“We should stop here,” Joseph said.
“Why?”
“For one thing, you’re wearing no pants. We need to draw as little attention to ourselves as possible, and that sure isn’t going to help. I’m also half naked and in general look like I’ve just murdered someone. We’ll use a gold coin to pay for clothes.”
“Okay…”
Joseph cautiously approached the nearest clothes stall and set me down on the ground. He placed his arms around my waist, standing behind me with my back against his chest, keeping me close to him. I could feel his breath on the top of my head as he breathed me in while we moved closer to the stand.
The stall owner—a short woman wearing a hijab—gave me a disgusted look as I stood there half undressed. I ignored her expression. I was beyond caring at this stage.
I picked a black headscarf with a veil that covered my entire face except my eyes, and then a long black robe for the rest of my body. Then I looked for something suitable for Joseph to wear. I just ended up picking a black robe to help him blend in better.
And then it was time for payment. Removing the backpack from my shoulders, I reached inside and pulled out the smallest coin that I could find. Even still, the clothes we were buying would be worth only a tiny fraction of it.
The woman frowned as I placed the coin on the table. Then looked back at me.
“Hm? I only accept cash,” she replied in Arabic.
“This is all I have,” I replied, also in Arabic.
She picked it up and stared at it. I guessed she thought it was fake. I couldn’t blame her. What moron would pay for a few garments with a gold coin of this weight? She placed it between her teeth and bit hard. I was about to walk away with the clothes, but she said, “No. Wait.”
I heaved a sigh, even as I wrapped the new robe around me and placed the headscarf and veil over my head and face. She made her way over to a small vehicle where a man sat in the driver’s seat—presumably her husband. I watched as she showed him the coin. He examined it carefully, just as she had done. And then he nodded.
She looked over at us. “Okay, you can take the clothes.”
I scoffed. Thanks.
Joseph was still breathing heavily as we backed away. Once we were at a distance where he was comfortable taking a few steps back from me, he put on his own robe. Now that we were dressed, I resumed my position on his back and he continued running toward the borders of the city.
“Where do we head first?” I asked, as the sand gave way and we arrived at a concrete road.
“We need to find somewhere safe to stay until this evening.”
I looked up and down the road, trying to see if I recognized anything about this area. I didn’t. So Joseph just started running along the road toward where the most noise was coming from. We passed along narrow road after road until we eventually reached a square that was lined with shops. In one corner, I spotted a sign that read Guest House.
I pointed it out to Joseph and we arrived outside a mud-brick building a few seconds later. I climbed off Joseph’s back and was about to head inside when Joseph pulled me back.
“Look,” he said.
He pointed to a poster attached to one of the lamp posts. A poster with my, Lalia’s, and Hassan’s passport photos on it. I guessed this was one of many posters that were put up the night I disappeared too.
“Oh.”
“It’s a good thing you’re wearing a niqab,” Joseph said quietly. “You don’t want to be seen by anyone now that the hunters are after you… Let’s keep moving.”
I tore my eyes away from the poster as Joseph ushered me into the building. We found ourselves in a small bare-walled reception room that reeked of detergent. There was a desk in the center of it, but nobody was sitting behind it. I rang the brass bell four times.
A man with a unibrow and a thick bushy mustache emerged from one of the back rooms.
Joseph’s grip around my waist was almost painful.
“Yes?” the man said in English, looking from me to Joseph.
“We would like a room,” I replied in Arabic as I clutched Joseph’s hands around my waist and loosened them slightly. “Just until this evening.”
He eyed Joseph more closely. “Are you married?”
“No,” I replied, already realizing where this was heading.
“We don’t allow cohabiting between unmarried men and women. You will need to book separate—”
“We won’t be sleeping here. We’ll be leaving tonight, as I said.”
He looked at me suspiciously. “You are not Egyptian nationals? I will need to see your passports.”
“We don’t have passports with us.”
“Then I’m sorry, we can’t accommodate you here.”
I breathed out in frustration. Sliding the backpack off my back, I pulled out another gold coin and planted it on the desk none too gently.
“How about now?”
His eyes widened as he looked down at the coin. He picked it up and examined it. He was faster to realize its value than the clothes merchant. He nodded toward a narrow staircase.
“All right,” he said. Reaching into one of the drawers, he pulled out a key and handed it to me. “Until this evening only?”
That coin might have paid for a hundred nights in this basic guesthouse.
I just nodded politely. “Please, and I hope you’ll provide drinking water.”
“Of course,” he said, bowing his head.