Friends and family began to arrive sharing their best wishes with the proud parents. Fouad had also come to congratulate them.
“Mabruk, Abu Ramee and Em Ramee,” he said as he looked at Ramee.
“Masha Allah, what a gorgeous little fellow,” he continued.
“So, I hope you guys are next,” Jamila replied.
“Insha Allah,” Fouad looked at me and smiled.
I was actually excited about the possibilities. What better way to start trying than our upcoming vacation. It was going to be our first wedding anniversary. Who would’ve known then I would have a change of heart. I was truly looking forward to it. We were going with a few other married couples, along with Rauf and his flavor of the month.
Fouad had truly turned a leaf. We were spending more time together and actually talking. He was starting to treat me as an equal listening to what I had to say. He expressed pride and respect towards me in front of others. I began to feel I could trust him. No more escapades, affairs or wandering eyes. I was convinced that he was smitten by my charms and that my feistiness was a turn on.
Fouad even warmed up to the idea of me greeting his male friends, in a respectful matter of course, and even holding a conversation in a group setting. Although most times, the men sat in Fouad’s personal study and the ladies gathered around the kitchen table. The Muslim religion encourages men and women not to interact to avoid temptation. I would just enter the room to serve them a cup of shy, tea or ahwa.
Two days before our anniversary, we were going to the theater to see Romeo and Juliet. The night before the event, he brought me this great, big box. Inside was a fabulous emerald green gown, a matching scarf and matching shoes.
“Do you like them, Fatima?” he asked.
“They are beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you.”
“I love…” I whispered shocking myself as we locked lips in a passionate kiss and made love all night long.
The next day while I was getting ready for our special evening, he came from behind and placed around my neck the most opulent emerald and diamond necklace I had ever seen. He had managed to lure me into his fancy world; a world I had been brought up in and had tried so hard to escape.
“Now you look like a goddess,” he said.
With every flattering word, he had succeeded in softening my hardened heart. I actually was considering the possibility that I could develop feelings for him. But it was a bit premature to express these emotions.
The phone rang and Fouad answered. After a brief conversation he told me he had to go back to the office to sign some papers.
“Why don’t we meet at the theater? I’ll have the driver come back for you and I’ll take a taxi,” he said.
“Do you have to?” I replied disappointed.
“Duty calls. But I’ll be there on time. I promise.”
He kissed me on the forehead and left.
The theater in the center of town was a majestic place. It was built by the Greeks around 300 B.C and extensively reworked by the Romans. The two-story auditorium included six staircases, stone walls, rows of pillars, a magnificent stage, and the orchestra. The red velvety chairs and curtains that seemed miles long were fit for royalty. I remembered, as a child, going to theaters all over the world with my father and feeling the excitement. Now, being here for the very first time, I was overwhelmed by the sense of grandeur evoked by this marvelous place.
Several hundred people were gathered outside waiting to get in. As I stepped out of the limo, all heads turned. Rauf immediately came to escort me.
“You look ravishing tonight,” Rauf said.
“You’re making me blush,” I replied.
The crowd moved aside as the bodyguards secured the way for the president’s son to walk in with me. The president and his wife were already inside sitting at their balcony. Several people we knew greeted us as we walked in.
“Has anyone seen Fouad?” I asked.
“I thought I saw him earlier,” Mariam said.
I noticed that her husband tapped her slightly in a very discrete manner. I got a very uneasy feeling and tried to put it out of my mind. As we were headed to our seats, I waved to Rauf’s parents. Once again, we were stopped by friends.
“Where’s Fouad?“ Nur asked.
“He had to stop by the office to sign some papers but he should be here any moment,” I replied.
“I wanted to introduce both of you to Dr. Ibrahim Al-Kateb,” Nur continued. “He recently moved back to Antarah after years in America. This is Mrs. Fatima Aziz.”
I was a little distracted during the introduction. Suddenly, when I looked up, I was drawn into his eyes and lost in the echo of his deep voice. For the first time, I was totally captivated by a man. This enchanting stranger with dreamy eyes, perfect lips and bright smile had managed to stir up feelings in me I never knew existed.
As my heartbeat accelerated and my palms became sweaty, my entire body was ignited with breathtaking sensations.
Then, unexpectedly, he extended his hand. I didn’t shake it. I was afraid I would walk away with him and never turn back. Who was this man who had awakened all these new feelings in me?
I was afraid that he or the others would see right through me so, I stepped back.
“Dr. Al-Kateb, I think you forget that you are not in America. In Antarah, women, especially married women, don’t shake hands with men,” I said in a sharp tone.
The doctor gently put his hand down.
“It was an honor to meet you,” he said in a very secure voice and continued. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. I have to remember that here, I have to abide by the customs,” he said staring at me.
Then, Dr. Al-Kateb shook hands with Rauf.
“It’s been a while,” Rauf said. “It’s good to have you back working at the hospital. We’ll have to get together.”
Nur took me aside.
