Black Keys

by Rose B Mashal

  The prince went to the bathroom and I went to my now-favorite spot in front of the window as Mona took care of Janna.

  When he came out, he was shirtless.

  I swallowed thickly.

  All of the thoughts I’d had about him not too long ago came back full force, wondering and admiring. And all of the thoughts about forgetting said thoughts were actually that–forgotten.

  He looked mesmerizing.

  “Are they still in there?” He pointed to the closet with the now closed door.

  “Yeah, I guess Janna is changing or something,” I told him.

  I guess you’ll have to stay shirtless for a while… Hmm…

  He nodded, moved a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. “Uh…” His words were interrupted by the sound of the closet door opening.

  Janna came out without Mona and closed the door behind her. “They are going to clean the floor,” she said with embarrassed eyes.

  “They?”

  “Mona and Nora – my maid. She brought me my clothes,” Janna said.

  Her maid? Where the heck did she come from?

  “I’m so sorry, Marie.”

  “Hey, Janna, it’s really ok–” I was cut off mid-sentence with the sound of the main bedroom door being opened abruptly and with such force that it jerked back with a loud noise as it hit the wall.

  The queen came running in our direction, and the rage in her eyes made me shiver. She was up to no good.

  “Mother,” the prince said in greeting, his voice careful and his pose strong but humble.

  The queen started screaming in Arabic–yelling words I didn’t think would be nice in anyway. Janna was trembling and tears filled her eyes as she looked down, fear seeping out of her in strong waves.

  What’s going on?

  “She was just coming to say goodbye with her husband,” the prince said.

  The queen started yelling again, her hands flying in the air, her voice laced with venom and anger.

  “Mother, she threw up and that was what delayed her. Everything is fine, she’ll go now.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with him,” Janna blurted out with a shaky voice.

  If I’d thought that the queen’s eyes were filled with rage before, I now thought they were filled with fire, hateful fire. Scary fire.

  “Sagtah!” the queen yelled, her hand rising up in the air, ready to strike Janna on the face. I watched with terror as Janna flinched but didn’t move away–as if this was something she was used to, something that happened on a daily basis.

  It broke my heart.

  She was royal, a princess, the daughter of the king. She was supposed to be spoiled rotten and treated as if she were made of glass–not insulted, humiliated and abused. And even if she weren’t royal, nobody deserved to be treated this way. It was really sad to watch, especially knowing you could do nothing about it. I had to squeeze my eyes shut and turn my head away, because it was the only thing I could do.

  The noise that followed wasn’t one coming from a slap, like I had expected; it was the prince’s deep voice, “I told you she was leaving.”

  I opened my eyes to find him holding her hand up, just an inch away from Janna’s scared, pained face.

  They stayed frozen in this state for several moments, the queen shooting him deadly looks and the prince holding her stare until she put her hand down.

  She asked him something and he glanced my way for a second before looking back at her, which made her turn her face in my direction and sneer.

  “Mona!” the prince called. “Have Nora take Princess Janna to her wing, and tell her to come to me if anything happens,” he said when Mona entered the room, his eyes not leaving his mother’s. It didn’t take a genius to realize that his words held a warning to…the queen.

  Wow!

  Janna left, using the living room door. I assumed her maid would be following or something, though she didn’t enter the bedroom.

  The queen started yelling again, causing the prince to huff and then clench his teeth, replying by shaking his head every once in a while and that was it. Eventually he said, “It’s just a small problem with him that they’ll fix soon; there is no need for all of this.”

  The yelling continued and I had to roll my eyes and look away. I had a strong feeling the queen was mental.

  Suddenly her shrieking voice stopped, and I turned my head again to see if the prince had shoved his fist in her mouth already to finally shut her up, as I silently hoped.

  Her mouth was agape, but there was no fist inside of it as I’d fantasized. Her eyes were wide open and fixed on the prince’s shoulder. She then grabbed the top of his arm and asked a question, her other hand pointing to his less-than-two-day-old wound.

  Oh, no!

  My mouth went dry.

  “It’s, uh…the mirror in the bathroom broke; it caused this. No big deal,” the prince answered the question I now knew for sure was questioning what had caused the wound on his shoulder.

  “Ameer!” the queen gasped, then spoke in Arabic again.

  I wanted to scream.

  “No, Mother, I’m not lying. It’s the truth.”

  I didn’t like what I was seeing, nor did I like what I was hearing. The prince’s tone was not that strong, rough tone I’d heard him use many times with my brother, his sister and Mona. It sounded like he wasn’t that powerful person at all. And I think that there was some fading trace of panic in his voice.

  I hated it.

  And I hated the queen for it.

  I didn’t understand why he wasn’t stopping her, shutting her up and kicking her out. She was sticking her nose in our business and involving herself in things that weren’t hers to ask or even talk about.

  I wanted to tell her exactly that. I wanted to scream at her: ‘Shut up!’ that we had had enough, that I had had enough of her and her stupid attitude. But I couldn’t.

  I just couldn’t.

