Shan: Muscat isn’t that big, so I guess I better dress quickly.
Abdulla: Dress comfortably for Iftar.
Shan: This isn’t my first rodeo. I know how to attire myself for a big event. See you shortly.
Fifteen quick minutes later, Shan was opening the door for Abdulla. He was dressed traditionally with his embroidered kumma atop his recently barbered head. He leaned toward her and kissed both cheeks. He smelled expensive.
“Shan, you look lovely and smell like a rose,” he complimented her.
“Thank you Abdulla. You are looking better than good yourself. Now, let’s get you to some food. How has your day been?” she asked.
“Busy,” was his response as he admired her backside when she turned to lock the door.
“Is it okay that I’m not in an abaya?” she inquired as they walked to his car.
“Of course, your skirt is very colorful. I like it. I hope you won’t be overly warm.”
“The shirt is thin; I’m wearing it just to cover my arms because I wasn’t sure where we would be breaking your fast.”
“We are going to a local restaurant. They have the most wonderful lamb and goat. Their rice is great and full of raisins. The owner’s wife also makes the best tea I’ve had in my entire life. She is from South Africa. They married when he was fresh from University, traveling the world. He visited South Africa and took her with him when he left. To this day she says her parents are confused about how they let that foreign man run off with their only daughter.”
Laughing, Shan said, “I bet they are! I know firsthand how difficult it is to say no to some men. They just keep rephrasing the question until they get the answer they want.”
Abdulla grinned at her with those pretty lips and said, “No is just a jumping off point. We all know you really want to say yes. It is our job to make the right request.”
Raising her eyebrows, Shan looked at him and asked, “Oh? So, next time I need to tell you no, I’ll just tell you to rephrase the question.”
“Oh, you aren’t going to get in the habit of telling me no. Once I get to know you, I will know exactly how to get you to say yes, to everything.”
“My. Someone ate their Wheaties this morning. Your confidence is super high,” she commented drily.
“My confidence is always super high and I’ve been fasting since first prayer, so no, it is not the Wheaties.”
Shan couldn’t help herself. She burst out laughing. Not even a cute laugh, but an undignified, loud guffaw. She leaned against the door and turned toward her date.
“You are going to be fun, aren’t you?” she asked once she had her laughter under control.
“Oh, I certainly hope you think so. A happy woman makes for a happy circumstance,” Abdulla stated.
The rest of the ride passed in pleasant conversation. He asked a lot of questions. He wanted to know as much as possible. Shan was relaxed and didn’t mind, so she answered them. She shared that she was from a mid-size city in Texas, called Longview. She talked about her years in college at Rice University in Houston. She shared about her deceased father and when she spoke of her mother, Abdulla could tell they were close. He asked what brought her to Oman. For the first time, she hesitated before she answered the question. This made him more curious but he didn’t rush her answer.
“My marriage ended. I needed some space from the memories so I left. I’ve taught in Korea, Japan, and Dubai. Oman is my favorite place, so far. I think I might stay here for a while,” she said while he listened intently.
There was a moment of silence that threatened to become too long to be described as comfortable when he said, “My wife was taken from me in a car accident. I understand the need to put distance between yourself and memories. I sold the house we lived in because I thought I could smell her perfume and it was too much for me.”
Shan was stunned to hear he was a widower. How hurtful and shocking it must have been to have lived through such an event as a young husband. She reached for his hand and said, “I’m sorry for your loss,” with utter sincerity.
Bringing her hand upward he pressed it to his lips for a brief, warm kiss and said, “Thank you.”
Shan’s tummy tightened when those beautiful, perfect lips touched her skin and she gripped his hand a little tighter before releasing him. They arrived at the restaurant, at the end of a long parking lot. There was an enormous tent in the grassy median where people could be seen coming and going. The Ramadan tent had a variety of uses. Some were for the needy, where they could be fed and refreshed for Iftar. Others were themed and varied from gaming to shisha to sweets tents. This particular tent was for people arriving to the various restaurants in this shopping center. This allowed fasters to immediately put a little something on their belly before going in and placing an order. They entered and were immediately offered tea and dates. There were pillows and carpets spread about where you could sit and relax, but Abdulla was too hungry to sit eating dates. They accepted the dates, drank their tea standing and chatting with other fasters and their friends before heading over to the eatery.
