by Aisha Saeed
“Enough!” Ali shouted.
In an instant, the square grew silent. The boy looked at both Ali and Jasmine. His eyes glistened with tears. Ali walked up to the boy and leaned down. Placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder, he studied him; his expression grew somber.
“The boy did something wrong,” Ali finally said, turning to address the crowd. “But it was a mistake.”
“Respectfully, Your Majesty,” the man said, “his stealing from the princess was no mistake.”
“Well, it is me he took from, and so this matter is between me and him,” Jasmine interjected.
“What’s your name?” Ali asked the boy.
“Jamaal,” the boy whispered.
“That’s a nice name,” he said. “It means beauty, doesn’t it?”
Jamaal shrugged. He looked down at the cookie on the ground, leaned down, and picked it up.
“It’s dirty now,” he said, turning it over in his hands. “I’m sorry I stole it. I didn’t think it was a coin purse. I knew it was a cookie, and I get hungry sometimes, and when I get hungry I don’t think much about what I’m doing. I just want to eat and I can’t think about much else. I don’t have any money. Or I’d buy you a new one, Princess.”
“Don’t worry about that,” she said. “Do you live around here?”
“Not far.”
“Let us walk you home,” Ali said. “Your parents must be worried about where you’ve run off to.”
“He doesn’t have parents,” Zaria said. “Died last year. That’s the tragedy of it all. Growing up on the streets means he gets by however he can.”
“Oh…” Ali’s voice trailed off.
“We’ve been generous.” The baker crossed his arms defensively. “We don’t let the boy go hungry. We give him food and mend his clothes if he’ll sit still long enough to let us. But we’ve got our own worries, too. And he doesn’t ask. He simply takes.”
“Maybe he could do better about asking,” Ali said. “But he’s just a boy. Weren’t you all little once? We could do worse than being patient with a child in need. Perhaps his actions are vexing, but compassion is what defines our humanity, doesn’t it?”
“You are right, Prince Ali,” the man said after a moment, sighing. He looked a bit abashed now. The crowd murmured to one another and then, the confrontation over, they began to disperse.
“Thank you for forgiving me,” Jamaal said. “I will repay you for the cookie. I promise I will try my best.”
“There’s no debt,” Jasmine said.
“That’s right,” Ali said. “Come with us.”
They walked over to the stall of treats and Ali paid the woman, letting the boy choose his favorites. Jamaal’s eyes widened as he took in the cat, puppy, and goldfish creations, but he barely looked them over before he ate them all.
“Easy there,” Ali laughed. “There’s more where those came from.”
They walked over to a corn stall and bought him buttered corn sprinkled with black peppers, and then a pita stuffed with cabbage, seasoned pickles, and roasted chicken. The boy devoured all of it.
Ali studied the boy as he finished off the last of a bag of candied almonds they’d purchased.
“I was thinking,” Ali said. “Why don’t you come back to the palace with me? I have plenty of extra bedrooms. You can pick whichever one you like.”
“No, thank you,” Jamaal said. His cheeks grew crimson. “What you’ve done for me is more than enough.”
“But you could work for me in exchange for room and board and all the food you can eat. What do you think?”
The boy studied the ground.
“Fine.” Ali reached into his satchel and pulled out a handful of gold coins. “Take some to tide you over while you think about it?”
Jamaal stared at the money and then at both Princess Jasmine and Ali. He snatched the money from Ali’s palm and hurried away.
“Wait!” Jasmine called out. But the boy didn’t stop. He rushed out of the square, turned the corner, and disappeared from view.
“No use chasing him,” Ali said quietly. “He won’t come with us if he doesn’t want to.”
“Even with that money, he needs some supervision and guidance. A child that young shouldn’t be on his own.” Jasmine shook her head. “We could at least try to find him. Surely people around here know where he lives.”
“It wouldn’t work. I know kids like him. They have a hard time trusting because they’ve been let down too many times. Even if we found him and took him to the palace, he’d find a way to escape. He probably knows the streets better than anyone else.” He looked at Jasmine. “What we need in Ababwa is a place for boys like him. It’s like you said earlier about free clinics for people who can’t afford it. Children like Jamaal should be protected by the kingdom they live in—they deserve a bed to sleep in and food to eat without having to rely on the kindness of strangers.”
