I can already hear the familiar voices of our friends. I plot sneakily in my mind of ways to trick them into thinking I didn’t come, I conspire with you and we agree that you will go in by yourself and say I couldn’t make it while I came in from the side entrance, I was almost unrecognizable from when I last saw the group considering the last time I had just given birth and was about 50 lbs heavier, rocking loose black clothing and flat shoes! Even though the wall through the café was glass even if they had been looking they would not have known it was me from behind. It worked out as planned and I walked through the double doors from the inside serving area to all of their surprise! Everyone stood up and rushed toward me as I was affectionately passed around with mixes of embraces and handshakes and after the dispersal of gifts and traditional ordering of shisha tea and brownies we all settled in for combat.    
   
At first it was conciliatory I could feel them trying to let me win, but after I clearly took advantage of their appeasing nature I started to tease and taunt them like before and the competitive edge overtook them.  The shisha came for the table and as I inhaled the sweet minty vapors into my chest I felt absorbed into the experience, transported back as if the world was not rotating and time had not passed by. I closed my eyes and was soothed by the Arabic, held and encompassed by the language itself and I became temporarily enamored with the entire scene striving arduously to brand this setting into my brain like a permanent fixture. It may not be the idea of bliss for most but that was my element.    
 
The cards dealt for the second game which was far more competitive than the first, clearly my instructor hadn’t lost his touch he was up by 40 points and of course in king position. You were still set in your rhythm of the game though, appearing nonchalant, smoking on your shisha more when you had a bad hand then when you had a good hand and when you were sure of victory you would drink your tea. Those tells hadn’t changed, I could tell you were enjoying yourself this group of guys probably hadn’t gotten together like this since I left.  The typical players were creating havoc in the game with no strategy and bizarre plays that were meant to make chaos, in that kind of a game he excelled using people’s emotions, frustration and inexperience to gain the upper hand.  I had plenty of practice at this point playing amateurs online and was simply enjoying the time spent with them all, my mind was on competition but my emotions were on savoring the moment.    
   
The café had changed since my last visit, where there used to be only a tarp separation between the tables and the street there were now two concrete cinder block half erect walls painted a light color, clearly they were trying to reach out to their more civilized clientele and the Maadi base. This had moved way beyond what I considered an a7wa and was definitely a café. There were still spelling mistakes on the menu, but there was a menu with more items than before, the girls bathroom had been revamped and almost all of the chairs had cushions.  Their clearly hadn’t changed their taste in music and the channel went back and forth between sha3by music with electronic beats, and the classics.    
   
The game progressed and I had several risks that I made and finally a beautiful hand came to me, clearly an ‘8’ call. I tried to contain myself but after looking at your own cards and hearing the other you figured out that I had a good hand. Your head tilted downward to glance at the point difference between us and you realized that I could pull ahead.  You strategized in your head knowing that you had the risk and when it came to your turn to call you glanced up at me and grinned, I knew you were going to go for it. “2 risk,” Whomever was going to lose this round it wasn’t going to be me, I had a solid 8. The round transpired and we both got our calls and because of the risk you got almost as many points as I did, your tactical mind is truly awe-inspiring; it makes me wonder if you were just as careful and premeditated when it came to other things in your life? Were you spontaneous or deliberate? Adventurous or cautious? I wondered what you were like in his 20s and early 30s, my age…We may never get to know each other that well but it never stops my curiosity.    
   
The second game, which I actually considered the first since people were really playing and competing against one another, was a close win by me.  In the moment there was a fleeting thought that you had given me the game, and you may have since it was the first one back. I took my phone out and texting you under the table, “You better not have let me win that one!” When you opened it you smiled and nudged my foot under the table in a teasing manner and then shrugged as if to say, “I’ll never tell.” My eyes closed and I inhaled slowly and deeply to calm my nerves, you took great pleasure in torturing me smiling and shifting in your seat. I texted back, “Well if you did throw one my way, don’t in this next game or I won’t be able to sit and play with the other group.” It was unclear if you were considering this or not your face was so unreadable at times, but I assumed you were going to give me a fair shot.    
   
The third game began and the weather cooled, I started on my second helping of shisha and once again got lost in the vapors and placed in a momentary tantric haze. For the first three rounds I played passively and then I glance at you over the top of my cards in round four and saw you smirking at me, incensed I spun out of my cloud of delight took a sip of my tea and adjusted in my chair, stood up and stretched out my torso and the lower part of my shoulder blades, followed by a sip of red bull and then refocused… 1am and we are volleying for the lead, some rounds you get it and others I take it, I definitely get the impression that you are testing me and that we were both playing on your level. You took the game in the end but I got the impression that you were impressed with my newly developed skills.    
   
