by Zeenat Mahal
She turned slowly and faced him. Hussain perused her face in wonder. She was pretty in an understated way. The sensation of being centered every time he looked at her was still new and almost miraculous. She was a stranger, had been a stranger and now he felt as if she was the anchor of his being. How could he think that of someone he’d hardly spent three weeks with? There was a strange quality in her that had tugged and pulled at him even before he’d known her. She’d hooked him when she’d banged the phone in his face after giving him a dose of her righteous anger and then calling him back to negotiate with him as if it was the most ordinary and sensible thing to do.
“You don’t know what I went through when I was previously married.”
“I wasn’t happily married either, Shahira.”
“Yeah? Were you raped and tortured? Were you thrown around every other day, and were you then made to feel that you’d done something wrong because you got pregnant? Did you have to protect your child from his own father in fear that he might be the next punching bag?”
“Oh, baby…” He made a movement to hold her but she shook her head.
“Please. Don’t. I shouldn’t have said…please forget it. It was a long time ago. I’m not that person anymore.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Shahira…I’m so sorry.”
What else could he do? What could he say? There was so much he wanted to do. He wanted to hold her and love her, show her how much she deserved to be loved, show her all the ways he wanted to love her.
He also wanted to find that sick bastard and beat him to a pulp.
“I don’t think I can ever trust a man again. I’m sorry.”
“I know. I can understand how difficult it must be. I have my scars too. Different, but deep. I’ll tell you some day. We could both be happy and have a new life. I’m willing to do that. I’ll risk getting hurt, if you will.”
“You’re kidding yourself if you think that’s what you’re doing, Hussain. You just want to have a convenient relationship but you won’t make any changes in your lifestyle. If you didn’t do that for your own daughter why would you do that for me?”
Hussain didn’t answer. This was something he wasn’t prepared to talk about, not even to her. Not yet.
“You’re right to question that Shahira, but you’re wrong to presume what I will or will not do.”
He put the light out and turned away. But it was a long, long time before he could go to sleep. Because something was niggling at him, and he wasn’t as unafraid of what he was offering as he pretended to be.
***
Dressed in a light grey suit and looking extremely handsome and distinguished, Hussain was getting ready to leave for his meeting. He was always dressed impeccably, Shahira thought. Obviously with his money he should’ve been, but she couldn’t help comparing him to most men she’d known who were usually shabbily dressed. Usman could afford nothing more than polyester-mix trousers and acrylic-mixed shirts.
“I won’t be long, but I may have to take them out for dinner, so you guys might be on your own for most of the time today,” he warned her.
“That’s okay. We’ll manage,” She reassured him.
He nodded at her, repressing this insane urge to kiss her before leaving. As if it was something he was used to doing, like a habit, a comforting and old routine. He had to consciously stop and shake himself before leaving. But the feeling of having missed something, forgotten something didn’t leave him all day.
Shahira took the kids out and they had a good time but she found herself thinking of Hussain often throughout the day. He was kind, and thoughtful, she realized; something she wasn’t used to seeing in men, not in her experience.
He came soon after they finally reached their hotel room around five in the evening. The kids were delighted to see him. She felt her heart give a slight involuntary jump at the sight of him, but she stamped out the feeling as a ridiculous notion. She wasn’t the romantic sort at all. It was the Parisian effect, she laughed.
Hussain talked and wrestled with the kids but there was a faint underlying discomfort in the air. Shahira left them to it and went to her room to sort out some of her luggage. Soon, however, Hussain followed her inside, looking wary.
“I have a favor to ask.”
He must not be used to asking for favors because Shahira had never seen him look so uncomfortable.
She waited with a small smile.
“The thing is…I do have to go to dinner with the Arabs but I’m afraid you’ll have to accompany me. I wouldn’t have asked but one of the investors has a French wife and he insisted on bringing her along when he found out I was here with my family and well, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course I don’t, not at all. When do you want me to be ready?”
“By eight? Do you have something appropriate to wear?”
She looked stumped but he was quick to reassure her.
“Don’t worry…there’s a small Indian boutique I noticed around the corner. Why don’t you buy yourself something?”
He gave her his credit card.
“Thank you but...” she hesitated.
“Shahira, you need something formal to wear. You can’t go in jeans to a business meeting. Please don’t be difficult about this. It’s been a long day for me and we both know it isn’t likely to end for me just yet. So please, go buy something while I watch the kids.”
She took the card, looking uncomfortable.
He added smoothly, “I’ve asked the manager to arrange for a babysitter for the evening. They have reliable agencies and I’m sure they’ll send someone capable.”
She nodded. She knew she could trust him about these things, more so since she wouldn’t know the first thing about it. He went back to the children, giving her a small nod of gratitude. Shahira bought a gorgeous black silk sari from the boutique. It was the cheapest thing she could find and it was still far too expensive in her opinion but she had no choice.
She dressed with care. She wanted to look nice for him. The realization gave her pause but with a mental shrug she continued. She put up her hair in a chignon and tiny diamond studs she owned in her ears. She was checking her reflection when Hussain walked in and for no reason, she found herself blushing. Probably, she reasoned, because he’d caught her admiring herself like some narcissistic teenager.
