After Dafne and I ate our sandwiches, all three of us fell asleep. It was lunchtime by the time I woke up again. An air stewardess was standing by our row of seats, offering us trays of food.
I woke my sisters and placed our tables down in front of us. We watched a movie as we ate, and after lunch, Dafne and I played a game of hangman while Lalia continued watching the screen. Once the movie had finished, Lalia insisted on playing a game of snap—my mother had thoughtfully packed the cards in her bag. It was one of her favorite games, and she won almost all the time.
We dozed off again at some point and, on waking up the next time, it was to the news that we were approaching Cairo International Airport. I felt the plane beginning to descend. I looked over at Dafne. She was staring out the window, her knuckles pale as she gripped her seat. Surprisingly, she had coped well on this journey. Normally she vomited at least once.
Once the plane had touched down and taxied to a stop, we all stood up and stretched our legs. Then I bundled our carry on luggage out of the locker overhead. I felt excited as we moved toward the front of the plane. It wouldn’t be long now until we would be reunited with our grandfather.
As we stepped out of the plane, the hot Egyptian air engulfed us. I was already sweating. We hurried through the rest of the airport and, after reclaiming our baggage, we finally reached the arrivals area. We looked around for our grandfather. Lalia was the one who spotted him first.
“Grandpa!”
He was a short man with white hair and a beard that covered half his face. He wore a light cotton suit, and his tan face split into a smile as he spotted us.
“My girls!”
We rushed into his arms and he cuddled all three of us at once. The smell of his cologne filled my nostrils.
“How was the flight?” he asked, his Lebanese accent thick as ever.
“It went smoothly,” I said.
A tall ebony-skinned man arrived next to him. “Meet Fariss,” my grandfather said. “My new driver.”
Fariss smiled and shook hands with each of us. He bent down and picked up my sisters’ luggage. When he motioned to carry mine too, I held up a hand and said, “No, it’s fine. I can manage. Thanks.”
We made our way toward my grandfather’s shiny black car in the parking lot. My sisters and I sat in the back while our grandfather sat in the passenger seat. After Fariss had packed all the luggage into the back, he started up the engine and drove us away.
I reached for a paper napkin stuffed into the back of one of the seats and wiped my forehead.
“Wow, it’s hot,” I said.
“Welcome to Cairo.” My grandfather chuckled.
“So what’s the surprise, Grandpa?” Dafne asked.
He swiveled in his seat to look back at us, a gleam in his eyes. “Well, it didn’t look like it was going to coincide with your visit at first, but plans changed… We’ve been invited to an exciting dig. It’s in the ruins of an ancient temple and it’s happening in the desert not too far from home.”
“Oh, my,” Dafne gasped.
“Normally they wouldn’t allow children to attend such things, but the organizer is a friend of mine and he agreed to make an exception. So… what do you say?”
“Yes!” Dafne squealed.
Lalia still looked too overwhelmed by the change of scenery and temperature to register what my grandfather was saying. She was staring out of the window. I was sure that he would find a way to make the dig interesting even for a six-year-old.
The dig certainly sounded exciting to me. Although I wasn’t quite as much of a nerd as Dafne when it came to Egyptian history, I was always interested in my grandfather’s work.
“How long will the dig last?” I asked.
“Well, it’s started already. But I think we will most likely see something interesting by the day after tomorrow. I suggest we leave early, stay the whole day and night and return the next day before lunchtime.”
“Stay the night? In the desert?” Dafne looked all the more excited by the prospect.
“Yes. They’ve set up camp there.”
“Wow,” Dafne said.
“Bashira would come with us, too,” my grandfather added.
“How is Bashira?” I asked. My grandmother had died five years ago, and now my grandfather lived alone except for his longtime housekeeper, Bashira.
“Her joints are getting a bit stiff, but otherwise she’s in good spirits. She’s very much looking forward to seeing you three again.” He paused, straining his neck to look me in the eye. “Are you really going to go back after just one week? I’m still sore about it.”
