Faluka

The faluka is slowly drifting back to shore, back to the glittering
lights of Garden City, and I realize, heart sinking, that our time is
up, and I still haven't had the courage to tell him.

But all night long, he'd been playing that stupid board game, laughing
in the circle, while I lay alone at the mast, watched the stars,
listened to his voice and the August breeze.

Now that we're nearly home, I turn to the Nile, dip my fingers into the
black water, opening my palm to feel the rippling, rippling waves rush
through.

The breeze is gentle.

The boy sits watching me with that heart-wrenching smile of his.
Smiling and then he reaches out and traces the water too, watching
me.

"You know"
he finally speaks
"I've never drunk from the Nile before?"

I laugh, and then when I see he's serious, I swallow my grin and
say:

"Well, um, me neither"

In my head, I'm trying to remember the saying that goes
"He who drinks from the Nile.."

This boy, he reaches down and cups some water in his hand, I realize
he's bordering on insanity again, and despite myself, cannot help
squeaking
"What are you doing?!"

He looks up to me, smiles, my beautiful, and says,
"Well, why don't we?"

"Yeah yeah.."
I answer rather shrilly, not sure if he's serious, see his expression;
he's serious.

So I hesitate, and suddenly I notice the silence of our friends around
us as they watch this fragile moment.
Already I can hear their minds clicking, trying to figure us out.

Me, it's pretty obvious. All they have to do is read my eyes.

I turn to him, and with an honesty I hope he'll look deeper into, I
say:

"I will if you will"

"OK" he says, reaches down, I gasp in disbelief as he cups the water to
his mouth, and swallows this ancient water, infested with centuries of
waste, poison, sewage, disease.

(Later on, my friend Sarah gives me a lecture:
"Do you realize" she yells, "How many civilizations have peed into that
water?")

But he drinks, and I love him more for his stupidity, shining eyes
reminding me of
"I will if you will".

So I reach out, must keep my promise, and swallow my fear, this water,
sweet and gentle, just like his smile.
I turn to him, the faluka has come home, water in my throat and in my
heart, as I think
"He who drinks from the Nile.."