Eli and I had been dating for three months. We’d known each other for 14 years, and for the last five, he had tried to get me to marry him, and I’d resisted.
I had finally decided that we could make it as a couple, and we’d jumped right into our relationship, taking it almost immediately to the next level when we rented a friend's apartment in a small town outside Beirut. I booked this trip to Cyprus because we both had a stressful summer and needed a break. Unfortunately, he hadn’t gotten his visa, which broke my heart. I felt anxious and unsafe, and he was just about the only person to calm me down. The minute my plane landed in Larnaca, I felt something was off. I had gone crazy again. I was sure it was unsafe outside the airport, and I was convinced that all the taxis were Russian mafia and ready to kidnap me. I was so anxious that I couldn’t withdraw cash from the ATM because I kept inputting the wrong card. I finally managed to text Charles, and he told me he was waiting for me at the hotel and would keep an eye out for the taxi when I arrived. I had no choice but to take the plunge and pick among the terrifying Russian mob figures waiting for customers. The drive felt like hours, although it was just one hour, and it took us a few more minutes to find the hotel as it was new. I was reassured to find Charles standing by the entrance and waiting for me. The minute we got into the room, I took him outside to the balcony and told him something was wrong. I saw things, there was danger everywhere, and I did not feel safe. I had no clue what was happening, and neither did he. But we would figure it out. We were in a safe hotel in a city that only cared about booze and fun. We could have had a great time if we trusted each other. And that I could do. My best friend Alex had decided that this man, her husband, was trustworthy, and that was all I needed to trust him myself. We went to the town square and had a drink while catching up. They had recently moved to Dubai, and Charles was writing a book while looking for a job. Life had not been kind to him, but he consistently impressed me with his upbeat attitude. Back in the hotel, I felt anxious again. The room was overly electronic. The bathroom had a lighting fixture that changed colors as if in a nightclub. The door locked electronically, and all the lighting in the room was managed by a light panel that seemed exceedingly technological. There was an iPad-like device near my bed that I managed to operate and turned into a music device that played classical music. I managed to sleep that night for a few hours. The next day, Charles and I met at this lovely Greek coffee place. It seemed as though the Greeks had managed to come back in droves to Cyprus. Indeed, the hotel I was staying at was managed primarily by Greeks. This only reinforced my love for this town and island. We walked back to the hotel and went up to the pool, waiting for Joan to arrive. I had decided I wanted to enjoy myself; looking over the pool's edge was the magnificent view of the city and the sea extending beyond. It was Captain Morgan's time. I channeled my brother’s joie de vivre and drank Rum and Cokes all day. Joan came with her stories, and we had a grand time catching up and talking about life. I was beyond buzzed by sunset, and anxiety had hit me again. There was a conspiracy happening. Something had happened in Beirut or was about to happen. Something terrible, and I was somehow involved. Next to us, a group of Israeli were having a good time. At some point, one of them went across us and face timed with someone. I felt like they were spying on us, somehow identifying us. That same man turned towards us later, and I thought I heard him say, “I need to whack someone.” This sent me over the roof with anxiety, and I told Charles I didn’t feel safe and wanted them to accompany me to my room. I had asked housekeeping not to make the room, yet when I arrived, they had made it. Charles said maybe they meant to make it to protect you. Or so I thought, he said. By then, I had no idea what was real and what wasn’t. We stopped by his hotel next, trying to make sense of my anxieties and what was going on in my mind. I remember he kept saying maybe consider that it’s not about you. Then why did I feel so scared? What the hell was going on? We had a nice dinner, but I did not feel safe. Something was wrong. The people around us, the cars passing by, and the conversation itself. Something was wrong, but I couldn’t make sense of it. I had read enough books and seen enough movies to make myself paranoid to the extreme. We didn’t go out after dinner. We all needed a rest after the day of partying and the liters of alcohol we’d consumed. Tomorrow we’d go to Limassol and catch up with old friends. Again, I couldn’t sleep. I felt like Grace Kelly was on the verge of suicide by alcohol poisoning and sleep deprivation. Something was wrong, but I didn’t know what. I checked out early from the hotel, and Joan drove us to Limassol. We stopped by her house quickly and then headed to Colombia Beach House. We had a drink with Savvas, whom I was meeting for the first time. We went back to Joan’s for a quick shower and then met with Joan’s boyfriend, his little girl, Omar, and Laura. I was so anxious that I only managed to drink sparkling water, clutching it as hard as I could to the bottle so no one would drug it up. I was feeling light-headed, and we went to have dinner in the square. I was starting to feel much better physically, but my paranoia was not easing up. Something was going on, and I couldn’t figure it out. I could only trust Charles and Joan and hope for the best.
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AuthorI was born in 1986 in Lebanon. I'm still trying to find my passion in life and in the meantime I'm learning to navigate my bipolarity and redefining stability. Archives
February 2024
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