The evening came to a close and as people left there were less people to play so we started a game of towla and I crushed you in the first game and started to tease you a bit, but it was nearing 2:30 in the morning and I could tell you were running out of energy. We stopped in the middle of the second game and headed out to the car talking about transportation logistics for the next day when we would be going to the New Cairo café. I could tell you were uneasy by the idea so I challenged you and asked why you chose it as your prize if you were nervous about taking me, calling you out on your concession and you stopped by the car looking at me. “I think we both know that was not going to be what I chose if I had won!” you said exasperated.    
   
A wave of euphoria and trepidation spilled over me and I was taken aback slightly guarded in how to respond, “So what was going to be your mysterious prize and why do you feel that you can’t tell me?” Both of us standing on either side of the car in the street at 2:30 in the morning feeling a mixture of fervent expectation hanging in the air between us.    
   
You inhaled and as if by force said, “I couldn’t think of anything I would want from you, if I had won, to be honest.” I was so deflated I’m fairly sure the color had drained from my face and I fell silent unable to find a response. You looked at me seeing the disappointment on my face and submissively unlocked the doors.    
   
I got in and as you were about to start the car I stopped your hand and said, “Even if that is the case, and you couldn’t think of anything to gain by competing against me I still want to go to this café and play. I enjoy competition, it brings out a person’s personality and humor in a world that is monotonous and bland. We get so used to our routines and patterns that we forget to enjoy our lives, sure we experience joy but to what extent. I can see you’re uncomfortable taking me to this a7wa for reasons that I don’t understand because I grew up with no gender limitations, but therein lies the excitement. Don’t you agree?”    
   
You scrutinized over my response and examined me intently and silently looking at one another for what seemed like several minutes. You leaned to the left considering my words and declared, “I said I would take you, and I want to take you, we’ll meet tomorrow same time downstairs from your apartment.” You smiled agreeably and turned the ignition, on the way home you kept glancing over at me and I avoided your gaze. I knew I was challenging your comfort zone and more than ever I comprehended your view point; I was a girl, a foreigner, your friend, and you were clearly uncomfortable about the possible problems that could come up because of those factors. Something that had never crossed my mind throughout my whole life took hold in my abdomen, a feeling that in the face of all the challenges and stereotypes that I have overcome and in some cases rendered extinct I never had before…anxiety. Such an alien feeling crept up from my lower limbs into my chest. I have been mostly fearless my whole life and even in situations where a normal person would feel caution I would feel excited, exhilarated at the prospect of challenge and danger. I still did not feel fearful I was just slightly anxious about challenging my friend in a way that made you apprehensive and nervous. It made me realize how much he didn’t know about me, my aggressive unconstrained side the darker side of me that is slightly vicious and merciless, I don’t blame you, you have only seen a polished version of me and even if you had become familiar with that part of me there is only so much you would be able to believe without seeing it for yourself.    
   
We pulled up to the apartment and I smiled wishing I could have a much longer conversation with you to ease your worry but you were tired and so I gave your hand an affectionate swipe and got out of the car.  You waited until I got inside the entryway and I glanced back your face with the same agreeable expression, then you drove away.    
   
Chapter 8:  
The evening arrived and I contemplated what to wear, something that had never before been a challenge for me because normally I just throw on whatever is comfortable. I could tell you were in good spirits when you called, you were teasing and had some new repartee.  When you arrived got out of the car and waited driver side for me to come down. I stopped at the car and you teasingly held the key in your hand above the roof as I waited for you to unlock the door, I smile and gaffed, “ha ha ha, are you gonna make me stand out here in the street all night” and faked a pouty face. With a tormenting grin you unlocked the door and I shifted into the car slightly giggling.    
   