“Dafne and Lalia could stay longer… then perhaps Bashira could fly back with them to New York?”
My grandfather turned his attention to my two sisters. “And would you two like to do that? Stay here without River?”
Dafne nodded her head furiously. “Can I stay a whole month?”
“Of course! And what about you, Lalia?”
She tore her eyes away from the window. “Huh?”
“Grandpa’s asking if you want to stay here longer with Dafne,” I said. “I’ll be returning home after a week.”
She paused, looking from me to our grandfather. “Ummm, I’ll stay for just… four more days if River isn’t gonna be there.”
“Just four more days?” my grandfather said, chuckling. “I like how precise you are. Okay, I’ll change the tickets when we get home.”
After half an hour, we pulled up in the dusty street outside my grandfather’s home. It was a five-bedroom house—not including Bashira’s quarters, which were round the back—and beautifully constructed. Its white exterior and sleek stone entryway made it seem like a miniature palace.
We entered through the heavy door and looked around at the entrance hall. The walls were covered with parchment containing hieroglyphics, mounted in gold frames. Ancient relics from his various excursions covered the long mantelpiece. We approached the wide staircase in the center of the room and my grandfather led us up.
“So, where would you like to sleep? You have four bedrooms up here to choose from.”
Dafne chose the room with the best view of the swimming pool in the back garden. Lalia just looked up at me. “Where you gonna sleep, River?” she asked.
“Umm…” I looked around the three remaining rooms and chose the one closest to Dafne’s, also with the view of the backyard and the pool. “Let’s sleep in this one.”
“Well, if you want to make yourselves comfortable… Are you hungry or sleepy?” my grandfather asked.
Since we had slept on the plane, none of us were tired. We’d also eaten quite a lot. After we greeted Bashira, a kind Egyptian woman in her late fifties, she served us iced watermelon juice and fresh dates. Then we spent time with my grandfather in his library.
Although his living room was comfortable, his library also contained a large sofa, and it was by far the most interesting room in the house. Its walls were covered with ceiling-high bookcases filled with hundreds of books about Egypt. Dafne could sit in here for hours and hours flying through pages. I was sure that she would become an Egyptologist when she grew up. My grandfather was certainly hoping for it.
We retired to bed once our eyelids started drooping. Lalia and I awoke the next morning to a delicious smell wafting into our bedroom. We padded into the ensuite bathroom, brushed our teeth and took showers. We both changed into our swimsuits and pulled on light cotton dresses from the cupboard that Bashira had bought especially for us. Then we headed downstairs to find Bashira in the midst of cooking a traditional Egyptian breakfast. We helped her finish preparing the meal and then set up the breakfast table outside in the backyard. Dafne and my grandfather joined us within half an hour. After filling our bellies, we lounged around by the pool. I could hardly remember the last time I’d been swimming. I supposed it was the last time I’d visited here.
“For dinner, I have a suggestion,” my grandfather said, looking down at us in the pool as he sat in a dec
k chair. “My friend, Yusuf, the organizer of the dig, has invited us to a lovely Lebanese restaurant about twenty minutes away. I might have taken you all there before, actually, the last time you came with your mother and Jamil… They also serve a certain sweet pastry that some people around here are fond of…”
I laughed as Lalia stopped swimming and perked up. “Baklava?” she asked, wide-eyed.
“Yes.” My grandfather grinned. “Yusuf has a son around your age, River—Hassan is his name.”
“Sounds fun,” I said, swimming to the edge of the pool and climbing out. I grabbed my towel and sat down in a chair, watching my sisters as they continued splashing in the water.
We spent the rest of the day in the backyard with my grandfather. Dafne and Lalia stopped swimming only for a light lunch, and soon enough, it was time to get ready for dinner.
