Not because of its three-course menu items, but because each printed card featured at a minimum one half-undressed image of a saucy woman, designed to initiate jeers and cheers.
At first, I didn’t understand why I felt so invisible around the men. Then it occurred to me it was because of how I looked. I was both grateful and offended, but after several interactions and a full day of this treatment with no reprieve, it had begun to take a toll.
I felt offended on behalf of all women.
When they told me there would be no “choices” on the menus, and certainly no vegetarian options, I nearly lost it.
I started to cry, I looked away, and refused Tim any interaction. This was insufferable. I was angry at the Catacombs for making me ugly. I was angry with him for not noticing what I was experiencing. And I was angry with these asshole crew members who almost entirely treated me like an invisible object.
I had taken a women’s studies class in college and knew the value of physical currency, but I had never experienced the absence of it firsthand. Now, in this disguise, I was reduced to nothing without my looks. My voice didn’t matter, my innate force and strength didn’t matter, my education and wealth or family station didn’t matter, and, worst of all, my right to exist didn’t matter. I was the most expendable person on the ship.
If I wasn’t hot enough to them then I wasn’t anything.
So, I was angry.
Eventually, Tim led me back to the room. The ugly room, with its cheap furnishings, it’s thrift store decorations, and floors that I was certain were covered in unseen dirt and long-ago expelled bodily fluids.
I laid down and cried.
He asked me what was wrong and I couldn’t tell him. He offered to leave me alone and I felt abandoned. Nothing he said or did assuaged the intensity of what I was feeling. How could he understand? He’s male!
Chapter 4
I sat on the bed next to her and said, “Perri, tell me what's really going on.”
She cut her eyes at me and said, “It's Abda, remember? We have to stay in character … the Catacombs, remember?” She looked at me pointedly, as if I was simple, willing me to understand and get it right, but her tone also carried an edge of sarcasm and taunt.
She rolled her eyes when I didn’t respond, then stood up and turned away to walk across the room. She flung open the curtains to stare out the window only to cross her arms in a huffed expression when she realized that she could only stare at cargo containers. She slammed the curtain closed again and sat down heavily on the nearest chair. Then she leaned forward and put her face in her hands as she wept.
I came over and squatted down in front of her, placed my hands on the outside of her thighs, and said, “Abda, please, tell me what's going on. I've got you. We've got this.”
Her sobs muffled her reply, “You haven't seen the way they treat me. You haven't seen the way that they don't see me. It's as if I'm invisible. It's as if I don't matter. It's as if I am- as if I'm- as if I’m not here.” Her voice trembled. She lowered her hands to look at me, beseechingly, with tear-drenched, matted eyelashes. “I don't know if it's a boys’ club. I don't know- I don't know what it is- except that it's so painful. And I feel ugly. And I feel lost. And in this room with these awful walls and all these awful clothes make it all worse.” Her energy ramped up again and a desperate quality wove into it.
“Are we to live like this forever? Are we to live like rats in a cave? Are we to live like this because of the choice I made? Are we forced into hiding like this because of my father? Why can't I just stand up to him? Why can't he just understand?” Fresh tears sprang from her eyes and dropped onto her lap. “Tim, I just have so many questions and no answers.” She truly was lost.
I stood up, reached under her knees, and behind her back to scoop her up into my arms and then turned around and sat down with her on my lap. I cradled her against my chest, and said, “This is not an easy adjustment. Everything you know, everything you're comfortable with, everything you are has been left behind and you are forced into this insane costume. Just look at me. I’m a bucktooth balding man with a pouch belly for chrissakes.”
She nodded her head against my chest as she wiped her nose and chuckled. “I'm serious,” I added my chuckle to hers.
“We can demand that we ditch these disguises and transform them to something more acceptable; something that will make it easier for us to move through the world. It's hard enough as it is, we don't need this too. How about that?” I asked, kissing her on the head gently.
She nodded and threw her arms around my neck and squeezed. “Yes, please.”
“Okay, we have a plan then. Just a little while longer. Let's wait until we get to Singapore then we can make the change there. I'll send a note to Taylor to let him know and we can figure it out. Taylor will make sure that there’s someone waiting to take care of us.
“Then we're going to eat delicious five-star street food and we're going to see some sites and we're going to be tourists for the first time in our lives.” She moved to look at me, her face opening to the ideas I was presenting. “We’ll have no demands, no one pressing in, no responsibilities. No places we have to be. We will just do what we want.” The corners of a smile started to peek out.
“We can lay on the beach; we can skydive; we can do whatever you want.” She smiled then and settled into my arms a little deeper appearing to look inward and imagine the possibilities.
I kissed her forehead and added, “Do you know that no matter what disguise you have, even if you are old and grey, I’ll be right here. Pulling you into my lap, kissing your forehead, and wanting to have sex with you.”
She giggled and said, “I'm never going to be old and grey.”
