A Ballad of Love and Hate

I spent the next two weeks with Ryan, getting as much done on my line as possible and getting as much time with him as possible before I left.

“I just can’t believe my men’s line is done,” I stood back in awe, looking at all my outfits that clung onto the mannequins. Ryan wrapped his arms around my waist from behind.

“You did it, babe, you truly have it all,” he whispered in my ear. I turned around and looked up at him.

“I wish you could come with me,” I frowned as I was finally leaving tomorrow morning. Ryan smiled and shook his head.

“You know you wouldn’t grow as much and learn as much if I was there distracting you. And we have it all planned. You’ll call me and face time me daily and skype all the time. And midway through, I’m coming to visit you,” he assured me of the plans we had made the last two weeks.

I nodded as I clung onto Ryan.

The guilt of everything with Conor had faded, the thoughts and questioning of everything faded as well.

But I couldn’t help but hope and pray that Conor and Ryan would work it out these next six months with me being gone. And the hope that Conor would stop liking me also rose.

“And promise me, Noah, that you’ll stay away from the crazy political unrest they’re having over there, and that you won’t wander around Africa, wanting to save the world,” he said to me seriously.

“I won’t Ryan, I’m just there to get Middle Eastern and African fashion feel. I love the modesty and beauty these women hold,” I said excitedly. I removed myself from Ryan and looked at my fashion studio one more time. I grabbed my keys and turned off the lights.

I wouldn’t be back to my practical second home for another six months.

Ryan took me to dinner at an upscale restaurant in the Upper East Side. Our hands clung to one another the entire time, both of us wanting to feel one last time.

We sat there and talked about everything we could to get our minds of this being our last night together.

“Do you remember that time in college before you transferred when we decided a road trip would be fun?” Ryan asked. I laughed recalling the worst decision we had ever made in school.

“Yeah, we just got in your car, which was on empty, and had no clue where to go and we ended up in Mobile, Alabama with a flat tire,” I smiled

“Hey, six hour road trip, not bad. But you know what was the best part?” Ryan asked I looked at him for an answer.

“The fact that you just rolled with it. You didn’t get pissed that our first stop was right off campus for gas, you didn’t yell at me for the fact that we were in Alabama, with a flat. Instead you pulled your hair back and attempted to help me, you were so adorable, Noah,” he smiled.

“I couldn’t lift that tire up,” I sighed. Ryan shook his head and rubbed my hand.

“I love you, Noah, I loved you then and I am still in love with you now,” he said to me seriously. I looked down and smiled.

“Ryan, I love you too,” I said, allowing a tear to fall down my cheek. Ryan reached and rubbed it away.

“Come on, let’s go,” he stood and put down a few hundreds and leading me out of the restaurant. Ryan and I took a towncar to my apartment and silently went up the elevator. As we got ready for bed, I put on one of Ryan’s shirts and sat on his lap as he mindlessly flipped through the channels in his underwear in my livingroom.

“Show me how much you love me one more time, Ry,” I whispered. Ryan turned the TV off and carried me to my room. Gently placing me on the bed, he kissed me everywhere he could, pulling off his shirt as he worked.

I wore no underwear. Ryan slowly kissed my stomach and chest, kissing me softly but firmly on the lips.

“I do truly love you, Noah,” Ryan said to me before he removed his underwear and physically connected with me once more.

This was unlike any sex we had ever had. It was full of so much. Desire to show off his masculinity. Desire to show me he loved me and wouldn’t forget me. And it was certainly full of emotions. I allowed a few tears to fall as he moved in and out of me and noticed that he too had a tear or two in his eyes. I reached to wipe them away as Ryan moved faster, causing me to cry out.

Ryan collapsed next to me and pulled me into his arms.

“I love you so much, Ryan Lochte,” I whispered on his chest.

I went to bed, thankful to be in Ryan’s arms one last time.

I woke up the next morning bright and early. All my bags were packed and my documents were in my carry on, ready to be checked.

I took my last possible hot shower for the next six months and straightened out my short hair. I put on makeup and a long sleeved shirt and jeans that were not tight.

