Chapter 5
Rheadur
One year and ten months later
“What are we going to do?”
“Have faith. I’ll figure something out,” Jazmina says, and I try to hold on to her certainty, but it’s getting harder to believe.
Almost two years ago, we were full of plans for the future. But all of that vanished like smoke in the air the moment her older brother, now Sheikh Naim, took the throne.
Our country, which under the former sheikh—the beloved Kamran—had been considered progressive when it came to women’s rights, has now been thrown a hundred years back in time.
He hasn’t reinstated the burqa as we feared, but we can no longer walk the streets without a chador[19], when before, the hijab was optional.
Because of these new restrictions, tourism has plummeted.
Of course, the idea of Jazmina and me studying in England is completely out of reach now, which also means I have no idea when I’ll see my mother again.
After the sheikh’s birthday celebration, the former ruler granted both of us permission to attend university abroad, despite Naim and my father’s opposition. Somehow, the two of them managed to convince Kamran that we needed to be older, since we were only seventeen at the time.
“Now, without the internet, we can’t even search for my mother anymore.”
We had already found her in New York, though the address listed online was outdated. But this week, Naim passed a law allowing women to keep their cell phones but banning them from accessing the internet altogether.
“Calm down, Adeela. My father won’t let this go on. You know he’s always respected women.”
“It’s not your brother’s strictness that scares me—I’m used to that at home. It’s the thought of never being able to leave and find my mother, or even call her.”
“Wait, what do you mean? Used to what strictness? Are you talking about your father?”
Even though she’s like a sister to me, I’ve never complained about my father to Jazmina. After all, he’s still the sheikh’s advisor, since Naim decided to keep him in that position.
“Nothing. I spoke without thinking.”
“No, Adeela. I want to hear it now. Are you telling me he hits you?”
“No,” I lie.
Because there are far worse things a father can do to a daughter.
I grew up hearing him call my mother a prostitute. Physical pain fades. Mental pain doesn’t.
“Then what?”
“He’s always been harsh with me because of who my mother is, but it got worse after the performance we gave at your father’s birthday celebration, almost two years ago.”
Of course, I’m simplifying things.
Both he and his wives, and my sisters, have always insulted me, saying that a fruit never falls far from the tree, a cruel reference to my mother.
They mocked her not only for being American but for having been a model before she met my father.
That performance on the sheikh’s birthday was simply the culmination of what they already thought of me. And even so, I don’t regret a single second.
I walked into that hall dying of embarrassment, my nerves a wreck, but the moment I saw Prince Kaled’s eyes on me, I forgot everything else.
For as long as the music lasted, and from the moment I saw him sitting there, I let myself imagine I was dancing for my man. Which, of course, was madness, even in a dream.
First, because of who he is—obviously, I’d never be a suitable wife for him—and second, because Kaled has never really lived here, not for as long as I can remember.
I doubt he even follows our customs.
Jazmina told me he studied at a boarding school in Switzerland and later majored in Economics in the United States.
When we still had internet access, she’d show me photos of him in magazines, on society pages, always with beautiful women clinging to his arm.
I shake my head and wonder, not for the first time, whether I made a fool of myself that night. For a fleeting instant, I thought he’d fallen under the same spell, because he couldn’t take his eyes off me. But when the music ended, he simply said goodbye to his father and left.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but that was a bucket of cold water that snapped me back to reality.
Since then, whenever he crosses my mind, I push the thought away quickly, which isn’t easy, because the prince is breathtaking.
I’m sure he’s over six feet tall, his body solid, his muscles impossible to hide even beneath the traditional robes worn by our men.
His hair is black, like his neatly trimmed beard. It isn’t mandatory for men in our emirate, only in the most radical countries, where they’re even required to grow it long. Still, I’m glad Kaled keeps his. It shows he’s still connected to his roots, even if he doesn’t live here.
His jaw is strong and square, exuding arrogance. His lips curve slightly at one corner, as if mocking the world.
I was mortified for running from him after overhearing his phone call, but I’d never been alone with a man who wasn’t my father, since I have no brothers, and I had no idea what to do.
He must have thought I was pathetic, especially compared to the gorgeous women he’s seen.
Since that night, he’s only been in Rheadur three times, and each time, he arrives and leaves so quickly I don’t even get the chance to see him.
“I’m sorry,” Jazmina says, pulling me back to the present. “I never meant to cause you trouble. I only wanted to make my father happy and win us our freedom.”