I laughed, happy that she was taking it all in. “It doesn't matter. Whether you are going to be hidden or not, I still see you and I still want you. You will never lose my desire for you.”
Quietly, no more words between us needed, she slipped her hand inside mine and laid her head against me.
Chapter 5
Later that day, after Abda was settled and napping in the soldier’s crawl position that was recommended to reduce her nausea, I decided to head out for a walk. I needed to clear my head and my heart was troubled by the things that she said about herself. The last message she had said she felt, about it seeming as if she was not here, had echoed back to times with my mother, after my father left. Back when divorce was more of a capital “D” and a sweeping social curse.
I made my way to the bridge, and keyed in the code the captain had given me so that I had 24/7 access. I asked one of the crewmen if they had satellite internet access that I could use. He said they did but it needed to be scheduled at least a day in advance. I nodded and had him sign me up for the next day.
As I walked out I looked out over the water and watched the ebb and flow of the waves that crested, dipping the bow of the ship down and then up and then down and up again and again, causing all the deck rolls from front to back that required see-sawing steady steps to navigate.
I moved down one level to the ship’s deck and then forward until almost the bow of the ship, tucked out of sight behind stacks of containers.
When I reached my favorite private spot on the deck, I stopped and looked out over the dark, turbulent sea. I remembered how distraught my mother had been, how difficult it felt to want to help her and not know how. How being so young, especially watching a woman I loved in such pain, made me feel so powerless.
I knew that I was going to have to talk to Abda about it. God, I loved her new name. I liked Perri, which had been short for Paradise, which was the definition of her birth name, Jannah. But Abda, while meaning slave or servant in almost all languages, also meant extraordinary, original, and beautiful in Urdu. My Abda was most definitely those things.
Abda was complex and heady for me. An amalgamation of tenderness, vulnerability, strength, sass, smarts, and even fears. Fears that were hidden behind more confidence than I had ever see
n in a woman.
I thought about the danger we had faced together and the danger that was likely still ahead for us. How can I save her? How can I help her become who she needs to be to survive all this with grace?
I watched, shocked, as a seagull landed on the railing not much more than an arm’s length away from me. I wondered how many thousands of miles we were from shore and how long their flight had been. One of the crew had told me they were one of very few birds who could drink seawater, so they often used the ship for a stopping spot on their transoceanic journeys.
Careful not to frighten him away, I stayed very still and turned only my head to see him. He in turn moved his head and looked me in the eye. I wondered what message he might have for me. Then I remembered the story of Jonathan Livingston Seagull. He had found a way to be who he needed to be.
Suddenly, I had faith that Abda would too.
I took a deep breath, inhaled the salty air, nodded at my companion, and he flew away.
Message received.
Chapter 6
When I got back to the cabin Abda was awake, had showered, and looked slightly better. She came out for a hug and I embraced her, grateful that she was with me and we were on this journey together.
She wanted to go for a walk so I smiled and 20 minutes later she was ready to go. We headed to the back deck, which had a secret outdoor lounge tucked between rows of containers that apparently some of the crew used during their off time. It was an area where there always seemed to be a perfect breeze. It also had a slight view of the ocean. It felt safe and hidden from the outside world.
I pulled her hand into mine and then up to my lips for a kiss after we settled into two chairs situated near each other.
“I want to tell you a little story about my life,” I said.
Her face registered surprise because I never spoke of my past and, in truth, I had never told a woman any of my stories. I'd never let any of them in enough.
I began to tell her about how my mother had been in a car wreck shortly after she had been diagnosed with skin cancer.
“Skin cancer was on her cheek from years of sunbathing as a child, and the car wreck, likely due to her distraught state of mind, knocked out several of her front teeth on the same side as her devastating facial cancer.”
Abda curled her feet up under her as I continued.
“She and my dad were having difficulty for a long time before that. He’d had an affair, and said it was because she had put on weight.”
Abda flinched, now more acutely aware of how troubling and harmful judgments of your physical self were.
“He'd had a heart attack. While he was in the hospital, he met a nurse who had never struggled with her weight and cared for him in ways he said my mother had never been willing to do. The combination was devastating for my mum.
“She had her cancer removal surgery, which cost her a large portion of cheek. At the time dental implants were not yet available, and the bridge they created looked terribly fake.
“Before my dad moved out of our home, the nurse came to see my mother at her place of work. She told my mother to leave my dad alone, that he was her man now, and she was going to get him and keep him.”
Abda gasped. I nodded and continued. The emotion of the memories choked me.
“As you could imagine, my mother was humiliated. She swore that would never happen, but within a week it did.
“My parents divorced shortly afterward, which was devastating and fed into the disaster spiral she was in.
“My dad and the nurse had children later, while ignoring my existence and our welfare completely. They became wealthy and purchased an enormous ranch while we lived off public assistance, which only made it all that much worse. It all took a toll.
