Girls of Riyadh

During the flight, Sadeem noticed Firas’s care in making sure that none of the flight attendants mistakenly offered her any alcohol or food with pork in it. He didn’t have any, either. But it surprised her that he was so concerned about what she did. She really enjoyed his solicitous attention. And being a Virgo (as Lamees had explained), she was bound to appreciate someone who cared about little details as much as she did.

“I’m sure you’ll find your mother leaping for joy that you’re coming home,” Sadeem said warmly.

“Yes, she would, but actually, she’s still in Paris with my sisters. Poor thing, she was so miserable the whole time I was away studying. She called me every day with the same questions: ‘Are you happy? Don’t you want to come home? Haven’t you had enough? Don’t you want to get married?’”

“Well, she has a point there. Don’t you want to get married?” Sadeem’s question was impulsive and her eyes were fixed on the gap between his two front teeth.

“Hey, this is the second beating—after that you’re too old remark—I’ve gotten in the space of a minute! Can’t a guy get a break? Am I really that old?”

“No, no, I didn’t mean that, please don’t misunderstand me! It’s just that, I mean, I’m not used to seeing a Saudi guy over thirty who isn’t married. Usually our boys start nagging their mothers to find them someone to marry even before they have the faintest shadow of a mustache!”

“I’m a little difficult, I guess. I have very specific qualifications that are hard to find in many girls these days. Frankly, it has been years since I gave my family my description of the girl I would want to be with. I told them, look around but take your time. But they still haven’t found me the right one. Anyway, I’m fine as I am, perfectly content, and I don’t feel like I’m missing anything.”

“So, can I hear what these impossible qualifications are, since no one can find anyone with them?”

“At your command. But before I forget, can I make a small request?”

She was studying his white teeth, deep in serious thought. It really was the cutest little gap. Would her little pinkie finger fit in it? “Sure.”

“Can I call you later? I’d like to hear your voice tonight before I go to sleep.”

20.

To: seerehwenfadha7et@yahoogroups.com

From: “seerehwenfadha7et”

Date: June 25, 2004

Subject: Return to Um Nuwayyir

One reader who says she has followed my e-mails from the beginning was extremely thrilled by the ending of my previous e-mail and sent me the following message: YAAAAAAAAAAAAY!! Finally! What we’ve been longing for! We were running out of patience waiting for this Firas to make a move! Alf mabrook, many congratulations to Sadeem!

How enchanting this give-and-take is! It compels me to forge ahead with this series of mine, this scandal-mongering, highly committed and seriously reform-minded series. Aren’t messages like this a thousand times nicer than the others I get every day telling me how liberal and how decadent I am?

Some say I speak of the faults of others but claim to be faultless myself by simply removing myself from the events told. No, I’m not making any such claim. I’m not pretending to be some kind of paragon of perfection, because I don’t consider the actions of my friends to be wrong or sinful in the first place!

I am every one of my friends, and my story is their story. And if I have refrained from revealing my identity at present for my own private reasons, I will reveal it someday when those reasons no longer exist. Then I will tell you my whole story, just as you want to hear it, with complete sincerity and transparency. As for now, let’s return to our darling Gammoorah.

All this time Gamrah had been anxiously pondering her unknown future. As Sadeem had done with Waleed, for many weeks Gamrah went on dreaming that Rashid would return to her or at least would make some attempt to contact her after coming to regret how awful he had been, and how terribly he had wronged her. But when that didn’t happen she began to worry about her future. Would she remain parked in her father’s house like an old piece of furniture in the back storeroom? Would she return to the university to finish her studies? Would the university administration even allow that, now that she was a whole year behind her classmates? Or should she sign up for one of the courses offered by private institutes and women’s associations to fill her free time and obtain some kind of certificate? It didn’t really matter what it was.

“Mama, I want some more limes with salt.”

“Too much lime isn’t good for you, my dear. You’ll get a tummy ache.”

“Ufff! I’m just asking for some lime and salt, for God’s sake! What if I was craving something really hard to get? Then what would you have done?”