Page 17 of The Moon Also Rises
“Yeah, I do,” I admit.
“Where were you living before that?”
“Marrakech, for a year. Managing one of Bill and Simeon’s resorts, actually. That’s how we met. Before that I was in Crete for five years, managing a family-owned high-end resort. That was where I met Lionel…” My thoughts threaten to wander away but I quickly reel them back in. “And prior to that, I was all over. Did seasons in nearly all corners of Europe, and a couple in Egypt and Tunisia too.”
“Ahh, Egypt. Beautiful country.”
“Is that where your descendants are from? I’m hesitant to make assumptions but you called your sistershaqiqaon the phone the other day, which I know is Arabic.”
“Well, I’m impressed you know some Arabic. My parents are first-generation immigrants from Iran, but my mother’s family was originally from Lebanon, so she also spoke Arabic and a bit of French with us as well as Farsi. Mom and Dad moved here shortly after the Revolution in 1979. They had me when they were both just twenty, so I was a baby when we arrived, and my sisters were born here later.”
“So, you can speak Arabic, Farsi, French, and English? Wow.”
“They’re all a bit rusty, butnaeam,bale,ouiand yes.” He smiles and I realise that was another attempt at a joke. It was terrible, but in an admittedly cute sort of way.
“That’s lucky. My mother was Spanish but sadly never taught us. I’ve tried to learn since but it’s quite limited now.” I pray he doesn’t ask more questions about my mother.
“Learning new things is hard the older we get,” Rami says, his eyes so steadily on me again, I have to look away.
“What are your sisters’ names?” I ask.
“Radia and Roxana, or Roxie.”
“And which one works as a tailor?”
“Radia. Roxie was a happy but very big surprise when my parents thought they were long done with child-rearing. She’s only nineteen and lives at home, still in Birmingham.”
“Wow, that’s a big age difference,”
“It is,” Rami agrees and for a minute I think he’s going to say more but he doesn’t.
“Are you all close?”
This brings another tentative smile to his face. “We are. Sort of. I go home every Sunday to spend the day with them.”
“You see your parents every week?”
Rami swallows before he replies, “Actually, it’s just my mom. Baba, my dad, died four years ago.”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks,” he says and his smile wavers until he nods at me. “What about you? How often do you see your parents?”
“I’m also in the one living parent club. Terrible membership benefits, aren’t they?” I smile weakly. “My mum died when I was younger. A lot younger. It’s just my dad now but he lives up in Scotland, so I don’t see him that much.” I deliberately don’t find Rami’s eyes and then take a big drink of my coffee, finishing it. “You know, I should probably head back to the office. Will you wait ten minutes before you come back?”
Shaking his head, Rami chuckles in a way which could be laughing at me or laughingwithme and it annoys me that I can’t tell the difference. “Sure,” he agrees.
“I’ll get everything organised before the big day. I’ve told them about your vegan meal choices. I’ll book a car hire, get a gift, and will tell Lionel my amazing new boyfriend Rami is coming. Oh, and I’ve already confirmed with the venue that we’re in a room with two single beds, so you don’t need to worry about one of my wayward homosexual limbs groping you in the middle of the night.”
I swear Rami’s cheeks turn a little pinker.God, straight men are such over-reactors.
“Okay, thanks,” he says.
“You are going to be alright with this, aren’t you? I may have to touch you now and then to keep up the pretence. But I promise to be appropriate.”
His brow lowers when he catches my eye. “I am totally okay with this, Jake. Don’t worry. I’m happy to help.”
I’m about to find the server to get the death sentence that will be our bill when I see a waiter already on the approach with a phone in his hand.
