The Mystery of Love: Our Love Never Changes, but We Might Change the Lover

By Ayman Baroudi

Love, like fire, triggered my first short story even though I was still ten.
I am now seventy, yet the same fire still starts me to write.
Love makes miracles. Don’t you think so?
Now, what about the book?
It’s a bold trial to raise a question that concerns us, keeps us alive, and makes the world go around but does not expect an answer.
The challenging question is, how to keep the fire of love on and save our passion from the trip of boredom and monotony?
Is moving beyond conventional monogamy the answer?
Maybe yes, maybe not, because love is a mystery to enjoy, not to sort out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9781669879619

Ayman Baroudi

Love had been the trigger that made me write my first short story when I was ten years only while life experience stood behind writing my first novel when I turned into the fifties. Love taught me that with every new woman, we write a new story until we find out that knowing one woman well is equal to unfold the secret of the universe. All went on well till the proxy war broke out in my country Syria, and I went against my old beliefs. The first challenge was writing this novel in English rather than my mother language with the hope of making my voice heard. The second was writing about the deep association of dogma, sex, and money, and their vital influence over the political standings. And as it’s said, everything happens for a reason. So we may one day turn the page, go beyond national, cultural, or religious boundaries and work together to have a united world free from wars and borders.

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Copyright © 2023 by Ayman Baroudi.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 06/07/2023

Xlibris

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CONTENTS

Dedication

1. The Memoir

2. The Cup of Tea Knows Everything

3. My Name is Anthony

4. Shades of Love

5. The Funny Farm

6. Rock and Rain

7. The Temple and Mirage

8. The Glory of Red Lips

9. Adventure in Dubai

10. Love is Not a Simple Game

11. The Director’s Chair

12. Roberto Was Not Safe in Thailand

13. MR. X and Mrs. Y Cruising the Caribbean

14. The Mystery of Love

15. The Voice

16. Princess from Iran

17. The Tears of an Artist

18. The Woman in Jeans

19. Seduced by the Moment

20. Love Never Dies

21. Adamo Likes to be Alone

22. My Little Zoo

DEDICATION

I dedicate this book to my wife, who devoted her life to our family.

My reality exceeded my brightest dreams

1

The Memoir

I t was one of those boring evenings when I returned home after a tiring day and didn’t know what to do. I was hungry, yet not in the mood to eat alone. What did I want? I wanted good company. But after my ex-boyfriend gave me a goodbye kiss, no one else showed an interest in me.

My grandmother said once that the bankrupt guy gets back to his old books. I did the same. I took a seat in the room’s corner, went through a memoir containing memories from school’s time, and laughed with tears when I came to read my funny note on Philip Langston. The dullest guy in the class. I remembered when he’d dared to ask me out to dinner, how I shied—then agreed, because no one else had ever tried to date me till then.

The time we’d spent finishing our dinner was a disaster.

Why?

Ah, because Philip confessed, I was the first girl who agreed to go out with him.

I tried with all the girls in the class, but no one … ah, no one-

I cut him short and said, So I was the last on your list?

Ah, yes, the last, sorry to be frank, you know I was looking for someone… how I say it! I was looking for someone more… someone more feminine.

What!

I tried to be frank.

Frank! You’re Frankenstein, you’re dull, you are...

I said and threw the knife and fork and ran away crying.

I closed the notebook. Fifteen years had passed since the disaster dinner, and Philip could be right in saying I was not so feminine. Nothing so romantic has happened since then unless we consider short and boring relationships a romance.

I was so hungry now and ready to eat an elephant. No, let me have a hot shower first, I thought.

What a wonderful feeling! The small window in the bathroom, my favorite detail of the apartment, overlooks a magical world, like looking into the future. I could see a long line of illuminated towers through it while I was enjoying the excitement of warm water drops sliding down the smooth surface of my body.

I turned my eyes from the fabulous view to gaze at my legs. So attractive, I said aloud. What I’m missing is the luck or maybe the confidence to present myself.

The memory of past lovers returned to my mind from a different view. Maybe they admired me, but I didn’t treat them well! I looked again at my legs in the mirror and thought, Maybe I was busy-minded, giving more priority to my job in real estate rather than my love affair, aiming to be the number one seller in the region!

Reaching that conclusion made me feel at peace.

I restored my freshness after showering and opened the fridge to eat something. I put some cold meat and bread on the table. Then changed my mind and cooked rice stick noodles with some exotic mushrooms.

While eating and watching a movie, a curious thought came into my mind. What about Philip? What did he do after schooling time? How could life treat him now?

That was how I decided to call him the next morning- hoping he would invite me for dinner to remember the old days.

We met at the same restaurant where we’d met for the first (and last) time. He arrived late and looked unhandsome, as he used to be at school time, or even worse, but more energetic and confident. He must be doing well. I thought and wondered how he didn’t even notice the effort I made to look likable, nor care to say any compliments. Philip just said hi as if we met yesterday and went through the menu to order food.

Till the server brought the food, he received so many calls and took his time talking over his cellular like I was not there.

I didn’t mind his odd behavior. I was interested in what he was discussing in his telephone conversation. He sounded like a big shot talking millions.

