Читать книгу BOGUS - Jill Ganger - Страница 9

It was a final goodbye. He'd said so many goodbyes to his family - not by choice.

At twelve it was so difficult for him to leave his mom to go to the military training camp that his father had arranged for him. He had so longed for his mother that he never forgot that goodbye. He never forgave his father, because it was a goodbye to everything from his childhood. As his father put it, "he was leaving home to become a man." To his father it was a new beginning, not a goodbye. In that year of training camp, he was only allowed to go home once. And when he did, it didn't feel the same. His mother wasn't the same, and he wasn't either. He felt sorrow for the childhood lost, but his father hadn't changed. His father had always been proud of him and told him that Allah would be very proud of him someday. He had studied hard to please his father and Allah, but during his time at the camp, he had also learned that perhaps neither of them would be happy with his private choices for his life.

He said goodbye again when he went off to school - the finest of private schools that Libya had to offer. The tutoring in his youth had served him well. He had always been a star student. He learned the languages that he would later need to comprehend and speak. He was fluent in Arabic of course, but through years of study he became fluent in English and Spanish. He had been tutored in English and Spanish from an early age, and by the time he went to the military camp he was relatively fluent. Everything was reinforced in the camp, and continued to be reinforced in his private school years. He was gifted in the sciences. In the private school he studied Biology and Chemistry, compounding his knowledge from the military camp. He learned something besides academics in his private school years. His father had arranged for an older woman to meet with him on a regular basis. Amad was a handsome boy with the fine delicate features from his mother mixed with the rugged handsome looks from his father. He grew a beard and mustache as soon as they would grow, and he carefully maintained them to his satisfaction. His hair was combed and neat at all times. Even at this young age the girls would fawn over him and he definitely enjoyed that. He didn’t know that this older woman was being paid by his father, but he did understand that these lessons would have extreme value for him in his later years. He learned wonderful skills at the hands of this beautiful Arabic woman. She taught him to pleasure her and to be pleasured by her. She was kind, gentle, and patient with him. He dreamt about her often and wondered if this was what love was all about. When he finished at the private school, what he missed most, was the time that he spent with her. He used what he learned from this woman many times while he was away at school, but none of the girls from his school years were any comparison to his teacher. His good looks attracted the girls to him, and he used that to his personal advantage. He learned to suppress his true feelings and enjoy only the physical sensations that he experienced with them. They, on the other hand, had no idea that he really didn’t care. His skills had been well practiced, but through his entire life he could only enjoy a sexual experience if he envisioned his beautiful teacher.

At nineteen years old he came home again, perhaps for the final time. His father proclaimed him ready for his Jihadist mission. He might be leaving the Middle East forever.

His father called him into his study one evening shortly after he returned. “You will be traveling to Mexico City, my son. My associate will meet you at the airport with a new identity and a Mexican passport. Your appearance will easily blend in with the Mexicans and your Spanish is fluent. Eventually you will leave Mexico and be accepted into a fine university in the United States. I will stay here, but you will be under surveillance. You do understand – son?”

“Does Mama know?” Amad asked in his native language.