  There was this thing about her…she was scary. Like, really, really scary. I had a strong feeling she could do whatever she wanted to do, and that the ‘whatever she wanted to do’ wasn’t always a good thing. Or ever. Because, since the first time I’d met her at the wedding, she hadn’t seemed nice; she wouldn’t even talk to me. The morning that followed, she threatened me that I’ll see what I won’t find pleasing if I ever hurt her son, and then the prince told me that ‘she wouldn’t be happy’ if she learned about me being forced, that we didn’t want that. Then Janna told me that the queen ‘couldn’t hate her more,’ and right after that she tried to strike her. And now with the prince–the powerful, commanding prince–not daring to tell her to mind her own business…it was just too scary. Clearly, you just couldn’t mess with that woman.

  And I hated it more than anything I’d ever hated.

  Because no one should be like that, act like that, and just get away with it. On a daily basis. It was sickening.

  The queen let go of the prince’s arm with a jerk and turned to look at me. Her eyes would be shooting fire if they could, scaring me even more if that was possible.

  “You weren’t a virgin after all.” Bitterness filled her voice. “I knew it!” She threw her hands up in the air, screaming the words in frustration, causing me to flinch and to take a step back.

  Even though my gaze was fixed on her, I was able to see from the corner of my eye as the prince gripped his hair with both of his hands–apparently this was something he’d never wanted to have happen.

  The queen took a deep breath, and despite the fact that deep breaths were supposed to calm you down when nervous or angry, it seemed that the queen took one so she could scream it out with her next words.

  “You and your brother are dead.”

  Merciful God!

  My eyes widened even more, and I felt like someone had just punched me in the chest. I clutched my cross for dear life as I saw her taking a step towards me.

  God! God! Oh, God!

  What’s she going to do?

  In
one second the prince moved to stand right in front of me, blocking her from reaching me. Though I was grateful, I couldn’t help but wonder what she was going to do if the prince hadn’t stepped between us. Was she going to hit me? Or was she going to choke me to death? And if the prince wasn’t there to stop her, what kind of power did I have to prevent anything like that from happening? The answer wasn’t hard to find. There was nothing I could do. Absolutely nothing.

  “She’s a virgin, Mother, she’s a virgin,” the prince said in a rush, both of his hands in front of him in a settle-down motion. “It’s not what you think.”

  She yelled at him in the language that had grown to drive me insane, since I didn’t get a word in it, and my head started spinning faster than ever.

  “Mother,” the prince said slowly. “I s-swear to God she’s a virgin. She just–needs time.”

  That seemed to shut her up for a minute. I peeked over his shoulder to look at her and see what her reaction was to that. Her eyes were focused on the prince’s in a look that seemed like she was studying him, like she was searching for something else, other than the words he’d just said, only breaking her stare when he nodded his head as if he was begging her wordlessly to believe him.

  My heart almost burst out of my chest when her glare found my eyes. I had to look down and hide behind the prince’s broad shoulders again.

  “Or you’re just not man enough to do it, Ya-Ameer.”

  I watched as the prince clenched his fists by his sides and I heard his breathing change. It didn’t escape my notice that those were the first words she’d said to him in English, and that when she said it–she didn’t mean only to insult him. No, she said it my language to humiliate him as well.

  It hurt me.

  “Please, Mother,” the prince said in a quiet voice. “It’s between me and my wife.”

  Wife.

  The word went straight to my heart and settled there after sending tingles all over my insides.

  “Huh,” the queen let out a sarcastic noise. “We’ll see about that,” she said, using my language again, and when the words made the fear inside my heart rise, I knew that that was exactly the purpose of it.

  A deadly glare of hers managed to reach my eyes from behind the prince’s shoulder when I peeked again, a promise of something I didn’t know and a warning filling it, so that I almost shivered just looking at her before she left.

  Janna’s promise of getting me out of here was the only thing that kept me from screaming my guts out. The queen was scary. I had a strong feeling she was up to no good, like she was planning something for me.

  My head kept going back to her words: ‘You and your brother are dead.’ It kept repeating itself in my head. Over and over again. Eating away at my soul with the fear it caused. I was terrified. And I blamed Joseph some more. I blamed him to the point that I didn’t know if I had any drop of love for him inside of my heart anymore. I blamed him to the point I started thinking that I was about to hate him. More than hate itself, at that.

  ‘You and your brother are dead.’

  ‘You and your brother are dead.’

  ‘You and your brother are dead.’

  I took a deep breath and wiped a tear with the back of my hand that was formed in a tight fist around the item inside of it. My eyes gazed away toward the window, not really able to see any of the magical sight of the gardens that I knew were down there from my spot on the bed. My heart wouldn’t stop thumping so fast and so loud in my ears, nor would my silent tears stop falling over my life that had turned upside down in the matter of a few short days.

  When the queen left us, the prince asked if I was okay, his voice low and full of so many feelings, and he wouldn’t look me in the eyes. Feelings that were all around sadness, sorrow and a hint of anger. Feelings that were dominated by that one feeling I hated to hear in his voice the most: humiliation.

