The Contract

by Zeenat Mahal

  She extricated her hand and said, “If you understand that, then you understand my reluctance.”

  “Yes, I do, but don’t cheat yourself and me of a chance at happiness, Shahira. All I’m asking for is a chance. For both of us and our kids. Is that too much to hope for?” Shahira looked at him pityingly, as if he’d completely missed the point.

  “We made a pact. And I’m certain you’ll honor it, being the gentleman that you are.”

  “So you’re determined to stick to the contract?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going to change your mind Shahira.”

  “You’ll be wasting your time.”

  Exasperated, he said, “You’ve been divorced for six years. Are you going to let that man destroy the rest of your life?”

  “Seven, actually…but who’s counting?” she laughed nervously.

  “You’re going to judge me by someone else’s actions?” he asked, his heart constricting.

  Resigned she said, “Look, you might as well hear it. My libido’s dead. Has been for the last ten years and I just can’t…you know.”

  Astounded, for a minute he couldn’t speak and then he faltered, “You’re serious? You’re saying you’ve been celibate for seven years?”

  “I’m bound by my cultural and religious constraints, and happily, mind you. I know it’s not considered very cool these days but this is who I am. And I’m not apologizing for my beliefs.”

  One of those traumatic experiences had resulted in Shahaan and it was clear that she was still traumatized by whatever that bastard had done to her. Shocked that there were still women who could remain celibate in this day and age, he felt a strange tenderness towards her. She’d given all she had to give to someone who hadn’t cared, who hadn’t valued or appreciated her.

  “Well, like I said, we can go through that together, maybe get professional help if you agree. I think we could be happy. I think we could have a real marriage.”

  He watched her, standing so still, so unmoved. She was so brave. She’d secured her child’s future in a gamble. She’d never again asked him for anything after that. Her only stipulation was no sex. His looks, money or seduction routines were not enough to change her mind and he so wanted her to.

  His feelings were involved, he was sure now, but just how much? He had to make the choice right then. This incredibly strong woman, who’d taken on his outrageous offer and made a success of it, had faced God knew what at the hands of the father of her child, now wanted an assurance, one he wasn’t willing to give, not any more.

  When she didn’t answer he smiled and said softly, “I won’t be scared off that easily Shahira. I’m going to try my best to convince you that not all men are bad. I will change your mind about me, and our…understanding. But this holiday’s for you as much as for the kids. You don’t have to be looking over your shoulder thinking I’ll jump you.”

  She smiled and then let out a small laugh. He smiled too. And both of them decided to not pursue the subject of ‘after’. Wisely, each took what the other gave, albeit with misgivings.

  ≈

  NINE

  Europe was everything she’d dreamed it would be. She was just as excited as the kids and had her nose pressed to the cab window, squealing at the landmarks familiar to her through books and movies only. She laughed with abandon, something she hadn’t ever done in front of Hussain before. But that night, when they’d talked about things so openly their relationship paradigm had shifted, so she didn’t feel as conscious in front of him. She thought that perhaps they were almost friends now. Distant friends, friendly acquaintances perhaps.

  She was as overawed as the kids by their hotel. It was stupendous. The huge foyer was ornate, embellished with gilt and when they reached their suite, she knew exactly how Eliza Doolittle must have felt like.

  The kids wanted to see everything and pretending to keep an eye on them she followed. There were two bedrooms, one with two single beds, and the other with a double. She didn’t give it another thought because she was absolutely certain that she and Shahaan would sleep in one room and Hussain and Natasha in the other.

  By the time they came back, Hussain had ordered tea and the way he looked at her, she realized he hadn’t been fooled and knew exactly why she’d been following the children. Well, so what? She decided she wasn’t going to be embarrassed, rather she would embrace the sense of fun and novelty she was experiencing and celebrate it.

  “Like it?” Hussain asked no one in particular but automatically, she answered with the kids, “Yes!”

  She smiled, “I’m just as excited as the kids. It’s my first time abroad.”

  Even though he’d known, it still came as a surprise that something he’d taken for granted was a source of so much pleasure for her and a novelty.

  She wanted to freshen up so she said to Shahaan, “Come on Shahaan, let’s go put our things in the room.”

  “I’ll do that,” Hussain said decisively, and picked up Shahaan and Natasha’s luggage and stacked it all in the room with the two single beds. She looked at him uncomprehendingly and was about to say something, when he looked at her and said quietly, “Not now.”

  He transferred her case to the double bedroom.

  Well, later then, she thought and went to take a shower. She enjoyed a relaxed bubble bath and came out refreshed, wearing a big sloppy grin.

  Hussain smiled when she entered and asked, “Tea?”

  She nodded and he poured her some. She tried to get past her shock as she took the cup from him.

  “Shahira, is something wrong?” Her father had considered it an honor for her mother to serve him; Usman had considered it a sin if she didn’t serve him. She’d known only a few men in her life, most of them relatives, and none of them would ever have thought to pour a cup of tea for themselves let alone their wives. And she wasn’t even his wife, technically.

  “Not at all. Thank you.”