“She said no one saw her anymore after her disfigurement. Before that she’d been a young beauty. Men would actually exit the elevator to make space for her. They would press themselves against each other if she was at the back of the car when it was time for her to get off at her floor. They never lost sight of her or where she was.
“But after all those terrible things happened, she lost her spark. Men forgot she was on the elevator or didn't see her at all. They never gave up their seats to her on a train after that. She said it took her a long time to move out of her emotional reaction to those experiences.
“She felt like all her beauty had been stripped away; that she was now forced to wear a scarlet letter. A symbol of public shame and debasement that made her unworthy of being seen.
“But what had really happened, she recalled to me later, was that everything superficial had been removed so that she could see beneath it. She found that she didn't particularly like the superficial things she lost.
“She wanted a life of love and respect and she wanted to move through the world as the hero of her own story. But she was born into a society that didn't give her that role and she did not have role models who could teach her how to find it or take it.”
“Yes, I understand this.” Abda said tensely. I nodded, knowing all too well the similarities.
“So, one day about four or five years after he had left, she realized that she had gained even more weight and become even more unattractive to herself, and she wanted to change that. She knew that the only way to become the hero of her story was to determine who the villains were inside of herself. To discover what parts of herself were acting against her best interests. To know the parts of her that were actively sabotaging her healthy choices. Or, at least those that distracted her from making better ones.
“She said that for every moment she regretted the way she looked she lost a moment where she could have stood up and said. ‘I'm beautiful and I’m powerful. This is the best me I have.’ And when she started doing that, she became more beautiful and she became more powerful; her demons diminished.”
I turned to look at her and smiled, proud that my mother had discovered and created for herself something most women never get to experience. Abda smiled back at me, proud too.
“She said it was the most riveting experience of her life.”
Abda nodded. “She was so brave!”
“Yes, she was. I saw a broken, damaged woman become the powerhouse she had always wanted to be after that experience. She said that she never would have achieved that without losing her looks and without losing the status that she had become attached to.
“You, Abda, have a moment in time where you get to learn the same things without the same costs. At any moment you can step back into your old life and regain your wealth. You can regain your status. You could even go back to your father and be welcomed back into the fold to retake your position in the family.
“You can also take off your disguise today and stand up to be the beauty you are, and all of these boys would sit down in awe and regret the day they ever overlooked you.
“Difficult as all this may be, you’re not stuck in a cancer-ridden body with missing teeth. You are not branded as the woman not chosen; a woman left behind. You are very much wanted. And the danger we are in is because of how much you are wanted.
“I understand that there are elements within that which are unhealthy. An objectification that diminishes your voice. Property status, all of that.
“But I know your father, and even though his vision is clouded and he’s not able to see clearly right now what he is doing, he loves you. Your mother loves you. Your siblings love you. I know this because I know the goodness that they are.
“I would bet that your mother is distraught, but I also bet that she knows that you’re safe because you are with me. “
I grinned. “She always had a soft spot for me.”
“Tell me about my mother. I do not know her in the way that you do.” Abda beamed and leaned in, eager to hear more.
My face lit up and I felt the expansiveness of my grin as I looked beyond her to the water.
“She is amazing. She is likely the single most powerful woman I have ever met. She keeps y
our father in check and, in turn, keeps the country in check. She plants seeds in his brain and challenges his thoughts and heart in ways that open doors for women younger than you and older than herself.”
I leaned in and lowered my voice. “I believe she will single-handedly ensure that women in your country get to drive at some point. She will ensure that women get to choose whether they will wear hijabs. She has already helped women believe that they are of value, and that they are not destined to be chattel. Abda, hear me on this. You did not choose your path in spite of her, you chose your path because of her.
“She instilled in you, whether by slight or by might, the will to fight and the will to choose, and that's all any of us ever need.
I paused, looking at her gravely. “How do you want the Catacombs to go for you? This is your journey; this is your moment to decide how your life will go. You get to choose. Do you want to be at odds with it? Do you want to embrace it? Do you want to leave? You get to walk about more invisibly than you ever have before and learn things that you've never had access to.
“You get to have conversations with people that don't see you. You've never had that before. You get to understand how women who are marginalized experience the world. You get to gather intelligence that will make you a better Queen. This is not a time of loss for you; it's a time of research and pulling in an increased awareness. It's a time for you to learn self-love without the trappings that you thought made you worthy of love.
“You get to choose.”
Chapter 7
Just then I heard crew members running down the deck and yelling what sounded like instructions at each other in unfamiliar languages. One of them must have ran past the sightline Tim had, as evidenced by the look on his face and the heightened alert of his body. I turned to see what he saw but it had already passed by. I only saw the water.
“Abda, I need to see what’s going on. Quickly, come with me.” He grabbed my hand and we rose and dashed off between the container isles.
The Obsessed Billionaire: Boxed Set (Complete Vols. 1-5, A Billionaire Romance Series) Page 12