“An orphanage.” She nodded. “No child should have to worry about their next meal.”
“Losing a parent is hard enough.”
Jasmine looked at Ali. He looked heartbroken by the boy’s plight.
She could do worse, she knew, than spending a lifetime with a person like Ali—who cared not just for her, but for all his people, including those who had the least.
THE SKY was ablaze with violet, pink, and navy blue streaks trailing above like a painted canvas. Aladdin felt a tinge of sadness. Soon the darkness would overtake all the light around them and coat the sky completely.
“It’s getting dark,” Jasmine observed. “Are you sure it’s not getting too late?”
“We still have some time to explore, if you’re okay with that.”
“More than okay.” Jasmine smiled.
Aladdin remembered the restaurant he’d asked Genie to re-create for him in Ababwa, his favorite hole-in-the-wall back in Agrabah. They couldn’t leave without trying it—it was one of the few things in this kingdom that contained a part of who he truly was.
“Care for a bite at one of my favorite dessert shops?” asked Aladdin. “There’s a great place I love that shouldn’t be too far from here.”
“If it’s a favorite of yours, how can I say no?”
“You won’t regret it,” he promised. “They make the best sweets and teas you’ve ever had.”
Had it not been for the familiar scent of Bilal’s sweet cheese pastries wafting through the shop window, Aladdin would never have been able to find the place. The version of the café that Genie had created for Ababwa was unrecognizable. Stepping inside, Aladdin took in the charming open-air restaurant with cushioned floor seating, low wooden tables, and glass lanterns hanging from the ceiling above. Aladdin tried to keep from laughing. He’d have to let Genie know next time he saw him that he’d done an incredible job indeed.
The store owner walked over and welcomed them. He looked like the same one from back in Agrabah, but instead of the grease- and flour-spattered apron and perpetual frown the man back home always wore, this Bilal had starched cream clothing and grinned from ear to ear. It was a most peculiar sight.
“Please sit anywhere you’d like,” the man said, gesturing to the tables. “Shall I bring the usual desserts along with a menu?”
“Sounds great.” Aladdin settled down across from Jasmine on a red cushioned seat by a large open window overlooking the street outside. Music wafted over to them now from somewhere in the distance.
“Oh, wow,” Jasmine said when the owner returned carrying an oversized wooden tray filled to the edges with small porcelain plates of food. There was indeed every plump pastry, chocolate, and kunafa Aladdin had ever seen at the original spot back home piled onto the tray, along with a pot of tea and Aladdin’s favorite lemon drink. Unlike in Agrabah, where the desserts were served on napkins and the teas and juices handed to customers in drab metal tins, here the tea was steeped in rose-pink pots with cups and saucers set before them. Aladdin’s tall, cool glass of lemonade was handed to him in a crystal glass.
&nbs
p; “There’s no way I can eat all of this,” Jasmine said, taking in the feast before them.
“We can give it our best shot?” Aladdin grinned.
Jasmine ate a forkful of honey-glazed pastry. “Now this is what I call dessert.”
A group of children danced past them just outside the shop. The eldest of the bunch beat drums, and the rest skipped along the walkway. They didn’t notice Jasmine and Aladdin watching, immersed as they were in one another and the music. The kids were truly and fully happy. And right now, sitting across from Jasmine, that was how Aladdin felt, too. Ababwa was not perfect, that much was certain—what with that man who’d come to see him in tattered clothing, and Jamaal, who wandered the streets alone—but at least here Aladdin could do something about what was wrong instead of simply simmering at the injustice of it all. If there was a problem in Ababwa, he could fix it. Maybe the land wasn’t technically real, but did that matter? It was real right now.