He walked up to her and stood quietly beside her for a moment. Her heart fluttered again and she managed to look up and meet his gaze, pulse still racing. Why was she having these reactions to him? She didn’t want to feel this way. She’d never felt anything like this before. She’d dreamed of it, hoped for it even, perhaps, long ago. Not anymore, though. Now, she was cautious and disillusioned.
“You look beautiful,” Hussain told her with a half-smile that had her heart racing again.
“Thank you.”
He stood still, watching her till she felt her face relax into another involuntary smile. Seeing it, he smiled too, his eyes full of promises that she was too afraid to look deeply into. Shahira left to tell the children to behave themselves with the babysitter, who came soon after. A very pleasant middle-aged woman of indeterminate nationality.
They left shortly after but when they reached the ground floor Hussain stopped her suddenly, as if he’d caught sight of something. Taking her arm, he said smiling, “Just one more thing before we go.”
He was leading her to the small Cartier outlet in the hotel lobby. Shahira was a little apprehensive.
“What are we doing here?”
Hussain smiled at her and said, “We’re buying you a gift. I hope you’ll accept it as gracefully as you do everything else in life.”
Shahira didn’t know what to do but Hussain was busy with the saleswoman and they both ignored her as he shopped for diamonds. Shahira wasn’t amused. At last, he was happy with something and turning towards her said, “I like these.”
He held a pair of gorgeous and huge diamond studs.
“These don’t go well with your
outfit at all.”
He burst out laughing.
“You know very well, emeralds are my thing. Although, now that you suggest it, I could be persuaded to wear them if you’ll do a little experimenting with body piercings for me.”
“No thanks. And I have mine on already. See?”
She showed him her tiny studs.
“I can hardly see them, they’re miniscule,” he said, in a deceptively casual voice. “You’re not going to be difficult about this, I hope?”
“Not at all. There’s nothing difficult about it. It’s very simple. I can’t accept such expensive gifts from you, Hussain. It’s unseemly.”
“Unseemly? By what stretch of the imagination is it unseemly?” He lowered his voice and said with restraint, “I paid for what you’re wearing, have been wearing for nearly a year. What kind of foolish attitude is this? Why do you continue to try and prove some elusive point by refusing to let me buy you or Shahaan anything?”
“This isn’t a trifle. Please, this isn’t the place for this discussion.”
“A bit late for that.” He turned and gave his credit card to the saleswoman with a face that seemed to be etched in stone.
“Hussain, please, I earn what you give me and all that you have given me was justified by the contract we have, but this isn’t and I can’t accept such expensive gifts because it’s not like you’re my real husband and you don’t have to behave like you are…or…”
His whisper didn’t quite mask his fury.
“Or expect you to behave like a wife? That’s it, isn’t it? You think I’m giving you diamonds to convince you or oblige you into giving me your favors in bed?”
She felt chagrined at hearing it put so blandly, and it sounded rather idiotic when he said it.
“I’m sorry…I can’t help what you think, and I can’t change the way I feel about these things.”
He continued to stare at her in utter silence, his eyes searching her face and when she didn’t meet his eyes, he grabbed the box and thrust it in her face, and said shortly, “Wear them. You’re going as my wife and you need to look the part.”
She knew he was angry. She didn’t want to embarrass him any more than she already had. So she put them on, telling herself it was just for the night.
Hussain led the way outside in chilly silence. She tried to look nonchalant but she felt she’d done something wrong. But of course she hadn’t, she’d done the sensible thing. She wasn’t going to compromise her principles to make someone else feel better. Hadn’t she done that before? Hadn’t she done it repeatedly only to be scorched innumerable times?
The valet brought the car as they approached and Hussain took the keys from him. He did not forget or ignore his usual good grace; he came around and opened the door for her, his eyes focused somewhere a foot above her head. She sat down, still feeling miserable.
It was a fancy restaurant and Shahira began to worry about committing a faux pas that would embarrass Hussain. He pulled out a chair; she slid into it, suddenly very close to tears. Thankfully the guests arrived; two tall, good-looking Arabs, much older than Hussain, and a Frenchwoman, also in her forties.
Shahira greeted the woman in French, which delighted her and made the Arabs happy because they exclaimed excitedly and inclined their heads in her general direction.
They chatted about their business, the Frenchwoman about her country, theirs and how great everything French was. Shahira agreed on a number of things because they were true, including how confident French women were about themselves and their sexuality. Then she heard one of the Arabs falter, ask the other how to translate a certain Arab word into English.
“What’s that word for lalnan-zahta?”
“Integrity,” Shahira said, without thinking.
Everyone looked at her and she realized she’d interrupted them. She looked at Hussain, self-conscious and chagrined to have embarrassed him; Arabs were known to be sensitive about such things.
The Arab she’d helped out asked, surprised and delighted, “You know Arabic?”
“Yes…na’am.”
The Arabs looked at Hussain, exclaiming why he’d kept his wonderful wife such a secret and started chatting and asking for her assistance whenever they got stuck. Hussain seemed to be carved out of marble, speaking only in monosyllables whenever he thought he could get away with it. Between the French and the Arabic and Hussain’s cold demeanor, it was a long, long evening for Shahira.