  It made me really sad to hear that tone from him. Beyond sad. I didn’t want anything in that moment except to reach out and hug him, to try with the little I had of words of assurance or a caring embrace to soothe him and take the pain in his eyes away. But those very thoughts scared me even more than I already was, because I found myself caring for him and how he was feeling – more than I would ever like to admit. And that was scary.

  When I nodded my reply to him, he informed me that he would be in the sunroom for a while. I didn’t comment. He didn’t wait for me to reply, anyway. He just went to the closet to grab a shirt, then went to where he’d said he was going as fast as he could.

  ‘You and your brother are dead.’

  ‘I’ll get you out of here.’

  ‘You and your brother are dead.’

  ‘I’ll get you out of here.’

  ‘You and your brother are dead.’

  I clenched my fist tighter, and begged with my heart harder, while my heartbeats grew faster. I was going insane.

  “Where should I put it, Princess?’’ Mona asked after I allowed her in, a big tray full of food in her hands.

  “I don’t want to eat,” I replied, wiping away another round of silent tears with the back of my hand and moving my eyes back to gaze out the window from my spot on the bed.

  Mona stood there for a moment, and I wondered if she was going to say anything or was just going to leave, but she did neither. She just stood there. Eventually, she left the tray on the round table in the middle of the room and knocked on the mirror door before going inside and closing it behind her after the prince told her to ‘Come in.’ She was probably going to inform him that dinner was ready.

  When she didn’t come out after a few minutes, I figured that she’d used the other door in the sunroom that I’d yet to see.

  I heard the sunroom door being opened but I didn’t look back at it. I just stayed still in my almost-frozen state that I’d been in for hours that seemed like days.

  I felt the prince approaching before hearing him–don’t ask me how. I just did. I didn’t look. But then I felt the spot beside me on the bed sink down as the prince sat on it. I still didn’t look…for some reason. And then he spoke.

  “Mona says you don’t want to eat,” he said in a soft voice.

  “I don’t.” I said, still looking away.

  The prince sighed, then his right hand found my left one that was placed on my lap. He laced our fingers together and placed our joined hands on his knee and squeezed, his thumb tracing the back of mine in the softest of touches.

  I closed my eyes tightly and fought with my breaths to stay even, pressed on both of my lips that were pulled inside of my mouth where I bit hard on them. So many emotions inside of me were fighting against each other, that for a second I started getting worried that I’d soon pass out from all of the mixed feelings.

  I felt fingertips on my quivering chin and then a soft pull as the prince’s other hand turned my head in his direction, forcing me with the tenderness of the gentle touch to face him.

  I finally opened my eyes, freeing new tears when I blinked a few away, my gaze fixed on his. He removed his hand from my chin only to wipe the tears away. Then he pulled on my chin again, this time to release my lips from the trap of my teeth, rubbing once right under my bottom lip in a soothing touch, his eyes watching his thumb on my face for a second and looking me in the eyes the next.

  He smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. We didn’t talk. But we still said everything. Another tear escaped my eyes, and ‘I’m sorry’ escaped his lips right after it.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” I found myself telling him.

  “But my mother did, and I apologize on her behalf,” he said quietly.

  I shook my head and looked down at our tangled fingers, watching as his thumb continued its movements over my hand, accidentally forcing his hand on my face away and completely regretting looking down right away.

  “What did she want anyway? What brought her here? Uninvited! I thought she should’ve gotten our permission first! It’s not the second day anymore, right
?” I said when I looked up at his face once more.

  The prince sighed again. “I guess she wasn’t thinking; she was so mad that Janna wasn’t with her husband. People saw him walking around the palace and informed her. She really wasn’t happy with it, like you saw.”

  Joseph again …

  “Rules and traditions are really important to my mother; she doesn’t like it when things get off track.” His quiet voice was now closed with sadness, even more than before.

  “She shouldn’t have said that to you. It wasn’t nice,” I said, trying with what little assurance I had to let him know I wasn’t happy with what she’d told him, because it–truly–wasn’t fair.

  “It’s fine,” he said after a pause. “She’s always known when I was lying.” He shook his head.

  “Yeah?”

  He nodded.

  “She believed you eventually.”

  “Because I never say God’s name with a lie, ever. I’ve always been known for that; I never swear while lying, I never break a promise and I never cry.”

  Huh!

  “It’s the only thing that’s bothering me,” he huffed. “I hate that I lied with God’s name.”

  He wasn’t just saying it; pain was written all over his face. He really didn’t like what he had said.

  And he said it–he did it–for me…

  “But you didn’t lie with God’s name,” I whispered.

  “What?”

  “I– uh…I’m a virgin.” I looked down, blushing deeply.

  “Uh…what?”

  “You heard me.” He was embarrassing me more than I was already.

  “Oh, yes, I heard. Yes. It’s just–I mean…what?”

  “I’m a virgin, okay? Virgin. I’ve never had sex before!”

  “Wow!”

  “Why is it so hard to believe?”

  “Uh, it’s not…I just–I never thought you would be, even when your brother said you were.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because you’re so beautiful, you’re smart and intelligent, and you’re twenty-two. I read somewhere that most of Americans lose their virginity before the age of twenty, even without marriage.”