“You look spectacular this evening. The doctor is a cutie, isn’t he?” she said.
“I’m a married woman Nur and, need I remind you, you are also. Where is Fouad? The play is about to start.”
I turned to Rauf. “Are you ready?”
Rauf and I sat with an empty seat between us, Fouad’s seat. I kept looking at my watch worried about Fouad and thinking about the doctor.
Rauf excused himself to go call Fouad. When he came back, he whispered in my ear that my husband had been tied up at the office but would try his best to make it before intermission.
During intermission, Rauf took me to greet his parents. We spoke briefly and I excused myself to go powder my nose. I sneaked backstage to take a quick look in a mirror. By mistake, I stumbled upon an actress’ dressing room and slowly opened the door hoping it would be empty. As I opened it, I heard some thumping and some moaning.
When I looked through the mirror, I saw him. Fouad was literally caught with his pants down. He was pressing against the young starlet’s naked body which he had bent over a chair. While he squeezed the side of her buttocks, he moved roughly pleasuring himself. Then, abruptly, he stopped as he caught a glimpse of me through the mirror. Immediately, I ran off. I heard him call my name while I stormed out of the theater.
As I was getting in the taxi, I looked up and at a distance saw Dr. Al- Kateb waiving good bye.
The entire trip home I kept replaying the image of Fouad and that woman. I also kept thinking about Dr. Al-Kateb. I just couldn’t get him out of my mind.
When I arrived, I tried to unclasp the necklace Fouad had given me earlier. In a failed attempt and frustrated, I just pulled it off, breaking it and leaving a mark around my neck. I took my clothes off and bundled them in a bag. I was throwing things all over our bedroom. I was infuriated. A deep feeling of betrayal had consumed my body.
I went to my safe haven, the pool, to think.
As I swam, I remembered our wedding night and the humiliations he put me through time and time again. This was the Fouad I knew and hated. He had never changed. He was the same bastard I met a year ago and would always be.
Fouad arrived a few minutes later. I could hear his muffled voice in the water calling my name. I kept swimming intensely like I did in my youth during swim meets. This time, I was racing for my sanity.
“Fatima. Talk to me.”
I ignored his requests.
Suddenly, I felt the thump in the water and a pull on my legs.
“Go away. I hate you,” I said as I came up. “I never should have married you. I should have known a playboy like you would never settle with one woman.”
He raised his hand to slap me but stopped himself. There was an almost remorseful look on his face. Enraged, I spit on his face.
“You disgust me.”
Suddenly, he held me forcefully close to his body. He was aroused by my reaction. As I tried to set myself loose, he let me go. I immediately rushed to the steps, and raced to the bedroom locking the door behind me afraid he would come take me by force.
Minutes later, he was on the other side of the door.
“Forgive me, Fatima. I truly love you.”
I crawled into a corner shivering as the events of the evening rushed through my mind and wondered why.
I cried myself to sleep and asked myself a million times how could I have been so stupid. Yet, in all my misery and confusion, I could not stop thinking about Dr. Ibrahim Al-Kateb and the feelings he had awoken in me.
The dreams of having a child and happily ever after were shattered. My love died before it even had a chance to blossom. Divorce was out of the question. It was his word against mine about the infidelity and there were no witnesses to back my claim. Fouad would never let me go. He would keep me a prisoner in my own home if I tried to fight this.
I woke up restless and went back to the pool to clear my mind and reflect on my future. With every breath, I released my anger and began to see an opportunity. I had to be very clever and play my cards right.
I started thinking how I would use this chain of events and his apparent remorse to manipulate Fouad into letting me do what I wanted. It was time to move into a new direction where I would set new rules. I had to play the role of the wounded bird to wrap him around my finger and take control of my life.
“The show must go on,” I thought. So, after a long shower, I headed to the kitchen for some coffee. I noticed he was sleeping in one of the guestrooms. Minutes later, he was standing in front of me.
“I don’t know what came over me last night…”
“I don’t want to discuss what happened. Not now, not ever,” I said.
“I am so sorry, Fatima. I love you,” he said as he tried to hug me.
“Don’t,” I pulled away. “I’ll be moving into one of the guestrooms.”
“No. I want you to stay in our bedroom. I’ll move out,” he paused. “Fatima, let’s go on our trip. Let’s put this unfortunate episode behind us.”
“Easy for you to say. I caught you screwing another woman last night. How am I supposed to erase that revolting image from my memory?”
“I’m guilty. It was an unforgivable mistake but I love you too much and I know you have a big, forgiving heart. I admit I’m weak but, I don’t want to lose you.”
“You just want me to pretend nothing happened; forgive and forget. How about Cyprus? You think I bought that story of Rauf and you taking care of some business on a daily basis? I saw you with that woman. And I’m sure there were others after that. But, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t give a damn,” I paused. “Then, something happened. Little by little, we started to grow closer and I thought... I guess I was a fool to think you were capable of loving anyone other than yourself. Why Fouad? You know what? Don’t even waste your breath. Forget it. I’m not going anywhere with you. I have an idea; maybe you want to ask that sharmuta you were with last night to go with you.”