  They had a lovely tea with scones, clotted cream and strawberry jam, little sandwiches and tiny pastries…heaven. She enjoyed her food and made no bones about it. Hussain was taking pleasure in their obvious delight. He wasn’t such a bad person after all, she thought. He proved her right the very next instant, because despite his obvious tiredness he asked happily, “Okay kids, do you want to rest now or go out right away?”

  Being kids of course they wanted to go out. She couldn’t believe that the cobbled streets under her shoes were those of London. Meandering through the lanes and back streets of Russell Square they came back to their hotel to rest. It was nearly seven so she gave Shahaan a bath and when he was done, told Natasha to do the same.

  They ordered room service because they were all exhausted by then and didn’t want to go out again. Shahaan went to sleep halfway through dinner, and Hussain, as was becoming his habit, lifted him easily and carried him to the kids’ room. Shahira was now feverishly thinking of how to make it clear that their rooms were going to be separate. Hussain nipped her plans, or the beginnings of any, in the bud very effectively.

  “Come, Natasha. You must be tired, too. Shahira, go make yourself comfortable. I just have to make a few calls before I turn in.” His jaw was set and his eyes glinted in warning.

  She heeded it for no reason other than she didn’t want to seem ungracious and gauche. They had already come to a civilized decision and she was no Marilyn Monroe that Hussain was in danger of losing his head over her just because they were in the same space.

  So, smiling at him, and indicating that all was good with her, she entered the double bedroom and shut the door behind her.

  ***

  Hussain entered their room half an hour later. He’d deliberately given her the time to get used to the idea of sharing the room with him. The sooner she got comfortable with it the better, since he was sure by now that was exactly how he wanted it. She was his wife in all but one way, and well, that was just stupid, knowing how attracted he was to her. He was no troll, so she was sure to come aroun
d.

  He stopped in the doorway. She was wearing very prim cotton pajamas and a loose, patterned t-shirt and was lying at one end of the bed, in almost a fetal position. She wasn’t under the covers but lying on the top with a bedcover of some sort over her to create a wall of bed linen between them.

  He patted himself on the back mentally for his foresight in pre-empting any Victorian gestures on her part; he’d asked for all couches to be removed from their suite. She would probably be sleeping on one of those if they’d had any. But he knew her and how her mind worked. Shaking his head at her sleeping form, he went to change.

  She hadn’t stirred. Even when he lay down, she didn’t move. He fidgeted to make himself comfortable. He wasn’t going to confine himself to one tiny sliver of the bed, so he stretched. But no matter how much he stretched she was safely out of reach. And he wasn’t going to go back on his word and frighten her by deliberately closing the space she had so methodically created between them.

  He awoke next morning to the sounds of children giggling and arguing and Shahira’s placating tones from the sitting room. He smiled and got up from the bed, already feeling cheerful.

  “Abba! Where are we going today? What are we going to do? Where are you taking us?”

  “Natasha!” Shahira laughed and stopped her daughter. “Let Abba have a breather and maybe a cup of tea before we badger him about the very interesting plans we have for today.”

  “Thank you, and point taken.”

  She laughed. He noticed her figure-hugging jeans showing off her curves. Nice.

  Hussain couldn’t help but think how pleasant this was and how long ago, if ever, he’d felt like this, at home and at peace, as he finished breakfast with his family. They spent three days in London then went to Yorkshire and visited Blackpool as well.

  The children had a great time, and so did he, teasing Shahira who refused to get onto the Ferris wheel no matter how much all of them cajoled or threatened. Apparently she had a fear of heights.

  He delighted in the pleasure his three companions took in the little things that he wouldn’t even have noticed if not for them—the B&B and its quaintness, the beautiful English countryside, and apparently the Bronte parsonage that he hadn’t known was so close. She was an avid reader and tentatively suggested that they go visit, if they could. So they did and although it was extremely boring, she’d been delighted with it.

  ***

  The next day they took a flight to Germany and then on to France where Hussain had a few meetings to attend. They’d had a blast, except that Hussain was often irritated with Shahira because she was too careful about what he spent on Shahaan and her. She let him buy them food and pick the tab for their stay but every time he asked her to get something for herself, she smiled graciously and said no, thank you. He was beginning to think that she didn’t want him to spend money on her, which was ridiculous, since everything she owned had been bought with his money. But he didn’t broach the subject, just stewed over it.

  They went straight to Disneyland where they’d stay for three days. He had a few meetings with some Arab investors, and then they’d go back home.

  This time, Shahira went on all the rides and Hussain refused to step anywhere near them. In the evening, they dined at a wonderfully Parisian café, and true to the spirit of the city, they had a dance contest during dinner, with people volunteering to come on stage.

  Wanting to trip her up, Hussain called the host’s attention to her. To his great surprise and chagrin, she went right ahead. Her dressy blouse was flirty pink over wide-bottomed summery white trousers. She looked young, carefree and extremely fetching as she went on stage, and went straight for the oldest guy there who could barely stand straight. They’d be the laughing stock of the evening.

