excerpt
She realizes from his rapid breathing he just had a dream. The one he has
seen so many other times, the dream of a decapitated city, of thousands of
corpses. He has seen this dream time and again.
She hugs him and holds him in her arms as the sweat begins to give him
chills. Emily covers him and lies next to him quietly. She doesn’t want to ever
leave him alone again to have these nightmares. She wants to stay with him
forever. This moment somehow unites them forever, no matter how short that
forever may be, no matter how fast the clock might turn, bringing an end to their
union, the clock that now shows three in the morning. She puts her hand on his
chest and helps him relax, and as she does so his world becomes beautiful and has
meaning once again, although he’s still thinking of the dream.
“The same dream, over and over again, Emily. I see the same corpses. I get the
same feeling of pain, the same feeling of hate. So many years have gone by and
the same dream comes and torments me, time and again. Why?”
“I don’t know, my love. Try to put it out of your mind; try to think of other
things, more pleasant, happy things. Think of our trip to Iraq in January, the
Persian Gulf with its beauty.” Her hand travels softly down his body.
She explores his body for the first time in days, and as she caresses him all
over, she gets excited faster than he does. Yes, Emily is very aroused now and she
gets on top of him. She places herself on top of his arousal and for the first time in
days, enjoys her sexuality to the fullest. She feels she’s a woman again, and the
man she loves to be with is right here with her. They satisfy each other for an
hour before the light from the morning star comes over the chaos to awaken the
lethargic citizens of Los Angeles.
Hakim has risen before Jennifer as he does most of the time; she loves to stay in
bed a bit longer than he, especially on weekends. His mind is on Bevan Longhorn
and he looks at the clock on the wall; it’s 7:20 a.m., so it must be around 6:20 in
the evening in Baghdad. He decides to send his uncle an e-mail while it is still
early in the evening for him. He may go to bed early because of his illness.
He goes to his workstation and types in a message. Ibrahim is there, as if
expecting Hakim’s message this Saturday evening.
“Hello there, my uncle, how are you?”
“Hello, my dearest son. I’m alright, and you?”
“I’m good; how is my dearest Mara?”
“She’s okay; she’s here next to me watching her favorite TV show.”
“My hugs and kisses to both of you. How is your health, and how are the
reactions to the medication?”
Libros Libertad 