Your car was impeccably clean and smelled like pine air freshener and sandalwood, you never really played music when you picked me up but I knew your musical tastes were classical Egyptian and Turkish, lots of 80s slow jams and Serenades-I always pegged you as a crooner fan until I found out you were a little bit of rock n roll. I laughed at my bizarre thoughts and you looked at me sideways before starting the engine I’m sure wondering about what whacky things I was thinking. Over the past 4 years of our friendship you have only really seen a few parts of my personality, you are aware of my passion for politics society and religion, and you know I am observant and can grasp concepts quickly (you are my teacher after all), you know I am courteous respectful and that I venerate your culture with the deepest love and awe, you know I enjoy fitness and constant seek self-improvement-all of these qualities most of my friends are aware of. As the inspiration of many poems and this story you are aware of my writing; that I have a wild fun flirty imagination, am abrasively passionate and sometimes dark and adventurous, but you have not witnessed this part of me in action. At times I wonder if you think this part of me is only on paper?    
   
Similarly, I know a great deal about you, you’re patient playful and modest (in every other way than playing cards when you are more than able to talk a good game). You are practical and protective, a loyal friend and despite what you may say you are a dreamer. You are full of idle desires for adventure. knowledgeable of the world, and tolerant of others, but you have an awareness of the realities in this world which limit your activities and choices.    
   
We pulled onto the highway and I smiled getting slightly more excited, you shook your head I think sensing that I was impatient as I shifted my legs from flat on the floor to crossing on both sides, and you said provocatively, “It’s just a game of cards Allison, in a small street café, we’re gonna have fun tonight but it’ll be different because you don’t know these guys and they don’t know you, sure I’ve told them that you’re coming but we have our routine… Samir is in his mid-40s and works in construction, and so does Ra’ef and Kareem. They’re not gonna have a lot to say they kind of just play cards and smoke shisha, I’m sure if I could have thought of something it would have been more exciting than this will be. You’re gonna have to play right away and so you won’t have time to observe them before hand, they’re not just gonna let you sit there and watch.”    
   
“It’ll be different,” I interjected, “Yeah I don’t know them but that’s part of the enjoyment, men like to talk when they play cards and even when they are not talking they are doing something they’ve never had a chance to do-play with a champ like me.” I smiled mouth closed and he let out a loud laugh... “ok, Allison, ok we’ll see.” you replied.    
   
We drive a bit further and then exit off of the highway onto a throughway, pass a couple of intersections, take a u-turn, and then turn right onto a dark unpaved road not well-lit. You eyed me keenly to see my reactions and I disappointed you because I got even more on edge. We slowed down to go over a few bumps in the road and then at the end of the street I saw a string of hanging lights and what looked like a tent extending out in front of an apartment building, chairs strewn haphazardly across the street, some backed up to the side of the building. Tables were pressed against the building wall and others joined the chairs in what I’m sure was meant to be a tenants parking space. You pulled around the back of the building and parked the car.    
   
You looked at me and glanced up and down, I smiled back at you and you shook your head again but couldn’t help but smile at my outlandish request, I’m sure no female that you have ever met would want to come to a place like this-but me I revel in it. It’s not about the crowd of men-I could get that anywhere-it’s the laughter, the genuine amusement, the unwritten boundaries and obvious prohibitions that were challenging and exciting. We got out of the car and I made my way towards the other side of the building when you grabbed my arm from behind me, turned me around and said, “Just be aware of and pay attention to me,” I put my free hand over yours, smiled and nodded. Then still leading me by the arm we stepped into the lit space.  
 
Chapter 9:  
There was no visible structure, and clearly my presence was already unsettling some of the patrons, you tensed up but we still made our way forward to a table on the right side of the café near the edge of the awning that stretched out in front of the building, there was a bulky man sitting smoking shisha and on his phone with his back toward us at the table already.  There was a car parked behind the table opposite the man and as we sat on plastic chairs with no arms side by side he introduced me. After the conciliatory greeting you both went into conversation with one another as I shifted my gaze from the make-shift kitchen to the obviously disturbed patrons, the air was filled with mixed feelings mostly because those who were gawking at us looked very confused and even curious rather than upset. You turned to me and asked what I wanted to order still a little flustered but assertive, I smiled and said my usual. A young boy in his teens came by the table with an empty tray and was so busy that he didn’t really notice me sitting at the table until after my friend placed the order and he looked at me as if I was going to speak-that was when my blurred form suddenly became visible to him and he smiled, I smiled back, and he turned and walked hurriedly away glancing over his shoulder.  
 
Two other men arrived and much like the first were older, wore heavy brown jackets and black loafers, each having a cigarette in their hands transferred it to their lips to shake my hand took a drag and put them back between their fingers.  There was an inaudible jest made between the men and they nodded and took their seats. The first man who arrived was Samir and Ra’ef and Kareem were the ones to arrive last. The two newcomers had some questions, atypical where are you from in the U.S., how long did you live in Egypt, the pedestrian compliment “oh your Arabic is so good…” All of which I smiled and answered curtly awaiting the shisha and tea.  You pulled out your own lay and the boy came back to the table with two hookahs and a metal lay covered in red twine fabric with a plastic mouth piece in a wrapper which he handed to me.  
 