At last, when it was over and their guests departed happily, Hussain asked curtly, “Would you like anything? Or are you ready to go home, to the hotel?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
He nodded and they started towards the car. The drive back was just as frosty as the one from the hotel.
However, Shahira was no longer feeling guilty or reprehensible. She felt quite irritated. She’d done him a favor and she’d been good company, what else could she do? She made no efforts to conceal her irritation; Hussain wasn’t trying to hide his either. That seemed to push him further up the wall. He was now gritting his teeth.
The children were in bed and fast asleep. Shahira thanked the babysitter and saw her out. Hussain was silently but savagely taking his tie off, which he threw on the chair, giving her a fuming look. She didn’t acknowledge his anger, and taking the earrings off carefully, put them back into the box, which she then placed on a table nearby. He paused, threw her a furious look and turned away. His jacket came off, just as roughly and was discarded the same way. She sat down on the bed to remove her shoes.
She waited. He didn’t say anything. So she took her change of clothes and went to the children’s bathroom to give him some space. She’d taken all of Usman’s tantrums without a word, always thinking she had to put it right because she must have done something wrong. Those days were far behind her.
When she came out, she looked at the children for a while and thought of wriggling in with Shahaan, when she heard a low, barely controlled hiss of fury, “Don’t. Even. Think. About it!”
He was holding the door open, now dressed in his usual pajamas and white crew neck, his eyes boring into hers. She went past him into their room and lay down on her side of the bed. He followed and put out the lights. In the thick dark silence, she waited for him to say something. She wanted him to say anything that would tell her he was not this man who’d throw a tantrum because his wife knew something he didn’t. She waited a long time.
She was just about to drift off, when suddenly, as if no longer able to stop himself, he whispered furiously, “You know what? I want to know everything about you right now. Tell me everything.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin.
“W...what?”
“It was embarrassing. I was as shocked as the Arabs.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was important. I had no intention of embarrassing you…”
She couldn’t help thinking of all those times she had ‘embarrassed’ Usman because she had known something that he hadn’t or when he thought she had upstaged him for some nefarious reasons of her own. At the end of the day, the male ego was the same.
She hadn’t expected Hussain to be that kind of man. He was so kind and thoughtful in so many ways. He’d said all those things to Nudrat about her. Had he not meant them then, just as she’d suspected? Was he really embarrassed, or just angry because she had unwittingly displayed skills he didn’t have? Why was she even thinking about it? Why did she care?
“I wish you didn’t feel the need to keep me at such a distance, Shahira. I feel we’ve come a long way since that stupid contract, and yet you’re determined to be a stranger. I get it. You were hurt. But don’t let him win by turning away from love. Give life another chance.”
She wanted to say something but couldn’t.
“Every time I make an effort to make our relationship something more than this sad arid contract we’ve got going, you do something, or say something to stress the damn thing. Like tonight. You’re determined to shut
me out. Don’t do that.”
Was that why he was angry? Because he’d felt shut out? She’d refused the earrings too. Or maybe she was finding excuses for him.
“What do you hope to achieve with your effort?” she asked.
“I want a normal, healthy, happy marriage with you. Is that such a bad thing?”
“We hardly know each other. You know nothing about me, Hussain. You just said you didn’t even know I could speak Arabic.”
“That’s my point exactly. Why don’t I know these things about you? I want to know. I don’t want to feel like a stranger to you…just like every other man. I’m not, Shahira. Let me prove it to you.”
After a while he asked, “How do you know so many languages?”
“Only French and Arabic. I took the courses after my divorce. I like learning languages. I feel empowered knowing things.”
He chuckled.
“Why’s that funny?”
“You still have a lot to learn. You know nothing about passion and desire and…”
“You…promised…”
Her voice was barely a whisper and she was immobile with something—was it disappointment in him? But it was more than that. There was almost a sense of expectancy that was both thrilling and a little frightening.
Hussain answered, slightly irate, “I know I did. And I remember that, but you didn’t believe me. My word isn’t good enough. I’ve never been so insulted in my life, Shahira or been made to feel so cheap.”
He was upset about the earrings, not about the Arabs. He was hurt at her refusal to accept gifts from him, not because he felt she’d upstaged him.
≈
TEN
The next morning Shahira found her gaze magnetically turning to Hussain several times, so much so that by noon, he wore a smug smile. Which chafed at her for no other reason than he was getting too sure of himself. Probably because he had reason to be. Which meant that she was giving him signals that were misleading. Because no way was she falling for him, that would be disastrous.
They spent their day sightseeing, Champs Elysees, again; walks along the Seine; they stayed mostly on the Les Iles, the larger of the two islands that constitutes Paris. When Hussain wasn’t holding Shahaan’s or Natasha’s hand, he was holding hers, which sent little shivers of thrill down her spine. Or when he put his hand on the small of her back she felt a strange warm glow in the vicinity of her heart. At times she caught him looking at her in a way that made her heart leap rather uncomfortably.