When I get home my boyfriend helps me pack my bags. I don't get anything for myself, though Noah keeps just the bare essentials such as food. I want to get there as fast as possible.

I take a quick shower before I go. I want to wash off his touch. His hold on my waist. Any remnants of it.

I wash my mouth out with soap. I wash it out many times until my mouth is bitter and dry. I step out of the shower. I hate myself.

I want to go.

"I booked a flight for you to Cairo. Two hours and 30 minutes from now. Economy. Be safe out there."

"Thank you, Noah," I say tearfully and feel the tears well up in my eyes for probably the 22nd time. "I'll be back soon."

"I know you will," he says.

I hug him.

***
I take a taxi to the airport. I run through the passport and security controls, briefly show my face to the top-stood scanner and pass customs. Just in time.

I hurry when it says 'last call' on the speakers, thrust my boarding pass into the hands of the young short inspector, and go through the sleeve. Thank God not a bus. I put my little luggage up on the shelf, and push through two old ladies to my seat by the window. I check my purse.

My boyfriend has put 10 hundred bucks into it.

God, he really must love me.

With tears in my eyes I watch the deputies with headphones move around from the window during the agonizing wait before take-off. It is agonizing. For me. It wasn't as agonizing before.

The plane takes off, finally.

I leave for Cairo.