When I first came to Cairo I frequented cafes much like this one, the only difference being they were downtown and surrounded by auto repair shops in Abdeen, on the edge of screaming traffic in Dokki and Tahrir, and most often in Mohandiseen surrounded by shoe stores and luggage peddlers.  This experience was not new to me, and the ease to which I assimilated took the table by surprise. You took out the cards, score sheet and pen, Samir kept busy on his phone and we started to play.  
 
After the first couple of rounds the guys started to become more relaxed and less cognizant that there was a female at the table.  They each fell into their normal rhythms and calls, Samir glance up only a couple of times to make a comment and as darkness fell the boy waiter brought out a small balady tv and a cord that must have been 15 feet long and turned on the black and white screen of some random football (soccer) match.  It was difficult to make out the teams because the screen was full of static nonetheless several patrons gathered toward the tv leaving their tables stranding and taking only their shisha pipes which trailed behind each of them like the cord on the tv. This thought amused me and I smiled, you noticed and when you saw me enjoying myself you relaxed a bit too.  
 
By round nine I had made headway into the game, Samir ran out of battery and was watching, glancing at the cards as we picked them up off the table, looking between mine and Ra’efs silently strategizing in his head. You were relaxed into the back of your chair, legs on either side, the mouth piece of your lay resting on the corner of your lower lip barely drawing in any smoke, focused on your cards resting limply in your right hand, tea tepid on the table in front of you. Once the cards were all dealt you bit your lay hard between your teeth and immediately glanced up at the faces of your friends shifting between the two of them and then you caught site of me. Your eyes widened slightly and as I moved the cards around in my hand I looked back at you.  You were sitting on my right so I shifted my head to face you but only slightly, I glimpsed up at you from the side and you scanned my whole face-you knew I had a great hand.  A hand that would take me into the lead from sub-king, a solid 8 or a risky 9. You looked back at your friends and then at me, you dealt so you would get the risk call, to your right Kareem announced dash call and shifted in his seat, I knew then that I could get a 9 if the calls stayed low. Samir uncrossed and re-crossed his legs behind me and stared expectantly at Ra’ef knowing that I had an amazing hand. Once the bidding had stopped I raised the call to 9 suns and the whole table shifted in their seats and looked at me. You lowered the pen to the score sheet and filled in the box near my name for the call.  Ra’ef called for 2 pursing his lips and then giving a side glance to Kareem as if to say “are you sure no tricks?” Samir edged closer behind me and you also shifted your chair closer to me, I smiled because the two of you simultaneously moved closer to me. You had the risk and you took it, under! Ra’ef looked at Kareem with pressed lips entreating his call choice, then almost at the same time they both looked at you, eyebrows raised and then Samir who nodded with pressed lips and his eyes closed eyebrows retreating to the top of his head.  
 
You knew the cards of everyone at the table, additionally you had already calculated what the possible score outcomes would be in each scenario. The amount of integers flashed behind your gaze so much that you looked like your head was about to pop off. The boy passed behind me and for the first time I spoke to him and order a cup of black coffee he was surprised and for just a second glanced at the others at the table all of whom were contemplating their cards and what was about to go down and didn’t even glance up.  He turned back to me nodded, smiled, and walked away returning seconds later with a nescafe and only then did the others at the table notice that I had ordered a drink. Kareem looked confused like the kid just randomly brought me coffee and he ordered another drink as well and then looked back at his cards and scratched his head.  
 
I was treasuring this moment, I began aggressive taking 3 tricks then let go of 2 took another 1 and let go of 1, Kareem had already lost and came out aggressively I let him have the first, you the second and then I layed my cards onto the table to take the rest! Kareem slammed down his cards as I de-throned him from king, put his hands in his pockets and leaned his plastic chair onto the back two wobbly legs pulsating back and forth and looking skyward.  You grabbed my right thigh under the table, squeezed it twice and smiled. The game went by from there uneventfully the table was still euphoric with my upset and I won the first game of the night.
 