I gazed at his facial feature and the way he dressed. Yes, he was not so desirable, but talking business in an authoritative tone made him look alpha, dominant, and successful. He could be the ideal husband for a mature woman like me, more interested in financial freedom.

After a short meaningless chat, I asked if he had met the woman of his dream.

His answer was simple: a lot, then continued stuffing himself with rice and meat.

A lot!

Yes, I spent a fortune on each of them, but they all left me.

Why? I asked though I was expecting the answer.

They came to the same conclusion that I’m dull.

And when he wanted to know something about me, I didn’t talk about the lovers who deserted me. Waves of confidence ran through me as a successful businesswoman. I crossed my legs at the knees, placed my hands on my lap, and lengthened my spin. In short. I sat tall. And in a proud tone, I talked about my job in real estate. I presented myself as a legend - talented in networking with other professionals and service providers whose services complement real estate.

That time only, he stopped eating and looked at me as if he was seeing me for the first time. His eyes radiated a sort of appreciation that made me believe he would realize that I’m a better choice than a sexy woman who doesn’t have more than her sexual appearance. I expected him to say something that surprised me, and he did.

Real estate! You said you’re doing well in real estate?

Yes, I did!

The most important in the real estate business is trust. I trust nobody in this city, but I trust you because I know you from school and will sign an exclusive agreement to sell my penthouse apartment with you.

After dinner, we went to his office. There we signed the agreement, which helped me make a commission of twenty thousand dollars, become Philip Langston’s best friend, and later Mrs. Langston.

Forty years have passed since that golden night. Now Philip and I are seventy years old. We’re celebrating our anniversary on the island of love—Capri. It’s fantastic that we still make love like the sex of day one and keep writing our memoirs in a small black notebook to keep our sweet memories alive.

Only one’s mind will exist.

2

The Cup of Tea Knows Everything

T he elephant in the room. It’s heavy. I can’t talk, and my wife can’t speak, either. I suggested making her tea; she screamed, it’s not the teatime. I understood we couldn’t make our relationship work again, and sat next to her, trying to count the flames in the fireplace.

They count five.

They count four.

Her answer gave a little hope. Great! The difference between five and four is a little.

I would never cheat on you anymore; that was what I thought to say now, but the elephant in the room stopped me from speaking my mind. I knew my wife had found out what I was doing, and her pride prevented her from opening the subject with me.

I tried again to confess I did something wrong, but shame made me shut my mouth.

Yes, what a shame! I didn’t do it with someone where I could claim it was a slip or something like that. I did it with Rosaline, my wife’s lifetime friend. The woman who kind of became part of our life.

When Rosaline divorced her husband and didn’t know where to go, my wife hosted her.

When the heater cut out in Rosaline’s bedroom, my wife invited her to sleep with us in our bed.

But did Rosaline and I do something terrible?

After a long time alone, waiting for my wife to return from the office, Rosaline and I became intimate friends.

We never thought! Yes, we never thought having (friendly sex) would hurt anyone.

But whatever happened, or didn’t happen, now I feel guilty and worried about ruing my marriage relationship with my lovely wife.

The silence is heavy, but it’s a kind of conversation and even more expressive than words. I counted the flames in the fireplace again. They count five, not four; the fire tells me I’m right and have good reason to do what I did. They tell me when my wife said the flames counted four; she cheated on me. The silence turned to confusion. Few things you feel, but you don’t like to admit, a few things like the thought that my wife cheated me, saying the flames were four.

Eventually, my wife cried. It was a good sign that she would forgive me if I opened my heart.

I hugged her. It felt like the elephant had left the room, and now we could reveal everything.

We can’t keep things hidden forever, my wife said while tears were all over her face.

I know, darling, we must always talk and forgive.

You mean you’re going to forgive me?

Forgive what?

You know what I’m talking about; you know everything, she said. I know you had found out I was cheating on you.

Cheating on me!

We don’t need details since you said we’ll forgive.

At that moment, I froze. Did she have an affair?

I asked my higher mind to help me. All is possible. I remembered the long hours I’d waited for my wife to return home, her new boss who asked her to join him on business trips. The prince in me felt like turning into a frog. The sudden brightness in her eyes said something like; now we’re equal. My higher mind was going slower than usual, which didn’t help me with a decision yet.

To gain time, I asked her if she liked to have tea.

She smiled.

Why not? Let us enjoy a cup of tea.

Love doesn’t follow the rules. Otherwise, it makes little sense.

3

My Name is Anthony

A t the end of a long and tiring day, I went to one of those third-class bars where I could get drunk and pay little. Shortly after I’d arrived, a charming woman came in. She turned the regulars’ heads. It was unusual that a woman with such a luxury dress and jewelry visits this bar. She sat next to me at the counter. Her presence was so strong and made me feel shy with my shabby clothes. I thought of leaving my place and sitting far that I watched her beauty with no embarrassment, but she surprised me by introducing herself.

My name is Emma. It’s the first time I have come to this place.

I tried hard till I found my voice. I’m Anthony.

Nice name. My late husband’s name was Anthony. He was such a nice man. He looked handsome like you and even smelled nice like you smell.

What on earth was she meaning? I was sure I was not looking handsome or smelling nice; my job doesn’t allow me such luxury. I’m a Sanitation Worker, and