Abdulla loved how relaxed Shan seemed to be. She did not seem uncomfortable at the Ramadan tent, made friends with complete strangers easily and made sure to replenish his dates while he was talking, simply saying, “I know you haven’t eaten all day.”
Also, the scent of roses that lingered around her was driving him to distraction.
Chapter Four
Abdulla entered with Shan and was immediately greeted with hails of “Salaam Alaikum” from the proprietor, Hamad. After a hearty greeting and inquiries about family, Abdulla introduced Hamad to Shan. The Omani are quite cosmopolitan, so it was not odd for Hamad to shake Shan’s hand, which he did when introduced.
“Abood, I fear you have been keeping secrets from your old friend,” teased Hamad.
“No secrets, just a new friend, brother and I brought her here as fast as I could,” was Abdulla’s response.
“Secrets? Are you a secret keeper, Abood?” asked Shan.
“Come, break your fast Abood and you as well, Shan. Have you been fasting today?” Hamad inquired, poorly hiding his curiosity about Shan’s background.
“No, I’m not fasting Hamad, but I haven’t eaten since I deplaned, all I’ve had other than a beverage is a nap. So, I’m starving. Feed us. Please,” she told him with a smile.
Abdulla knew there was something to the question Shan had asked him. As they were seated on the carpet and leaning against the cushions drinking freshly squeezed juice that had seemingly manifested out of thin air, he answered her.
“No, I’m not a secret keeper. I will always answer every question you ask me. I may not answer completely, but I will always be truthful,” he told her, maintaining eye contact and a serious expression. He could feel this mattered to her.
“I wasn’t accusing you, just asking,” was her only response.
“Women don’t ask any question without a very good reason. I just want to be clear that you understand me. You may not always like it, but you will get answers for any question you ask. Be prepared for the truth. It can sometimes surprise you,” he added the last sentence almost as an afterthought.
Shan’s laugh was a little forced. “Yeah, I know all about surprising truths.”
“Tell me who hurt you,” Abdulla demanded in a soft voice.
“What?” Shan asked, incredulous.
“Nobody hurt me,” she insisted.
“Someone did hurt you because that last laugh sounded painful and a little sad. Who surprised you with an unpleasant truth?” he coaxed.
Shan felt irritated. How could this possibly be first date conversation? She wasn’t interested in spilling out a decade old embarrassment and certainly not to a cutie like this one. That’s why she left home. She never wanted to discuss that crappy episode again.
So, she did what she always did and changed the subject.
“How do you know Hamad?” she asked. “The two of you have a very familiar
relationship. He is teasing you about a date, making nosy inquiries as to my religious affiliation and serving you like an honored guest. There is deep affection there. Tell me about that.”
Eyeballing her to let her know he wasn’t fooled and wouldn’t be deterred, Abdulla leaned forward and said, “Hamad and I played together as boys. He is older than me, but he used to let me play on his team whenever we would all get together on the park grounds to play fútbol. He had a powerful leg and I had fast ones.”
“Now, answer me. What happened to your heart to make you sound sad when speaking of surprising truths? Tell me now so I can avoid ever doing such a thing.”
Shan knew there was no point in trying to avoid the question. Thankfully, she didn’t have to. Hamad’s serving team chose that moment to arrive with multiple platters of food bearing rice, bread, goat, lamb and shwarma.
Without further ado, they both fell upon the delicious smelling food. Thirty minutes later, they were relaxing after round one and sipping tea. Shan was feeling quite satisfied and thinking she would definitely be coming back with her friends. Abdulla was simply waiting for her to answer his question.
