She

I remember the first time we met. I had just gotten back from my first unsuccessful trip to Doha, I was looking for work, and fate led me to a small production house in a street I had long since forgotten existed in Sin El Fil.

She was sitting on the floor in the owner's office, hysterically typing on her laptop. It was summer, it was hot, but those weren't admissible excuses in my view for her to wear such a short top. She struck me as bold and powerful. She was exactly my type. I instantly disliked her.

I had no choice. I took the dreadful job. It bored me senseless. She didn't. We hit it off in no time. It didn't take us long before we found ourselves having a drink or a coffee somewhere, and it took much less even before I became her guardian angel - literally. Or was it her who was mine all this time?

Lebanese have found countless ways to spend their money on petty things and to commercialize every other occasion that comes their way. The famous Christmas's guardian angel is just another form of those endless ways. It is especially common within the circle of employees in small firms. And of all people in that office, I picked out hers at random. I gave her chocolate, food and the like, but that wasn't all, I intruded on her privacy in her mother's presence among us. She was contagious: I had become bold too. I gave her the most radical and inappropriate gift ever. I had her head spinning and wildly guessing. She accused everyone. She had never suspected her biggest admirer. 

Eventually she found out I was the guilty part during that fateful Christmas dinner. Fateful because it was the night I dreamed of the infamous Robert. It was her who sought him out, who called his name in pubs at the top of her lungs. Her argument was: He might be here, he might answer, you might be happy.

And happy I was to have found such a faithful and loyal friend or even partner if I dare say. 

What? Did you really think I was a lesbian and so was she?? I am so very sorry to disappoint you, but we aren't, although she has always calmly stated that "she wanted my body". She still does. Ask her. 

Friendship evolved. By Valentine's day we were almost ready to board the plane that will take us to our dream destination, the breathtaking Czech capital. 

Three ladies had the time of their lives in Prague. We bonded. We moved in together with a forth even. We lived under the same roof, sharing everything from water to secrets.

It was on her shoulder that I cried my eyes out. It was in her car that we drove to nowhere in particular. She was the tough nail on which I hanged like the saggy old painting that I am. 

And then came the day when we parted. We didn't argue. We didn't shout. We didn't even plan it, but we had drifted apart. For a while it seemed that the only thing that had held us together as far as we had was the same roof, and when we came out of its protective shadow, it was too hazy for us to spot each other anymore. 

But like magnets - or soul mates if those really do exist - we had found  the way each to the other again. We picked up where we had left off. Water came back to its stream...

And we lived happily ever....

Or we almost did.

Distance will always be a barrier trying to keep us apart.

But we are stronger than distance, and soon my dear friend, very soon, I will become wider than the continent that separates us, and I will give you a high five...from your beloved Beirut... to the Paris I long for...