Before getting cleared to go to Libya, I was told of the strict rules that women were not allowed to wear tight clothing and needed to have arms and legs covered at all times.

I was also told that alcohol was strictly illegal in the nation and premarital sex is cause for punishment.

This next six months was going to be extremely hard but extremely worth it. Not many Americans get the clear to travel to the Middle East, let alone a fashion designer who was only there to learn. I would be studying under a male designer Andres Aquino, a man who did not necessarily follow the covered ideals and beliefs but used his culture to make beautiful pieces for American a-listers and fashionistas.

Ryan woke up and saw all my bags waiting by the door and sighed.

“I guess it’s time, huh?” He said. I nodded slowly as Ryan kept on his glasses and put on a sweatshirt and a pair of pants. He helped load my stuff into the town car and held my hand the whole way to the JFK.

No words were exchanged, we just wanted to sit and be present with one another one last time.

When I finally got to the airport, Ryan helped me check my bags and stayed with me all the way up until customs. We were both holding back the emotions we were feeling as cameras and eyes began to follow our every move.

“The moment you land, call me,” He said, holding my face in his hands. I nodded and put my hands on top of his.

“Ryan, I’m going to miss you so much,” I said, not having any other words to say. Ryan pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead.

“I can’t begin to tell you how much I’m going to miss you. I haven’t even gotten to enjoy you as my girlfriend for long and you’re jetting off,” he laughed lightly. I held onto him tighter.

“But this will be good for us, we learned from our last time apart, we know to to do this, and we’re much wiser than we were back then,” I said to him.

“Noah, you have to promise me that you won’t go out there, trying to save the world, don’t trust anyone, okay?” He said to me seriously.

“Ryan, I’m not going to be wreckless, I love you too much to be wreckless,” I smiled. Ryan crashed his lips onto mine forcefully, reminding me how amazing of a kisser he was.

“I love you, Noah, you got that? I love you so much,” he said. I kissed him delicately on the cheek and smiled back at him.

“I love you too, Ryan,” I said. Hugging him once more, I walked away, allowing a few tears to fall as I went to customs to get cleared for my flight.

There were no direct flights to Libya from the US so I would have a connecting flight in Istanbul to Tripoli, the capital and where I would be working. I sat back on my long flight, trying not to think about Ryan and the fact that I was already longing for him. I also couldn’t help but fear that things would happen just as they did last time, that we would fight and one of us would give up on the relationship like I did years ago. I began bouncing my leg up and down nervously.

“If you keep doing that, your leg might fall off,” the Middle Eastern woman said next to me. I turned and saw her dressed in full Islamic wear with only her facial features being shown to me.

“I’m sorry, I’m just away from my boyfriend for the first time in a very long time,” I smiled. She looked at me and understood.

“I have been away from my family for three years, working in America for support to my mother, I’m very excited to go home and see her once again,” she said to me. I looked at her.

She was beautiful. I couldn’t see her shape, I couldn’t see her weight or if she had a pear or apple shape. All my attention had to be focused onto her face. It was something I appreciated about Islamic culture. That women are not judged for what their body can offer but out of pure beauty in their face.

“That must be so hard for you,” I said sympathetically.

Her light brown eyes looked at me with a hint of sparkle in them. Her dark olive complexion didn’t have a blemish on it. She smiled beautifully at me.

“Yes, it was but today, we will come together again, I will be home soon,” she said excitedly.

“What are you doing going to Turkey and by yourself?” She questioned. I pulled out my sketchbook and pencil, encountering her was giving me so many ideas.
“I am actually going to Libya, to study under a Middle Eastern designer,” I shared. She looked taken aback.

“Be careful there, you are too pretty and too American to be safe on your own,” she said seriously.

“I will be smart,” I assured, the woman shook her head.

“So much political unrest in these lands. So many people fighting over who the lands belong to, so many angry people and at Americans, you are light hair, light skin, different eyes, I worry for you,” she said solemnly.