Chapter 10:
You sat out for the second game despite me insisting that you play and I sit out, but you asserted even further and almost wrestled the odd chair from my hands.  You sat slightly behind me to my left and looking down at your phone you found it was out of battery and gave it to the boy to charge, then said to me “Eh, this is more interesting anyway!” I half smiled half smirked and scooched toward the table for the next game. You ordered another shisha, a soda, and by that time the cards had been dealt and I was shifting the around in my hands. You leaned forward so that your face was right at my shoulder and I leaned back towards you so that you could see the cards easily.  I shifted them over to my left hand and after they were sorted I knew what I was going to call so I folded them back up and glanced left towards you, your face now directly next to mine.  You were resting your head on your hands, mouth covered with your fingers and raised your right eyebrow at me smiling beneath your knuckles.  
 
The table began bidding and our order arrived I shifted my shisha pipe to the right side behind my chair and you did the same but to your left so that the coals wouldn’t accidentally catch us on fire. You leaned back exuding confidence and inhaled your new round of mint and I made my call of one.  The game progressed and after the first few rounds the scores remained similar to the game before, Kareem took the lead right away followed by Samir, me and then Ra’ef. Samir reminded me of you in the way that he played, he was also very quiet and tended to switch tells between his cigarette and drink.  Between the five of us at the table there must have been at least one whole pack of cigarettes smoked by this point not to mention at least 6 rounds of shisha.  
 
I didn’t make my move until round 7 when I got a 6 call and Samir lost big points going against me. Kareem it seemed was out for retaliation because whenever I would make a call he would try to make me lose; so when I was successful at getting the 6 he started to look agitated.  I noticed that he was a very emotional guy, very cerebral obviously good at the game but his testosterone got in the way of him making high percentages of wins. He was ‘quick-at-the-hip’ and came out of the gate too aggressively.  Confident but not certain, and clearly obscured by ego.  
 
Ra’ef was very calm and had a resting expression of confusion, eyebrows always either in v shape in the middle of his forehead or raised into his brow-line with disbelief. He sighed a lot and generally appeared exasperated and weighed down by life.  He slouched in his chair and his pot belly seamlessly moved inward making his chest appear concave. Clearly these men were well fed but almost all of them had a defeated sensibility.  
 
After getting the 6 you leaned in once more, moving your shisha lay between your legs so that you could lean your elbows onto your knees unobscured by the tubing. Both your hands rested forward rather than holding up your chin. I picked up my hand for round 8 and once again leaned back so that you could see but Ra’ef couldn’t. You adjusted as I sorted through the cards and with your forefinger pointed at the diamonds and counted 5 face cards across the different suits and one high number card. A second 6? Must be my lucky night. The bidding once again went around and once I hit 6 Kareem, determined to not let me win again called for something he couldn’t possibly have. Thwarted by pride you smirked at me from the right side moved in closer to my ear and I leaned towards you. You cupped your hand in front of your mouth and whispered “go for 7, he doesn’t got it and you are short-suited in spades.” I made the call “7-diamonds” and he slouched into his chair waving his hand dismissively.  
 
The calls went around and the round became over 1. I pinched a card in my hand with my thumb and forefinger and you shook your finger to signal no, leaned forward with your head almost resting on my shoulder and pointed out with your fingers the first three that you would start with and then flicked a five of hearts as if to signal to throw that one away after I took the third trick. You sat up looked downward at me and smiled. I agreed with your suggestion and after the throw off I took it from there.  After winning the 7 round you put your hand on my back beneath my shoulder blades and patted it in a circular pattern stretched your arms above your head and then leaned in again as Ra’ef shuffled and whispered, “that’s exactly how I would have played it, good job… you still won’t take me in the next game though.” He smiled and I glared at him over my left shoulder thinking to myself, “such feistiness!” The game went south in the double round as Kareem vied for his spot back and over-called, if Samir hadn’t taken his two tricks everyone would have lost. Instead Samir became only winner on a double round with risk and became king. I was sub-king and after taking too many risks to satisfy his arrogance Kareem found himself dead last.  
 
The chairs shifted once more and Kareem left the game and the café after saying his farewells, he asked if I was going to come again to which I affirmed that I would be back the day two nights later and he shook my hand, tilted his chin to his chest and said “I’ll have to bring my ‘A’ game then.” He shook my hand twice and I turned back to the table. Still standing I stretched slightly shifting my body weight from one leg to the other, rotating my upper body and shoulders, and then brought my arms above my head and leaned back into the stretch. You reached over and tapped in my hip and shook your head eyeing a table two lengths back from which each of the four men sitting there were staring at me ravenously. I immediately abided and sat back down in the plastic chair, ordered another tea and hung up my shisha lay in exchange for one of your cigarettes.  
 
