"Is it true?"
I stared at the text for a long time, trying to decide what to say. I never lied to Rena. During our phone calls, I was truthful by omission. It was impossible to lie about something that was never brought up.
So we danced around the subject and chose our words carefully, always having two completely different conversations at the same time, which undoubtedly lead me to this point. Completely unable to avoid a glaring question with only two possible answers.
A few minutes passed and I considered just ignoring it, but I knew that would only make her more worried. But so would telling her the truth. And so would lying. I groaned. It was a lose, lose, lose.
I didn't have time to make a decision before she started calling me. I picked up after the third ring, taking a moment to turn on screen record.
"Is it true?" she repeated. No greeting.
"Yes and no," I replied after a moment.
"What does that mean?"
"Yes, he's telling people we are engaged and pregnant, but no he did not propose or sleep with me." The thought of it made me gag. "I don't know what to do, Rena."
"I knew it!" she yelled without missing a beat. "See, I knew you would never agree to that! Your mom tried to convince me over Facebook, but I could sense this wasn't your decision. No sir-ee."
"She messaged you about this?" I asked.
"No, I just commented on her post."
"She posted about this!?" I could've crushed the phone in my hands.
How could that woman called me her child? She clearly didn't know the first thing about me! I was furious, but I wasn't surprised at all. This showed exactly how shortsighted she'd become. Two and a half decades to get to know me and this is who she thought I was? Someone who would abandon their morals at the drop of a hat just to chase some horrid brewing industry magnate?
I didn't want to get married at all, let alone to that creep! This was something I had told her many times. I figured she would understand, given that she was the one warning me before every date that "he is only worth his word" so I should never trust a liar. I guess that all flew out the window when the "he" in question was so profitable. I still hadn't replied to her text and now I wondered if I ever would.
I could just leave. Buy a plane ticket with Noël's card, pack up my still meager belongings, and flee the country. I couldn't go back to Egypt, he'd find me there. I started to consider other places with low alcohol consumption rates, as he wouldn't have business there anyway, which ruled out most of Europe and North America. They were too cold for me anyway. I had always wanted to go to Singapore, but I was pretty sure I'd mentioned that to him one time.
Over the next few hours, I darted around the house, packing up everything that was mine, still debating where I should go.
I was dead set on Yemen while folding all my laundry, but by the time I'd cleared off my bookshelf, I had decided on Niger. It was the Maldives while cleaning out the closets and Guatemala when I finally sat down on my pink suitcase to zipper it shut. Anywhere, really. Anywhere but here.
Out of breath from how frantically I packed, I stayed seated for a moment, proud of my decision.
Then I heard my phone ring.