I headed with Lalia back to our bedroom. We rummaged through the array of beautiful clothes Bashira had bought for us. Lalia picked out a light pink cotton dress. I helped her change into it, then tied her hair back in a French braid.
“I’m real pretty,” Lalia said, checking herself out in the mirror and swinging her long braid from side to side.
“You are,” I said, smiling. And oh so modest, too.
“Why don’t you wear that purple one?” she asked, pointing to a long flowing gown.
I eyed it. “Meh. Purple isn’t really my color.” I opted for a dark blue dress instead. It was long but sleeveless, and had a cooling feel to it. I brushed out my hair and was about to tie it up in a bun when Lalia reached for my hand. “It looks nice down.”
I paused, looking at myself in the mirror. She was right that it looked better down. It was just so long that it got in the way—I was in the habit of tying it up all the time. Still, this was a special occasion, so I took my little sister’s suggestion.
Once Lalia and I were ready, we left the bedroom and went downstairs. My grandfather and Dafne were ready and waiting for us. Dafne had chosen a pretty green gown that complemented her purple glasses.
“Well?” my grandfather said. “Are we ready to leave, princesses?”
“Yep,” I replied.
We left the house and walked down the steps toward the car. Fariss was already waiting by it. He opened the door to the back seats and my sisters and I climbed inside, while my grandfather sat in the front. The restaurant wasn’t far away, as my grandfather had said. Soon we were pulling up outside a familiar building. Its exposed brick exterior had an ethnic charm and deep blue fabric draped down from pillars that lined the restaurant’s terrace. This restaurant was right on the edge of town and it had a stunning view of the desert—indeed, the sand started just twenty feet from the entrance.
“Are you hungry, Fariss? You should join us,” my father said.
“I have eaten already,” he replied. “But thank you for the invitation.”
“Then you don’t need to wait around here if you’ve other things to do. We’ll be here at least a couple of hours. Why don’t you aim to return by nine-thirty?”
“Yes, sir.”
We left Fariss with the car and walked into the restaurant. It was adorned with beautiful bamboo furniture and cozy lanterns dangled from the ceiling. It was more crowded than I’d expected. We walked up to the woman standing behind the welcome desk.
“Do you have a reservation?” she asked.
“Yes. My name is Samir Haik, and my two friends…” His voice trailed off as his eyes fixed on two men sitting in the far corner of the room—at one of the tables with the best views of the desert. “I see they’ve arrived already.”
“Enjoy your evening,” the woman said.
We headed toward the table and the father and son stood up when they spotted us. Yusuf had graying black hair, a thick mustache and tan skin. He positively towered over my short grandfather. Hassan looked like a younger version of his father. He also had a mustache, albeit much less salubrious than Yusuf’s.
“Samir!” Yusuf said, grinning. He grabbed my grandfather’s hand and pulled him in for a hug. Then he turned to the rest of us. “And who are these angels?”
“Meet Lalia, Dafne, and River,” my grandfather said, gesturing to each of us.
We shook hands with him, then Hassan, who smiled more broadly as he met my eye.
“A pleasure to meet you,” he said, his Middle Eastern accent thick.
“And you too,” I said politely.
I wasn’t sure whether it was just my imagination, but my grandfather and Yusuf seemed to deliberately engineer the seating so that I was next to Hassan.
After we’d scanned the menus and chosen what we wanted, the waitress came to take orders. For the first half of the meal, we listened to my grandfather and Yusuf speaking enthusiastically about the dig—how long they had been planning for it and trying to get permission, how they had finally succeeded and how it had been going so far. Apparently they had already discovered some artifacts of interest.
It was only after about forty-five minutes that Hassan spoke to me again.
“My father tells me you are from New York?” he asked, glancing at me curiously.
I swallowed my mouthful of salad. “Yes,” I said. “Manhattan.”
“I have visited there once with my parents. I found it a nice place.”
“Yes, parts of it are nice,” I replied.
“How long are you staying here in Cairo?” he asked.