I began to sketch a long sleeve, loose fitting shirt with buttons and a bow that tied at the collar. I added a big hood on the back for women to loosely put over their head that was inspired by the head covering the women wore.

I began to sketch loose fitting pants, that got slim as the reach the ankles, that had a bow around the waist to tie. Ideas began to flow.

I was soon shaken awake by the flight attendant telling me that I had landed in Turkey. I looked over and saw the woman next to me was gone. She left a note on my sketchbook.

“I pray the dua prayer for you to Allah, be wise, young girl.” It read. I stuffed the note into my sketchbook and grabbed my stuff and left the plane.

I turned my phone on and called Ryan.

“Hi beautiful,” he answered.

“Ry, it’s so late in America, I was going to leave a voicemail,” I smiled, happy that he answered the phone.

“Yeah, like I would miss your call, are you in Turkey now?” He asked.

“Just got here, I have to report to the American consulate and then board my flight to Libya,” I sighed, trying to find my way around a busy airport.

“Are you aware of your surroundings?” Ryan asked concerned, I’m sure that he could hear all the noise and yelling around me.

“Yes, I am. They are definitely staring at my blonde hair but I just found the English speaking people, I’m going to ask for help,” I said to Ryan as I heard English finally being spoken.

“Don’t trust anyone, Noah, I love you, okay?” I could tell Ryan was deeply concerned.

“I love you too,” I replied before hanging up and greeting the kind airport woman, showing my passport and that I have arrived.

“Alright, we have you in the computer, and miss? Might I recommend a head covering, your very English looking and this will help the stares lessen,” the woman informed me, she handed me a dark blue scarf that I placed on my head and twisted around my neck.

I felt a little more secure as I no longer stuck out like a sore thumb.

I thanked the lady for her help and found my next terminal. I felt the unease around me.

Many people were still yelling in a language I didn’t understand, men wore long robes and guns around their shoulders. Women were fully covered still but many wore vibrant colors and patterns. Little girls were just as modest and young women stood close to their fathers. I saw no young love. I didn’t see people kissing their loved ones goodbye as I did just 12 hours ago. No one playing on iPhones, no computers out. Everyone was in conversation or silent. Few were on mats, praying towards their holyland.

I pulled out my sketchbook again and began to draw more. As women walked, I thought of more long elegant and flowing gowns. I thought of adding texture and beauty to the dress that reminded me of the royalty these women were displaying.

I looked up and saw others boarding the plane so I put my drawing away and also boarded. I bowed my head to be polite and show thankfulness to the attendant as she checked me in. I was blown away by how much respect people had towards one another.

I got on the plane and began to grow more anxious. Americans are not loved in the Middle East. Not by any regards. We’re seen as over sexual, pretentious people with disrespect to religion. It scared me just how vulnerable I was to be traveling alone. No wonder Ryan was so worried on the phone.

Ryan. I looked at my lock screen to see his face. A picture of us during my last weeks in the US. I stared at those beautiful eyes through my screen and began to regret my decision of being away.

But this was good, I kept saying to myself. It was time for me to grow more as a designer and time for Ryan to reconcile with Conor. This was needed for us both.

And I would see him soon on facetime.

Soon enough, I arrived in Libya and found a man with my name on a sign. I sighed in relief, no longer feeling alone.

“Welcome, Miss Henderson, I am Abdul, I am your driver for the next six months, we get your things,” he bowed to me. I bowed back and went to grab all my luggage.

“Here, you must be very careful, Miss Henderson, we go through many troubled times right now but Andres, he will be taking you in at his home with his wife, you will be safe,” he explained, I followed him closely as he helped with my things and led me to his black SUV.

Immediately when I got outside the airport, many were protesting, yelling and holding signs. I pulled out my phone and called Ryan.

“Hi sweetheart,” I said on the phone when he answered groggily.

“Oh God, Noah, it’s such a relief to hear your beautiful voice,” he said in relief once more.

“Awh, baby, I’m safe, in a SUV with a driver, we’re going to the Embassy and then I start, but Ry, honey, I miss you so much,” I said, trying not to sound upset.