And then there was Jasmine. He gazed at her now. She was kind, warm, wise, and fiercely intelligent. And even if she didn’t love surprises, she loved exploring and adventures just as he did. He glanced down at her hand, resting just inches from his own, and clasped his hand over hers. The warmth sent a shot of lightning to his heart. There was no denying that Jasmine was absolutely perfect for him, and it didn’t matter if he’d known her for a few minutes or for a lifetime. He realized in this moment…that he loved her.
And there was also no denying that she was a princess. And once they left Ababwa, he would no longer have a kingdom.
Heaviness settled over his heart as the sky turned darker outside. Their time here was nearing its end.
But did it have to?
Maybe, just maybe, she’d take a chance on him. On them. He’d joked about it earlier, but maybe he could tell her now exactly how he felt—and ask her to stay with him here. After all, Ababwa would remain the kingdom it appeared to be so long as they both stayed. All he had to do was figure out a way to bring Abu here, and to get Raja for Jasmine, and everything would be all set. He was about to say just this when Jasmine spoke.
“I can’t stop thinking about that poor boy,” Jasmine said. “Can you imagine what it’s like to not only lose your parents but also have no one at all to watch out for you?”
So there it was. Aladdin’s throat tightened. He didn’t need to imagine how Jamaal felt, because he was that boy. Sure, Genie had given Jamaal green eyes instead of Aladdin’s dark brown, but Aladdin recognized himself in the boy all the same.
And he couldn’t tell Jasmine.
As honest as she was with him, he couldn’t be honest with her. Not fully.
“How are you finding everything?” The shop owner approached them now. His hands were clasped in front of him.
“Fantastic,” Jasmine told him. “The honey-glazed pastry was my favorite.”
“I can prepare another for you if you’d like.”
“Oh.” Jasmine glanced at Aladdin. “I probably shouldn’t….”
“Well, it’s not every day you come to Ababwa, is it?” the shop owner insisted.
Jasmine thanked the man and Aladdin watched the chipper shop owner head back toward the kitchen. Just then, he caught sight of another man inside the shop. And the glint of a bag, fluttering in the air. The man hurried out of the restaurant. Where had he come from? Aladdin wondered. But then his blood went cold as he took a closer look at the satchel the man gripped in his hands. The gray cloth. The gold string. It was the same one filled with coins—and, more importantly, the lamp—that Aladdin had worn at his waist.
“Hey!” Aladdin jumped up in an instant.
“What’s wrong?” Jasmine asked.
But Aladdin had already leapt out of the open window, giving full chase.
“Stop!” Aladdin shouted after the man.
But the man hurried on at a quick pace. Aladdin ran as fast as he could until he caught up. He yanked the man roughly by the arm. If the man had the lamp, all of this—Ababwa, Ali—could be undone in a matter of seconds.
“Get your hands off of me!” the man yelled before turning around. But once he saw who it was, his hands dropped to his sides and his face grew pale. “Prince Ali!” he cried. He was a short man; a bit of gray peppered his hair and beard. “I apologize for my rudeness. I did not realize it was you. What can I do for you, Your Majesty?”
“Are you honestly going to pretend you didn’t just steal from me?”
“Steal from you?” the man gasped. “Never, sir!”
“How can you say that so confidently?” Aladdin stared at the man. “You’re holding my satchel in your hands right now and lying?”
The man stared at the satchel and yelped. It fell to the ground.
“I don’t understand it.” Aladdin picked up the satchel. “To take from me like this?”
“I am so sorry.” The man’s voice trembled. “Please forgive me.”
“You could have simply asked me if you needed money,” Aladdin continued. Jasmine had caught up to them now. “I would have helped you….” His voice trailed off when he opened the satchel. He ran his hand through it to be sure. There was no lamp, no gold coins in the satchel. Instead he pulled out work tools. Screws, nails, a small hammer.
“But this makes no sense,” Aladdin murmured. He looked down at his waist…and saw that his satchel was tied exactly as it had been.
Glancing around now, he saw that many of the men walking past wore similar satchels with the same gold ties. How could he not have noticed that before?