“Just a week this time.”
“Oh, I see…” He looked across the table at my two sisters. “You are not here with your parents?”
“No.” The thought of my father in a Texas jail and my mother stuck in our apartment with my autistic brother suddenly made the food in my mouth tasteless. I worried about how my mother was even going to sort out basic things like groceries.
“Do you live in Cairo full-time?” I asked Hassan, eager to change the subject.
“Yes.”
“Where are you from originally?”
“Born and raised in Cairo,” he replied proudly. “Were you born in the United States?”
“Yes. Though my mother was born in Egypt.”
Our conversation trailed off and we went back to listening to my grandfather and Yusuf’s discussion.
Lalia and Dafne were busy eating. They’d worked up a good appetite from all the swimming they’d done earlier. I caught myself wondering whether Lalia would even have room for any dessert, then reminded myself that she always had room for dessert.
Once we’d finished, the waitress took away our dinner plates and we ordered dessert. Lalia requested the obvious, while the rest of us opted for ice cream. Hassan chose the same flavor as me—mango.
Once we’d finished, Yusuf insisted on paying the check. Then we all retreated to the sitting area outside on the veranda and admired the view of the desert. Lalia and Dafne both looked drowsy by now as they slumped back in a sofa. I stretched out my legs next to them, yawning and looking up at the starry night sky and then straight ahead at the endless mass of dunes. A cool breeze wafted over us.
As my grandfather and Yusuf immersed themselves in conversation once again, Hassan gestured with his head toward the dunes. “Shall we take a short walk?” he asked.
I felt so full, I wasn’t really in the mood for a walk, but the desert did look beautiful in the moonlight.
“Grandpa,” I said, standing up and interrupting his conversation. “Hassan and I are going to go for a short walk. We won’t go far.”
“Okay,” he said. “But be careful.”
Neither Lalia nor Dafne made any move to come with us. They were too full. So Hassan and I left the sitting area together and descended the veranda steps. Grains of sand filled my shoes as soon as we reached the bottom. We walked slowly forward. Now that we were away from the shelter of the veranda, the breeze was stronger.
“Watch out for snakes,” Hassan said suddenly.
I jolted back. “Snakes?”
“Yes. Cobras. They tend to come out at ni
ght.” He reached for my hand and pulled me closer to him.
Oh. Nice move. I rolled my eyes.
We remained close to the streetlights that bordered the desert as we ventured further along the sand.
“Have you gone with your father on a lot of digs?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Will you be there tomorrow also?”
“Oh, certainly,” he said, smiling.
“I’ve never stayed the night in a desert before. Do you have any advice about what I should pack?”
He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Not really. The camp is well-stocked. Plenty of water and even toilet accessories. You’ll find packets of toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap, shampoo… pretty much everything a man or woman could need. The tents are also very comfortable—and spacious. The toilets are a little walk away, however—the only real inconvenient thing about the experience.”
“I see.”
Hassan averted his eyes away from me again, and stopped in his tracks.
“You see something over there?” he said, squinting as he stared into the distance.
I followed his gaze. I walked closer, straining to see. If my eyes weren’t mistaken, they were tanks. And there was a crowd of people surrounding them.
“They’re tanks, aren’t they?” he said.
“Looks like it,” I replied. “I guess they’re from the army?”
“I guess so. They just seem to be standing around and talking. Shall we move closer and see?”
I looked back toward the restaurant, now quite far behind us, and then back at the tanks. They weren’t all that much further. I shrugged. “Okay.”
As we moved closer, I heard voices more clearly. I’d been expecting to hear Arabic, but to my surprise, it sounded like the crowd of men were American. Before we were close enough to make sense of what they were saying, two of the men left the crowd and approached us. They wore dark beige uniforms and thick belts around their waists held an array of odd objects. Each carried a boxlike device with a red flashing light, a sharp spear-like weapon carved from wood and a silver gun with an odd bulbous barrel.