By Dana Husam Abdullah
September 23, 2015
Nadia woke up with a startle. Her arms twitched and she felt chills, even though the temperature inside the hotel was steadily warm. She went to the bathroom and splashed her face with lukewarm water.
Her husband, now propped up on his elbows, stared at her when she went back to the bedroom.
“Jet lag?” He asked.
She shook her head. “Thinking too much. Can’t sleep properly.”
She climbed back into bed and brushed his arm away when he tried to comfort her. “I wonder if I’m making a mistake.”
Her husband nodded. “Don’t worry; tomorrow you’ll do a fantastic job with the presentation. Everyone will be impressed. Just stop thinking, trust everything will be okay and go back to bed.” Her turned around and put his head back on the pillow.
Nadia reached for her purse. She pulled out the passport-size photos of her babies, gazed at them, and then pressed them to her chest.
September 24, 2015
Punchy growled and whined. She fed and shushed him, petting his back.
“Oh come on, where on Earth are you?” she said, glaring at C5. It was two in the afternoon. Other kids in swimsuits had already been out, played with the sprinklers, and gone back inside. But there was no sign of Ola-what’s-her-face and Nadia’s children. Sawsan wondered how Nadia was okay with those children spending the weekend entirely indoors. Did she ever take them to the zoo, Chuck E Cheese, the Dolphinarium or to the cinema?
Nadia. She will never suspect me of being the one to kidnap Sara. Sawsan reflected on her own actions and behavior. After all, whenever she was around her children, Sawsan almost completely ignored them. She also yawned and looked at her watch often whenever Nadia had talked about them. A few months ago, Sawsan stopped speaking to her former friend entirely, so that the latter would start to forget about her.
Despite this plotting, Sawsan saw the book she picked up shake. If I get caught, I will go to jail. Locked up, depressed, suicidal, disgraced in society. Hell. She breathed deeply, and repeated this action a couple of more times until she consciously annihilated the negative thoughts.
“Keep your eyes on the prize.” This cliché was her High School basketball coach’s motto.
I’ll keep my mind on Sara. I must not give up now. She needs me as much as I need her.
to be continued…
“Because of Sara” is a short story that will be published in parts. To find out what happens next read part 4 coming soon.
Click here for Because of Sara part 1 http://en.arabwomanmag.com/because-of-sara-part-1/
Click here for Because of Sara part 2 http://en.arabwomanmag.com/because-of-sara-part-2/
Click here for Because of Sara part 3 http://en.arabwomanmag.com/because-of-sara-part-3/
Click here for Because of Sara part 4 http://en.arabwomanmag.com/because-of-sara-part-4/
To contact Dana Husam Abdallah: firstname.lastname@example.org