I came out of the small side street and looked both ways into the market. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember which way I had come from. Did we pass that fruit stand on our way here, or was it the clothing store?
Standing slightly back from the river of people passing by, I looked right and then left, hoping something — anything — would jog my memory. But in the end I couldn’t be sure; nothing looked familiar.
Hoping it was the right choice, I turned left and took my chances. I figured they were fifty-fifty that I would make it home without getting lost. I also figured this wasn’t the safest place to be on my own, but to tell you the truth I was too upset to care. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down. My mind was still racing with questions.
Should I tell Dad about Mr. Hadad’s friend? If I do, will he freak out about the whole boyfriend thing? What’s going to happen to me and Nasir? He’d said that the Arab community was close … Will he still love me if I send his father’s friend to jail?
That last question was the most troubling. More than anything I wanted to turn a blind eye to what I had seen and pretend nothing had happened this afternoon. Just keep my mouth shut and not cause any trouble. That’s what the old me would have done.
It was tempting, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I had no choice. I couldn’t let this guy get away with his crimes. To do so would be to betray my own father. And I suddenly realized just how much I needed to protect him. The same way he’s needed to protect me. I knew in my heart it’s what Mom would have wanted us to do for each other.
“I have to come clean and tell him everything,” I whispered to myself. Somehow, saying the words out loud made the decision feel that much more final. And in the same breath, I accepted that my relationship with Nasir might very well be over.
The realization of what I was about to do poured over me in a wave of nausea. Stopping by a nervous-looking shoe vendor, I clutched at my stomach in an effort to keep the queasiness from taking over. I breathed in slow, deep breaths, silently willing myself not to throw up all over his table of leather sandals. As soon as the nausea passed, I dug my cellphone out of my backpack and turned the power on.
Suddenly, out of the rabble of the crowd, I heard somebody yelling in English.
“Mary? Mary, wait!”
I spun around and saw Nasir’s father running towards me. Is he talking to me?
“Mary, wait — you forgot something in the apartment!” he called, pushing his way through the tangle of people. Yup, he’s definitely talking to me. But why’s he calling me Mary?
I watched as he hurried to catch up, his big brown eyes so full of intensity — just like Nasir’s. Gosh, what a nice man, I thought, wondering how I could have been so scared of him before. Trying to see above the crowd, I stood on my tiptoes and started to wave. But my hand froze when I saw his friend, who was following a few steps behind. I knew from one look at his face that he remembered me. Feeling a little scared, I shook my head and turned to walk the other way.
“Sorry, I really have to go!” I mumbled, hurrying off down the street.
A second later, my entire world turned upside down when I heard the dealer scream something.
“Wa-ifooha! Wa-ifooha!”
I couldn’t understand the words, but that awful raspy voice of his filled my heart with fear. Instinct took over my body; I started running. The dealer screamed again. I glanced over my shoulder and saw both men running after me.
Oh my God!
Right then and there, the streets of the souk transformed into my own personal nightmare. Panic quickly set in as I crashed my way through the crowded market. I was so terrified I couldn’t think straight. I knew why the dealer was chasing me, but why was Mr. Hadad chasing me, too? And where did Nasir go? There had to be some kind of rational explanation.
But there was no time to figure it out. Whenever I turned back to look, I saw the dealer’s angry, red, panting face getting closer and closer, gaining on me with every step. At this rate, I knew it wouldn’t be long before he caught up.
“Help! Help!” I tried to scream as I tore madly through the mobs of people. But I was too overcome with fear to make a sound. I couldn’t believe this was happening!
Desperate to lose my pursuers, I turned a sharp corner and quickly ducked into the shadow of a doorway. I held my breath and sent out a silent prayer as the men flew by, passing no more than three feet away from my hiding spot.
Once I saw that they were a safe distance away, I turned around and doubled back. That’s when I remembered the cellphone still clutched in my hand. Thank God Dad programmed his number for me, I thought, hitting the speed-dial button. But instead of my father’s voice, all I could get was a series of loud, angry beeps. I tried again and again, but the phone wasn’t picking up a signal. This part of the Old City was a dead spot.
Damn it!
I flipped the phone shut and ran on, stopping for one precious second to grab a scarf from an astonished vendor and wrap it around my hair. I knew my blond, uncovered head had been a spotlight, giving me away at every turn.