“Shan. Tell me.”
Giving him a less than friendly look, she sighed. Then, sighed again, to make sure he understood how put upon she felt.
“For the record, this date started off so promising. I would like to enjoy this. I don’t want to discuss something painful from years ago. I don’t want any old hurts intruding on something fresh. I think you could be a lot of fun for a little while. Can you agree to table the question for at least three dates? I will answer it then, if we see a fourth date. We may not find ourselves to be all that great of a match. If that happens, there will have been no need for me to rehash a difficult time I had when I was younger.”
“I can do that, Shan. But, I do want to know about the root of the sadness I heard in your voice. So, consider the question tabled; for the next three dates at least,” he agreed.
Then, with a grin, “So, you are enjoying this night and thinking three nights ahead? This is very good. It means you like me a little. Am I right?”
Laughing, she leaned forward and said, “No, Abood, I like you more than a little.”
Chapter Five
Dinner had been a time of laughing, talking and teasing. Shan wondered why she had been so quick to refuse him when they first met. No sooner had she wondered to herself when he asked her, “Why did you tell me no when I asked for your number? I almost missed out on you.”
Sighing, sipping yet another wonderful cup of chai tea, she decided to be honest. “You know, I really don’t know. I think the first reason is because you are related to Lari’s husband. I didn’t want there to be awkwardness if we should meet each other over the years. She and I have known each other a long time. I plan to continue our friendship. Having a fling with her husband’s cousin would possibly put her in the position of not being able to invite me to milestone events, like baby showers. Secondly, you seemed like a flirt. I don’t really date men that I see as overly flirty.”
“Flirt? What is this word?” asked Abdulla.
“It means talking and teasing with a man or woman hoping to get to know them better. It is a way to show you are interested in a romantic relationship.”
“You said no because I was showing interest in you?”
“No, because I felt like you might do that with a lot of women or that you weren’t really interested, but were just being nice since I was there and friends with Lari,” she explained.
“Now do you know I only want to talk with you?”
“Yes, Abood,” she agreed with a smile.
“Where are we going next?” she quizzed, as she watched him leave money for the meal. “Or is the night over? I know you have to work tomorrow.”
“I must take you home. During Ramadan, I need to get to bed and sleep well so I can wake up early enough to eat before Fajr. But, tomorrow we should go to the wadi and count stars after Iftar.”
Smiling her agreement, Shan followed Abdulla to the car.
Chapter Six
Abdulla and Shan sat in his car talking for an additional twenty minutes before she managed to take note of how long they had been sitting.
“Abdulla, I must go inside, I fear the teacher grapevine will be abuzz with the news of Miss Shan sitting in the car with a man no one knows.”
“I will walk you to your door.”
Walking side by side, slowly, neither in a hurry for the night to end, Shan and Abdulla confirmed their plans for tomorrow. Once they reached the door, Abdulla asked, “Is it fine if I call you during the day?”
“It is. I doubt I will sleep much tonight, my internal clock is in disarray; so if I don’t answer, don’t be offended. I will call you back,” Shan assured him.
Finally, they were standing at the door. Shan had put the key in and was leaning against the frame, one hand on the knob. Just looking at each other, silently, exploring one another’s faces. Acknowledging to themselves and one another; this felt different than either expected. Shan knew there would be no public kissing, but the way his eyes lingered over her features; her eyes, her hair, the skin on her neck, she felt kissed. She felt touched. His cologne invaded her every inhalation, surrounding her, making her want to lean in, just a bit. Abdulla could feel her eyes on his lips, his jaw, and his neck. It wasn’t awkward. It was curious and warm. She looked like she was wondering what he tasted like. He was wondering the exact same thing about her. The scent of roses continued to tease, at times faint and when she was close to him, as she was now; the air between them was fragrant.
Feeling as if they had been staring at one another for eons, it had in fact only been two long seeming minutes; they both stepped back at the same time. Abdulla stepped toward the entryway of the cluster of villas and Shan twisted her door open and stepped inside.
