Page 37 of Under the Arabian Sky

Excitedly, nervously, uncertainly, I followed.

He turned his back to me and turned off the light.

In the darkness he said, “Goodnight, Arthur.”

In the darkness I said, “Goodnight, Tariq.”

There I lay quietly in the bed, trying to calm my breaths, trying not to move too much so as not to disturb him, trying not to give him any reason to get up and leave.

There I lay, sensing him so close, yearning to reach out and touch him… yet far too frightened to do so.

I thought about how long it had been since I’d shared a bed with Andrew.

I thought about how different this Omani man was from my past love… and yet, in his humour and gentleness and fearfulness, he had more akin with Andrew than I first realised.

Again, I wanted to ask him about that soft subtle kiss on my neck earlier.

I wanted to know his secrets, and I wanted to tell him mine.

I opened my mouth to speak when suddenly—

“Zzzzzzzzzzzz…”

Tariq was apparently even more exhausted than I first thought.

His snoring was steady, and somehow soothing.

As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I lay there beside him, watching the shape of his back rise and fall in time with his snores.

“Goodnight,” I whispered.

CHAPTER14

In the dream,Andrew was standing in the middle of the burning hot desert wearing the thick hooded jacket and arctic winterwear he took with him on his final expedition to the Norwegian glacier.

The intense heat didn’t seem to faze him at all as he stood beneath the blistering sun, pointing in one direction, then the other.

“Over there, that’s your home,” he said.

I shook my head. “That’s south. Oxford is to the northwest from here.”

He seemed to ignore me. “Over there,” he said, pointing west, “that’s Mecca.” He turned and said, “Over there, that’s where you crashed your car. Over there, that’s where you’ll find the old Portuguese fort. And over there… over there is where Cavendish lies.”

“Cavendish? Where is he? Show me where? I have to find him… I have to bring him home.”

Andrew looked at me and simply smiled. “Cavendishishome.” He paused, then pointed south again. “Your home… your home is over there. Arthur? Arthur, can you hear me? Did you sleep well?”

Andrew’s voice slowly became Tariq’s voice, asking me, “Arthur? Did you sleep well?”

My eyes opened wide, and suddenly the dream was over.

Tariq was sitting on my side of the bed, an intricately-painted ceramic coffee cup in his hand. “Would you like a coffee? I made you one.”

The dream had left me disoriented.

“Arthur? Are you alright?”

“Ah… yeah… I’m fine, thank you. I just… forgot where I was for a second.”

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