“I’m so sorry,” the man repeated. “I was fixing the furnace of Bilal’s restaurant. It’s always breaking down for one reason or other, as you know, and I’m the only one who knows how to get it work just right. I was rushing out the door to get back to my wife; I’m late for a wedding. I’d lost track of time. So I ran. But that’s no excuse. Forgive me for taking what belonged to you.”
“Forgive you?” Aladdin’s head throbbed. Why did this man not defend himself? Why did he accept the blame when he wasn’t at fault? He handed the man back his satchel. “This satchel doesn’t belong to me. I was mistaken. I should apologize to you. I hope you will forgive me.”
The man shrank from the satchel Aladdin proffered. “It’s yours, Prince.”
“No,” Aladdin said. “It’s not.” He placed the satchel back in the man’s hands. “I don’t understand. You only had to tell me what was in the bag. That you hadn’t stolen it.”
“And contradict the prince of Ababwa?” The man’s voice sounded incredulous. “I would never do such a thing. I am forever indebted to you for all you have done for our kingdom. The battle of Amad? The way you strategically sent in forces to save our homes from destruction? And who could ever forget the hunger years? The way you gave to your kingdom of your own belongings, distributing fairly so not a soul went hungry? You have saved our lives and our livelihoods countless times from destruction and peril. This entire kingdom, including myself, is indebted to you.”
But I haven’t done any of those things, Aladdin thought. He watched the man retreat into the distance, still uttering words of apology.
For the first time since they’d arrived in Ababwa, the reality of this kingdom finally settled in to him.
This kingdom.
It didn’t exist.
It was fabricated.
All the conquests this man loved him for had never happened. All these people who adored him and had lined the streets upon their arrival…what had he actually done to deserve their affection?
Nothing.
“It’s okay.” He felt the soft touch of a hand on his arm. Jasmine looked at him, her expression filled with concern.
“I humiliated a man old enough to be my father,” Aladdin said. “All because I assumed he was stealing from me. I didn’t even pause to think it through.”
“You acted on instinct. You didn’t know.”
“That was awful.”
“It wasn’t your greatest moment,” Jasmine conceded
. “But mistakes are part of being human. History is full of kings and princes and viziers who make mistakes but never own up to them. You apologized to the man. You took responsibility. He knows your heart, and he knows all you’ve done for this kingdom. You’ve been a good leader for your kingdom, and he respected that.”
But I haven’t been a good leader, Aladdin thought. I am no leader at all. He could still see the look of fear in that man’s eyes. He knew that look. How many times had he been on the other end of such a false accusation? He knew the way it twisted at your heart like stalks of poison and how it eventually made you question your own worth.
Jasmine could tell him that he shouldn’t feel too bad, but it was only because she didn’t know the truth. She thought the man’s stories were true and that Aladdin had done all the great feats that the man spoke of with admiration. She did not know that none of these people truly loved him, because none of them was real.
The one thing Aladdin wanted more than anything was to be somebody worthwhile, but this wasn’t the way to do it. He looked at Jasmine, her arms crossed, watching him with a worried expression. Unlike himself, the princess who stood before him was the real deal. A leader who had spent her life studying and training and doing everything she could, even with her restrictive circumstances, to be someone who could lead someday.
And she deserved to lead real people whose lives she could truly and genuinely impact. As for Aladdin? He knew he wanted to be worthy of her admiration and respect, but he wanted to earn her love by being the man she thought he was.
And how could he do that in a kingdom built on a lie?
JASMINE AND ALI walked toward the palace down the cobblestoned street. The sun was all but gone now; street lanterns along the way lent a colorful glow to the city. Neither of them said it aloud just yet, but they both knew it was about time to leave.
She glanced over at Ali. Ever since the misunderstanding with the mechanic from the restaurant, he’d grown quieter. She could see by his expression how the guilt still clawed away at him. Jasmine wished she could say something to ease his conscience, but she also knew that as much as she might like to help him feel better, this was probably something he’d need to wrestle with on his own. She still couldn’t get over how nimbly he’d leapt out the window to run after the man—those were instincts she’d seen once before. The similarities continued to gnaw at her. Was she trying to force a connection between Ali and Aladdin that wasn’t there? Or was there something to her suspicions?