  There were a lot of young couples and some more mature but very trendy ones; it was Paris after all. And there she was, guiding the old Frenchman as she moved to the music, laughing and…Hussain narrowed his eyes. Was she also chatting with him? He wasn’t French, then? They were applauded onto the second round, much to his amazement and even more surprisingly were still on the stage in the final round. Their kids were jumping and cheering her on and the host was seriously in love with her, it seemed, because he kept circling her. Then he announced.

  “Mesdames et Messieurs, les lauréats applaudissent à la victoire!”

  She and her oldie were being cheered and applauded the most, obviously more for her kindness than any skill, Hussain thought.

  “Les gagnants, Shahira Mme et M. Jean Paul, obtenir un séjour de deux nuits dans notre hôtel gratuite avec petit déjeuner gratuit!”

  Smiling, she went up to the host and whispered something in his ear. He first kissed her on both cheeks, which, at last and thankfully, flustered her a little and then he kissed her hand, before handing the microphone to her. Shahira smiled at the audience and as she spoke there was another hearty cheer from the audience, “Bonne soirée. J'aimerais faire partie des gains de l'épouse de M. Jean Paul qui est assise, droit. Il espoir vous profitez de vos vacances...”

  The audience went into a frenzy of applause, and the old man embraced her and then kissed her on both cheeks. Hussain, who’d been too busy staring at her as she sprouted perfect French out of that inviting little mouth, got up with a start. What the bloody hell! Was the entire city going to kiss her tonight?

  She’d given her share of the prize to the oldie’s wife. That was so like her and he found that he was clapping and laughing with the rest of them.

  “Well, aren’t you full of surprises?” He said when she came back to their table. She laughed, her face aglow and still looking happily at the old couple now enjoying the limelight.

  “Anything else I should know?”

  “I want to learn French, too!” pouted Natasha.

  “I’ll teach you. I love learning and teaching, as you may remember.”

  They laughed. She enjoyed the food and taught the kids a few words of French as they ate. Throughout the rest of the evening, Hussain couldn’t get over how she’d chosen to dance with the underdog, won despite the odds, then given up her prize without a second thought, and done all of that in perfect French. She was so very unusual.

  He found himself watching her and wanting her the entire evening.

  ***

  When the children were asleep, she came out of their room, looking quite exhausted.

  “Next time, I’ll put them to bed. They’re very demanding.”

  She smiled. “That’s okay. I don’t mind.”

  “Yes, I noticed. You can’t help being a generous, giving person, can you?” he said smiling.

  She looked slightly uncomfortable. “Yes, well, not really I mean that depends…”

  Hussain realized that she might be thinking that he wanted her generosity to extend to their bedroom and he burst out laughing. She looked even more uncomfortable at his sudden mirth.

  “Really, Shahira, and here I thought you were a practical woman of the world. You really think that’s how I’m going to play this? You gravely underestimate me.”

  He dropped the timbre of his voice a notch and added, “When we finally get there, and we will, it won’t be your generosity that’ll sway you into my arms, but something far more intense, I hope. Love conquers all.”

  “You’re hardly in the position to tell me about practicality and reality after having offered me a contractual marriage of convenience.”

  Hussain looked abashed.

  “Touché. Only, we both know, it isn’t that any more is it?”

  She went to change without comment and emerged in her usual prim cotton pajamas. Her T-shirt was so loose and big it covered her like a tent. Hussain suppressed his laughter somewhat but he couldn’t resist asking, “Is this puritanical nightwear for my benefit?”

  She shrugged looking embarrassed, and said with a faint smile, “Any possibility of you not dwelling on my nightwear so much?”

  “Unlikely.”

  “Try and fin
d something else to dwell on.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like your own nightwear. And leave me alone, will you?”

  “I thought I had.”

  He couldn’t help the husky note that crept into his voice. It was so damn difficult, being so close to her and not do anything about it. She blushed and looked away.

  “Considering that you’re letting Frenchmen kiss you left, right and center, I think as your husband I should be allowed at least similar privileges.”

  She gasped and smothered her sudden burst of laughter. Hussain smiled, looking at her slim back that she diligently turned towards him every night.

  “You’re my employer, not my husband. And you have no privileges whatsoever.”

  Hussain spoke in a quiet, somber voice.

  “Oh, I think we both know that’s no longer true. I’m your husband. Period. And there are privileges I’m already enjoying that you may not be aware of.”

  She stiffened.

  “The contract was a foolish whim I imposed on something that’s sacred. We’re married, Shahira, and no matter what kind of spin we put on it that fact does not change.”

  “But we both agreed to this marriage because we didn’t want to be burdened with a spouse.”

  “You’re not a burden to me.”

  He knew she wasn’t going to be polite and say likewise; and he knew exactly what was burdensome to her. The only way that he could negate her notions about sex was by not doing what she didn’t want him to do. And he was her husband, and no way was he going to force himself on her. She whispered in a tortured voice, “I’m sorry. You don’t understand…”

  “Help me to understand then, Shahira. Do you really find me repugnant?”

  “No! Not at all.”

  He almost laughed with relief at the vehemence in her voice.

  “I’m just…”

  She stopped; her shoulders suddenly tense. And Hussain had a sudden epiphany.

  “You’re afraid.”