Bezuna Bezka | Creative Dating Ideas | Read Romance Books Online

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We are sitting on a bench at the back of some TV production company. Ali opens up his note book. The one in which he carried all the little love letters, pink feathers and other cute rubbish I gave him over time. Did he bring it on purpose, hoping it will soften me up? I think so because he is looking at my reaction to when I see it. He moves very slowly, as if looking for something but I can see the letter sticking out of the note book. Why doesn’t he just take it out? What is this all about?

“Everything is here as it was. I didn’t throw anything out” he says.

By what looks to me like a carefully planned accident a little piece of paper on which sometime ago I wrote ‘I love you my habibi’ falls out on the ground. Ali picks it up, smiles at me sad and puts it back into the notebook. Then he takes out the five pages of the letter he wrote. I take my little green notebook out of my bag. He looks at me surprised.

“I will take notes from what you say and point out to you where you are wrong” I explain.

“If you wish”, he says and then goes silent and just looks at the page, takes deep breath and begins reading: ‘I understand that everything that happened since the break up begun made you feel like I don’t care about you and your feelings…” he pauses and then continues: “firstly I would like you to know that … I love you…” he stops and starts looking through the rest of the pages, puts his head down, then again he looks at the pages and tries to continue, “here I wrote…” his voice is shaking and breaking down, he can’t speak but his lips move. He wants to go on but the words get stuck in his throat, hands start shaking and big tears go down his cheeks and drop on the pages in front of him. He shuts the notebook “I can’t do it. I just can’t. Right now as I just looked at it I see that on the very first page I wrote ‘I love you’ 7 times! It’s pointless.’

As bitter and hateful towards Ali as I am, it is hard for me to look at him as he seems to be genuinely suffering. I feel an urge to hold him, comfort him and I just can’t control it. I shut my green notebook down and take him by the hand. He squeezes it tight and looks at me. We stand up and hold each other. Minutes are passing and we are still holding. I feel his tears on my cheek. I loose any sense of time. I feel his lips and tongue on my neck, very gentle and slowly, just the way I like it, irresistible. We must have been standing like this for over an hour as the sun already went down.

“I am the same Ali, the one you used to love. I don’t want you to think of me badly. Please, just don’t think about me badly Bezuna. Please.”

“Too late” I think to myself and only smile at him “Will you read what you wrote there or should I read it by myself?” I ask.

“Forget about it. We won’t read it al all” he says and I don’t insist because it’s too late to fix or change anything now. It all doesn’t matter to me anymore anyway.

“I’m hungry” I say spontaneously.

“Really? Me too, I haven’t eaten all day!” we laugh “why don’t we go to our Indian on K Rd, what do you think?”

I guess we may as well enjoy our last time together. We start walking towards his car and he instinctively grabs my hand.

“Oops, sorry Bezuna…’ we laugh but he doesn’t let go of my hand. It’s like before, as if nothing changed between us. Here and now I decide to enjoy the moment, not think, not analyse. I also remember not to be deceived by this illusion of ‘togetherness’, I don’t have any hopes. Plus I’m used to regular and frequent grinding and not getting any for the last four weeks is more than I can and should ever take. Breaking this sexual fasting now sounds like a very good idea! And no, I’m not teasing or trying to break him. I don’t need to do anything. I guess the forbidden fruit tastes better and I’m the forbidden fruit.

Should I maybe try to stop him? Tell him we shouldn’t do it because his Allah will be angry at him? Screw it, literally and metaphorically! His religion is his problem, it’s his responsibility, not mine!

We get into his car and I land on top of him and he is squeezing my whole body pressed against his, lifts my pink skirt up and his hands are everywhere. He is feverous, his eyes are maniacal. I am also very turned on, quite knocked out by the sudden flow of hormones.

“I want to lick you. All of you, feel you, be inside of you. I want you so much Bezuna!”

The sun is already down but it is still quite bright and there are people walking around where we are parked, but Ali seems unaware of the outside world!

“Let’s have something to eat first” I say and Ali regains control. When I sit in the passenger’s seat I feel that my skirt is wet.

“What happened?” I ask,

“I got too turned on.” Fortunately you can’t tell as it doesn’t show on the skirt.

Now Ali says a little prayer that breaks his Fast for today and takes a sip of water. Now he can because officially the sun is down. He just ejaculated but only now he can drink water. I find it rather sad and amusing at the same time.

We hold hands as he drives, just like before - no it’s different: his grip is much tighter than ever before, as if he was afraid that I will go away.

Finally we get to our K Rd Indian. I am so hungry I get my typical and very bad stomach ache. When we are at the restaurant Ali massages me, kisses, and holds me. He gets angry with the waiter that my tea is not hot enough and I have to calm him down so that he doesn’t kill the restaurant staff and owner. I sit like a pregnant woman with my belly stuck out and he whispers I loves yous into my ear and says he is addicted to me etc. I only smile.
After all I’m not going to tell the guy who broke up with me that I love him too! That would be humiliating!

I can eat only very little because of the pain but fortunately it is slowly going away.

After the food we drive to his office still holding hands and looking deeply into each other’s eyes. It’s all nice, sad, pathetic and very strange.

We have sex. We remember all the little things we used to share, we tease each other in half Arabic, half Czech.

We have sex again. I return the tape with Arabic songs he gave me a while ago, he wants me to keep them but I don’t want to. We sing some of the tunes together. As always he laughs at my Arabic pronunciation and made up words. He says he dreamed about me two days ago.

We have sex again. He says that he wants to write down all the words in Czech that I taught him, so that he doesn’t ever forget.
“I explain to myself that it hurts so much because it’s the hardest decision I have ever had to make in my life. That’s why it’s so painful. I want to believe what I did was right but time will only show…” he says.

“You know Ali, they say that we are all one so it all doesn’t really matter because when we die we will all be there somewhere floating together. There will be no problems, no cultural or religious differences” I say it to cheer him up.

“I really hope so Bezuna, I hope I will see you there. I really do” as he says it he looks me in the eyes and I can tell he means it.

I’m lying on his chest playing with his hair, as I used to. He starts falling asleep, just as he used to. He says that it is because I’m with him and he feels at peace. He hasn’t felt this way for the many weeks now.

It’s already after 2am so I ask him to take me back to my car.

“Have you already found someone Bezuna?” he really surprises me with this question so I hesitate. Is Fadi my boyfriend? Not really, not yet anyway.

“No, I’m not with anyone”.

“Me too” he informs me although I didn’t ask.

I’m getting ready to leave and he tries to explain something about the letter he wrote but didn’t read. He is holding my hand very tight. He asks me to stay in touch and he looks so terribly, terribly sad! He asks me to stay longer, to sit back down, not to take myself away from him. He doesn’t let go of my hand, making it impossible for me to leave, asks questions to delay the moment of the final ‘good bye’.

“Ali, we are not together, I have to get out of this car sooner or later”. He looks totally lost and confused but finally he lets go of my hand and I leave the car. I walk straight. “Don’t look back, don’t look back Bezuna!” I keep thinking to my self “just don’t look back”. I open the door to my car and feel he is looking at me. I sit down, put the key in. “just don’t look into the mirror, don’t look!”