“That woman means nothing to me,” he said raising his voice.
“She meant enough to risk losing me. This is useless. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. My decision is final. I am not going.”
“What are we going to tell our friends?”
“I’m sure you’ll come up with the perfect excuse. Or better yet, why don’t you tell them the real reason we are not going?”
Later that morning in Fouad’s office...
“Hi, my dear. I miss you. I need you back in Antarah. It is time.”
“Isn’t it a little soon?”
“Do I detect hesitation?”
“Of course not. It was about time. I miss everything about you. I hate knowing that she is in your arms instead of me.”
“It’s only you I think about, Esmaa. How long will it take you to tie all lose ends and get here? I have a position waiting for you.”
“The perfect position is you and me on your office desk.”
“We’ll have a lifetime for that my dear.”
“Can’t wait…”
Declaration Of Independence
During the weeks that followed, I was able to develop a plan that would bring me as close to freedom as I possibly could get.
Surprisingly, I received a call from my father. It was almost as if he sensed I was hurting, but I did not want to burden him with my problems. I led him to believe things were great between Fouad and me.
As usual, he asked about Jamila. He also wanted to know if I was blessing him with a grandchild. I painfully responded.
“No.”
I would have loved to give him the joyous news he longed to hear but now more than ever it was impossible.
Baba informed me that he was leasing our home and moving to the infamous Watergate Apartments. He felt the house was too big for him especially now that Samira wanted to move back to Antarah. He was also surrounded by too many painful memories.
I asked my father to convince Samira to move into my house to help me with the cooking and the chores. I needed an ally; someone I could trust with my life. I knew she loved me like a daughter and would be loyal. She immediately agreed.
I started contacting my closer friends feeding them the line that I felt down and lonely. I told them Fouad worked such long hours and was away so much that I was going crazy. Jamila, unaware of my situation, suggested I should have a baby. She joked that I was going through a postpartum depression even though she was the one who had the baby.
I insisted that I needed a challenge in my life and motherhood was not the answer. I reminded her about that speech she once gave me about making a difference for the people of Antarah. I spoke to Nur and Mariam about my education and my desire for an outlet to express my talents. In a subtle way, I was getting them to intercede on my behalf.
Finally, a few weeks later, Jamila, Nur and Mariam went by Fouad’s office.
“Ladies, what a surprise,” he said. “Where’s my little Ramee?
“He is actually with Fatima,” Jamila said. “I told her I needed to run some errands and I thought she could use Ramee’s charm to cheer her up.”
“Fatima doesn’t know we are here,” Nur replied.
“We came because we are worried about her,” Jamila explained. “She hasn’t been herself lately. She seems depressed.”
“So, what do you suggest I do?” he said in a semi sarcastic tone.
“She needs a distraction,” Mariam answered.
“I’ve tried to convince her to go visit her father in Washington or go with me on a romantic getaway,” he insisted.
“We’re talking about a more permanent distraction,” Nur said.
“What do you mean?” he curiously replied.
“Well, she has a degree in psychology with a minor in anthropology. I know she had planned to go for her Masters’ i
n social work, ” Jamila answered. “The hospital is short handed. It could really use her skills.”
“A job,” he paused. “Did she put you up to this?”
“No. She knows nothing about it and we rather you not tell her we were here. The hospital is looking for volunteers to work with children. She’s mentioned her desire to start a family. This opportunity could be very inspiring,” Nur added.
“Who will take care of the house?’ he asked concerned.
“Khale Samira is moving back to Antarah. I’m sure she would love to help Fatima with her house duties,” Jamila replied.
“Anyway the position is part-time so she wouldn’t be out all day,” Mariam added.
“All this is very unexpected. I’ll have to give it some serious consideration and discuss it with Fatima,” he said.
“I hope we didn’t overstep by coming to see you,” Jamila said.
“Ladies, it was a pleasure. I appreciate your concern for my wife. I’m pleased to know she has such good friends. My regards to Abu Ramee and kiss that beautiful boy of yours on his uncle’s behalf,” he said.
“Masalame, God be with you, Fouad,” the ladies said.
“Allah isalmec, God be with you,” he replied.
When he got home that evening, he called me into his study.
“Fatima, we have to talk. I feel I’ve given you enough space. I’m concerned about you,” he said as he tried to caress me.
I pulled back and sat down.
“I heard Samira is moving back to Antarah,”
“Did you speak to Baba?” I asked.
“No.”
“So, who told you?”
“That’s not important. Have you told anyone about us?“
“No.”
“Not even Jamila?”
I knew he was fishing. “No. You think I take pleasure degrading myself? Fouad, what’s this about?”
“It’s about a truce.”
“If it’s another trip, I’m not interested.”
“How would you like to volunteer at the hospital working with children?” he said.
Mediteranean Sunset Page 7