“I wouldn’t have done anything differently. I’ve never felt so free as I did that night, Jazmina. It was the best night of my life.”
“I promise we’ll get everything we want, my friend. I’ve been praying even harder lately, and I know my prayers will be heard. And when we finally leave, that night you call the best of your life will fade into a pale memory compared to all the ones we’ll create together.”
A Month and a Half Later
“There’s something going on, Adeela,” my friend says as soon as I enter, pulling me by the hand and leading me out to the balcony of her quarters. Jazmina is naturally restless, but lately, she’s been even more anxious than usual.
“I noticed, but I was waiting for you to decide when to tell me.” I know her as well as I know myself, but it’s not in my nature to force anything, so I’ve been waiting for her to confide in me on her own.
Despite the tension on her face, she comes closer and hugs me.
“You’re so good, Adeela. You never pressure me.
You’re truly the person I love most in the world after my parents.
You know I adore you like my ukht[20] by blood, right?
The smallest toe on your foot is worth more than all my sisters combined. ”
Jazmina, like me, has five sisters, but I can’t say that either hers or mine are people I’d want to spend even an hour with. Still, it’s not wise for her to make such comparisons; it could anger her father’s wives.
“Don’t say that,” I warn gently. “If one of your father’s wives hears you, you’ll be in trouble.”
“Why? It’s true.”
Trying to steer the conversation in a different direction, I pour us some tea. It’s not unusual for her to invite me to breakfast in her room. In fact, it’s almost a ritual for us.
“Hungry?” I ask.
“No, I’m too anxious to eat.”
I settle the napkin on my lap. “Tell me. You’re so nervous that now I can’t eat either. And I’m starving.”
“My brother Naim has disappeared.”
I had just picked up a piece of lavash[21], but I set it back down on my plate, startled. “What do you mean, disappeared?”
It’s not uncommon for Sheikh Naim to vanish for long periods since he took power, much to the people’s frustration.
Even Rheadur’s conservative, radical faction, which my father belongs to and which supported the new sheikh’s harsh restrictions on women’s rights, has begun to feel embarrassed by its leader.
It seems Naim’s traditionalism applies only to Rheadur’s women, since Jazmina has shown me, through various Western magazines—access to which she somehow regained—photos of him partying on his yacht.
I know both Naim and Prince Kaled own yachts, as well as private helicopters and jets.
They both seem to live life to the fullest, but while the prince is free to do so, as his only responsibility is his shipbuilding company, the sheikh, in theory, shouldn’t have that luxury. Our country needs a present, active ruler.
I don’t know how much of the population is aware of these scandals, but the upper echelons of government certainly are.
More than once, Jazmina has told me she’s overheard her father saying how ashamed he is of his son’s behavior.
About six months ago, there were rumors of unrest within the country.
We’ve always been a wealthy nation, but lately, with the sheikh’s lack of investment, unemployment has risen.
No one wants to visit Rheadur anymore, when once, people from around the world came to buy the unique jewelry sold in our gold souks[22].
Hospitals have stopped being built, and the supreme leader doesn’t even attend traditional ceremonies anymore.
I think the final straw came when word spread that he had broken the Ramadan fast[23] attending a daytime lunch in Paris and indulging in French cuisine.
“He’s gone,” she says. “I heard my father talking with the advisors. Apparently, they’ve already organized a task force to find him. Naim’s never been gone this long. It’s been over a month since he last visited his wives and daughters.”
I listen carefully, unsure what to think, but nothing could prepare me for what she says next.
“There’s a rumor he ran away with a Western mistress. If that’s true, the emirate has no ruler.”
“What? Are you saying our sheikh’s gone for good? Why would he do that? I mean—didn’t he have everything he wanted here?”
“Maybe not the freedom to do all the reckless things he desired.”
“Jazmina, forgive me for saying this, but unlike your father, your brother becoming sheikh didn’t stop him from doing everything against our beliefs.”
She seems thoughtful. “You’re right. So what do you think happened?”
“I have no idea, but maybe something more serious.”
“With all the bodyguards around him? I doubt it. There are only two possible ways my brother could’ve been trapped: either by a terrorist attack, which it wasn’t, or it would’ve made international headlines, or he crossed someone powerful enough not to fear him.”
“If he never comes back, even if he’s not dead, what happens then?”
“Dead or alive, there’s a law stating that a sheikh can’t remain outside the country for more than three months without a valid reason. In forty days, that time will run out.”
“And then?”
“Kaled will be named the new sheikh of Rheadur.”