“Hey, you know I miss you too but you know this is your dream right now, you have always wanted this abroad opportunity,” he reminded me.

“I know, and it is, such a dream come true but, Ry, people are so different, yelling but present with each others, anger everywhere, oh and I have a head covering,” I chuckled at the last part.

“The whole women having to cover their bodies pisses me off a little, you got it, show it,” he said passively.

“Oh you would, honey, but dear, we’re arriving to the embassy, I can’t wait to see you,” I said, upset that I have to already hang up.

“Me either, I love you, Noah” he said.

“I love you too, my love,” I replied before hanging up.

“Miss Henderson, you are not married,” Abdul said to me.

“No sir, I’m not,” I smiled. He helped me out and to the Embassy.

“But you talk to this man like he is your husband, saying pet names and telling him you love him,” he was confused at my conversation with Ryan.

“Yes, in America, that’s okay, sir,” I explained. He led me to the gate and stopped.

“This is as far as I can go, I’m not American, I will wait for you right here,” he explained. I nodded and handed my passport over to the US soldier.

“Follow me,” he said seriously and didn’t speak until we were inside.

“Do you need an American escort while you’re here?” The soldier asked me. I looked at him confused.

“Uh, no?” I said. The soldier nodded and led me to a private room.

“Noah Henderson, welcome,” a lady greeted me.

“So now that you’re here, we have you checked in, please don’t travel without telling us you’re leaving the city or country. We want to keep you safe. Also, I see you have been properly covered, stay that way. They will arrest you for indecent exposure. Also, no men are allowed in your bedroom, that’s punishable,” she explained.

“Wait, my boyfriend, he’s coming in three months, I fully expect on having him in my room,” I said, not caring that I was openly sharing I would be getting it on when he came.

“Oh no, that’s impossible, you both can get into serious trouble, I’m sorry Noah, out of marriage sex is illegal in the nation, we require you follow their rules. If you want that, you have to leave the country,” she explained.

That was ridiculous.

The women told me about more rules the nation had and that while I was working with a male, I wouldn’t be able to work with him alone, I would have to have one other person present.

This was going to be hard.

Finally getting all the rules down, I was excused to leave and go to the home I would be staying at.

We arrived to the home of Andres. A beautiful middle eastern home with a cast iron gate, keeping out the crazy. I was led inside to a grand entry. The floor was marble and the ceilings were high. Warm colors filled the walls and couture dresses were on display.

“Ah budding designer, Noah Henderson, welcome,” a man who I knew to be Andres came and greeted me with a soft handshake. I smiled politely as the greying man bowed as he shook my hand.

“Thank you so much for this opportunity, I threw out there how badly I wanted to go to the middle east to study a few years ago, I never thought I’d get the chance,” I grinned.

“Yes, your mentor designer told me about you and about your desire to be in the conflicting areas. I’m glad American designers are still into our history. Come I will show you around,” he had me follow him and Abdyl around the house.

“My studio is downtown, we will see that later. But here, you will find my design room and a sewing room. This will also be your work space as well. I buy all my fabrics at the open markets as well, I like to stay true to my heritage,” Andres led me into a huge workroom with sketch pads on easels and mannequins holding current designs. I saw all his awards around this room.

“And here, these are your headquarters, you will find empty space for all your stuff, make it your own,” he led me into a huge bedroom with an attached bathroom.

“Do you have a guest room my boyfriend can stay in when he comes?” I asked. Andres laughed at me.

“My dear, an unwed man cannot stay in the same house as an unwed woman, you will be arrested, you will meet my wife soon,” he explained.

“As you are unwed, you are not suppose to be uncovered around men either. I do not follow the modest rules of this country, in my home, please make yourself comfortable, when we go out, just remember the Libyan rules.

“For now, rest, tomorrow we will start designing,” he smiled and left me to my room.

Abdul set my bags in and left me alone. I fell down on the bed and the reality of where I was began to sink in. So much information was thrown at me. I began to let a few tears fall, realizing that Ryan and I would truly be separated for six months.

What have I done?