“Good night Abdulla,” she said in a low voice she didn’t recognize as her own.
“Good night, habbibti. Close your door; I will know you are safely inside,” he responded.
Still looking at him, she closed the door, slowly. Once inside, Shan leaned against the door and promptly slid to the floor. Her heart was beating rapidly. Pressing her fingers to her collarbone, as if to clutch a strand of pearls she said aloud, “That man packs a punch. I thought it was his lips, but those eyes are going to get me in trouble!”
Abdulla drove too fast on the way home. He was trying to displace all that energy Shan had called out of him. Abdulla knew passion. He remembered it with longing when he allowed himself to think of his first marriage. This, though, wasn’t passion sweetly remembered. It was fresh, hot with promise and in the present.
Shan was too keyed up to consider going to bed. The super nap she had taken earlier had her feeling wide awake. It wasn’t even ten o’clock. She had no idea what she would do with all this time and energy. She considered watching some Netflix and killing time that way, but wasn’t in the mood for searching out a film or television show.
It occurred to her she should check out ideas online for stargazing. She hadn’t done it since she was very young. Her parents had both been raised in the country and were fond of taking a late Friday drive to the family’s old homestead in Gladewater. She recalled her mother always packed snacks and a blanket, her Dad had binoculars for each of them. There was something else teasing at the edge of her memory; she was sure if she searched the internet, her memory would be tweaked.
Not even five minutes later she shouted, “Star Charts!”
Her Dad would show her a star chart, it was a wheel and you could see what should be easily visible based upon the time of year. She wondered if she could make one for tomorrow. At last, happy to have found something to do with her mind and hands, Shan was able to distract herself from musing about sexy, smiling lips.
Abdulla hit his home gym hard. He ran. He lifted. He sat in the tiny steam room that he and his cousins added on with their own hands. He had another meal. By the time he
had done all that, it was time for Isha. He prepared himself for prayer and afterward, went directly to bed and tried not to imagine smooth skin, a laughing face and almond shaped, thickly lashed eyes that seemed bottomless.
Shan had printed and assembled two star charts. She had run to the nearby hypermarket and purchased two sets of binoculars. She mixed a tasty fresh fruit punch with mint, grapes, oranges and lemons floating along the top of the pitcher. She baked brownies using her Neiman Marcus cookbook, one of the few wedding gifts she had kept. After cleaning the kitchen, she took another shower, meditated to quiet her mind and wrote in her prayer journal. Finally, she felt rest was attainable. She dreamed of Abdulla.
Across town, slipping below the waters of consciousness into the great mystery, sleep; Abdulla dreamed of Shan.
The night deepened, the moon fought the sun and lost. A new day dawned.
Chapter Seven
Abdulla woke before the moon lost its battle with the sun. He ate a very healthy breakfast and drank one and half liters of water. Staying hydrated during Ramadan was a challenge in such a warm climate. Discipline and early mornings were the rules, not the exception.
After Fajr, Abdulla did his daily reading; he was about halfway through the Quran. It was necessary to read the entire holy book during Ramadan and Abdulla typically used this extra morning time to do so.
He began to dress for work around 8:00 and was behind his desk, checking email by 9:00. In spite of his best intentions and rather daunting to do list, Shan invaded his mind. He wondered if she had been able to sleep last night. If not, he wondered what she did all night long, while all of Muscat lay dreaming. He determined in his mind he would wait until lunch before calling.
Shan forgot to wear her eye cover when she finally went to bed. Consequently, the impudent sun made it impossible for her to sleep late. She rolled over, grabbed the soft mask and covered her eyes. As she drifted back to sleep she wondered if Abdulla had been able to wake for an early morning meal and if he was having a good morning. Slumber reclaimed her before she could wonder much else. She was smiling.
Adored in Oman (Book 2 in Teach Me, Love Me Series): Interracial Romance Page 2