The taste was beautifully bitter and my mouth reacted to the inhale of smoke positively, both cheeks moistening with saliva as if I just took a bite of juicy steak.  I switched my drink order to a lemonade, closed my eyes inhaled once again and leaned my head back letting the fumes permeate in my lung cavity before exhaling.  The light-headed, dazed, vertiginous sensation threw me off balance when I brought my head back to stasis and that temporary numbness began to inch its way down my limbs. The glorious menthol taste was complimented perfectly with the chalky sour Egyptian lemonade, I could taste the remnants of the rind in the cloudy yellow drink and insatiably swallowed each sip after letting it sit in my mouth and sway to the now moving room.  I hadn’t had a kick of tobacco like that in years, and even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to smoke when I went back to the States in this moment in this place there were no restrictions and I reveled in it.  
 
You could tell from my silence and swaying that I was having an out-of-body experience and when I attempting to lock eyes with you, you noticed that mine were oscillating in my skull and you smiled at me sharing in that blissful feeling that you know all too well.  You leaned over and whispered, “Having fun?” and I nodded with my whole body shifting up and back as if in a rocking chair. Satisfied that I had re-focused you dealt the first round of the last game, we gathered our cards up in tandem and I organized them by suit.  
 
The first few rounds I took the lead, simply by happenstance which does not bode well in my opinion… very rarely does the person who begins with the lead end with it. Like most things in life the kingship cannot be sustained and no amount of good hands can provide one with the stamina to maintain dominion.  This predictably dissipated as you took the lead cunningly in round six with a dash call and I failed to get my risk, and until the colors in round 12 you kept the lead until Samir crept from behind in surprise upset with an 8 call. When we repeated that suit at the end you retaliated with a four risk and took the game. The night ended with three different winners and on the whole a satisfying experience.  
 
You gathered the cards and sheets, it was almost midnight and after walking out from underneath the awning towards the car I looked up and noticed a full moon lighting up the desert behind the building.  We really were in the middle of nowhere out here, beyond the building was just an infinite expanse of desert, and after realizing that I had paused and lagged behind you turned and came back to where I was standing. You took my hand to lead me to the car and I pulled you back, confused you stood looking at me and I smiled and playfully tilted my head to the side and exclaimed, “I told you it’d be fun, didn’t I? Didn’t I?” and skipped playfully towards the car, you stood staring at me like I was such a strange creature, smiled, and trekked after me in the slippery desert sand feeling elated and far less concerned. In fact, all thoughts temporarily disappeared as you examined your 30-year-old female friend uninhibitedly skipping towards your car in the moonlight with unencumbered unrestricted glee.  
 
I stood by the car waiting for you to follow and unlock the door with a sly grin on my face as if to substantiate a point-you trudged through the sand towards me and just as playfully as I you stood right in front of me, looked down like a strict teacher to his pupil tapped me on the shoulder and said “Tag your, it!” Shocked that you could be so outgoing and spirited it took me a second to chase after you.  We weaved in and out of the parked cars and then two men emerged from around the corner and we stopped in our tracks like two kids caught misbehaving and hastily walked towards your car smiling and panting for breath.  Covered in sand at this point I had to shake my shoes off before getting in your nice clean car, so I sat with both feet out the passenger side trying to shake the sand out of my shoe while you started the car caught your breath and waited smiling at my backside.  
 
Once finished I swung both feet in, sand-free, shut the door, and sighed with gratification. We finally had a pure friend moment-everything up until this point had been restricted by cultural nuances, regulated by prescribed social practices and limited by what we think is proper behavior for people our age. We got to let down our barriers just for a moment and be spontaneous… got that moment you weren’t in your 40s I wasn’t in my 30s, you weren’t Arab and I wasn’t American, you weren’t a guy and I wasn’t a girl-that’s what made it a pure moment- I was elated! I asked you if you had any of your 80s music on your phone to which you replied, “of course,” and so I turned on the sound system and you scrolled through your list found a few songs to cruise to and pulled out of the sand lot to go back to Maadi and I sang with the window down.  
 
When you dropped me off that night we both realized that we were able to experience a different side of one another that evening and you drove home inadvertently smiling and I walked up the stairs unmistakably amused anticipating the next card game thinking the next time was already too far away!