Wearing my new disguise, I picked up my pace and kept going. I had a bigger lead this time but I knew it might not last.
Nasir, where are you? my brain shrieked. Why aren’t you here? Why aren’t you helping me? I didn’t know what to think. The one thing I knew for sure was that I had to get away from this crazy place and make it home safely to Dad.
I ran and ran and ran, my feet pounding the cobblestones, my pulse throbbing in my ears, my bag hammering against my back with every step. I felt like a fugitive, looking over my shoulder every few minutes to see if they were catching up.
Unfortunately, I was never very good at long-distance running. My throat was screaming with each breath and my lungs felt like they were going to burst out of my chest. I had to save my voice; calling Dad was my only way out of here. Gasping for air, I ran into a small carpet store and ducked down into a dark corner at the back. As my legs groaned with relief, I sunk down onto the floor and tried the phone again. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely push the buttons. Come on, come on, come on, I prayed under my breath while my eyes darted around the store. The clerk, a stern-looking Arab man with bushy eyebrows and a red-and-white checkered headdress, was giving me a look like he was about to kick me out any second. And then I heard a ringing in my ear. Oh my God! A signal! And then, a second later, a voice.
“Hello?”
It was Dad! I nearly cried with relief.
“Dad? Dad?” I whispered, petrified to give my hiding spot away by talking too loudly. “Can you hear me? I need help!”
“Mackenzie? Honey? Where are you?”
“In the souk — come fast!”
“What? I can’t hear you … Talk louder. Where did you say you were?”
“The Arab souk — in the Old City. Come fast, Dad, please! They’re trying to catch me!”
“What are you talking about? Who’s trying to catch you?”
I heard footsteps coming towards me and looked up. It was Mr. Hadad and his friend — they’d found me! A wave of panic seized my heart. I screamed so loudly my eyeballs shook. Jumping to my feet, I looked around all the hanging carpets, frantically searching for another way out of the store. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a half-open door leading to a dingy back alley. I knew it was my only chance. Using every last muscle in my body, I lunged towards it. But the dealer lunged faster. As I hurtled myself into the alley he caught me by the tail of my shirt and pulled me to the ground.
“Dad! Help me!” I shrieked into the phone, which was still clutched in my hand. A second later the dealer grabbed it and threw it down against the cobblestone street, shattering it to pieces … along with my last chance of being rescued.
Suddenly, I knew if I was going to get out of this mess, I would have to save myself. I remember hearing once that a woman’s most powerful weapon is her own voice, so I started using it.
“Let me go!” I shrieked at the top of my lungs. “You can’t do this to me! Somebody help! Call the police!”
I used all my strength to wrench myself free from his grasp. I put up the fight of my life, but he was just too strong. Holding me around my waist, he clasped a gross, sweaty hand over my mouth and leaned in so close that the tips of our noses were almost touching. His breath smelled like stale coffee and cigarettes. I wanted to gag.
“Listen to me!” he growled. “If you run or scream again I will be forced to hurt you.”
He reached behind his back, pulled out a jagged-edged knife, and held it up to my face. I gasped. Mr. Hadad’s big brown eyes stared out at me from the reflection. He looked scared, too.
I turned my head to the left and saw him standing in the doorway a few feet away. Too petrified to make a noise, all I could do was plead with my eyes: Help me! Don’t let this lunatic hurt me! But he just stood there silently, witnessing my attack. I wondered if his “friend” had threatened him, also.
“Start walking!” the dealer barked, removing his hand from my mouth. Then, with a quick flash of silver, the tip of his knife pointed into the soft flesh between my ribs. I swallowed another scream, terrified he might push it in deeper. He moved the knife around to my back where it would be hidden by the bulk of my backpack. I started stumbling forward, my eyes so blurry with tears that I could barely see my feet.
How is Dad going to find me now? My brain sobbed as I stepped over the remains of my cellphone. And where the hell is Nasir? Does he have any idea what’s happening to me?
I tripped over a particularly uneven cobblestone and fell to my knees. “Get up,” the dealer growled, pulling me to my feet by the straps of my backpack. Then he pushed me forward again — down a maze of alleyways, under a small bridge, up the stinky stairwell, and back to the Hadads’ apartment overlooking the market.