The Wrong Cairo

**WINNER** of the May 31, 2016 "Invalid Item"  with the prompt a drawing of a man and woman riding camels by a sphinx and a guide walking next to them. The date was 1897.

Also featured as an Editor's Pick in the "Short Stories Newsletter (June 29, 2016)" 

The Wrong Cairo

Eva pouted, annoyed for getting into this situation and even more annoyed at the good Dr. Theorem for putting her in this situation. Honestly, if you say you’re going to Cairo, who wouldn’t think you meant Cairo, Georgia. Egypt? Who would want to come to this god-forsaken place…dust and camels and spiders and…really, why would anyone want to come to Egypt? And why would she have possibly thought he didn’t mean Georgia? When he said Rome, he meant Georgia. When he said Athens, he meant Georgia. Why wouldn’t he mean Georgia when he suggested they go to Cairo?

Dr. Theorem looked back at her from his camel, smiling over his shoulder. “Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?”

Keeping her voice low on the first word, “Not quite, my love.”

Her mother had reminded her that Dr. Theorem was a good catch for a lady “such as herself.” Her mother meant no offense by it. Simply that Eva didn’t enjoy, nor did she particularly excel at, domestic duties. What with slavery having been abolished some thirty-plus years ago, getting help without having much means was virtually impossible these days. She shifted her weight in the awkward saddle on the camel’s back. Shifting, shifting, it never seemed to make a difference. No matter what, she was uncomfortable.

“Dr. Theorem, might I ask if we are almost there?”

Dr. Theorem asked their guide a question that, even to her untrained ear, sounded like broken Egyptian, or whatever language they spoke here. Eva smirked. “Well, he does try,” she thought to herself.

The guide answered in only slightly accented English. This made Eva’s smirk turn into a full smile. “We still have another hour or so left, sir.”

Hearing the answer, Eva’s smile broke down and she groaned. “Dr. Theorem, I’m sore.”

“Where are you sore, my dear?”

She wiggled uncomfortably again, this time more at the question. “Um, in my camel riding bits, my love.” She didn’t like having to be so explicit in front of their guide.

“You can make it just a bit further, can’t you my dear? It’s only another hour or so.”

Her mother had told her to expect an engagement proposal. Why else would they be going all the way to Egypt? Her mother had better be right. After all, they weren’t in Georgia anymore.