Black Book of Arabia (13 page)

Saad agreed to meet the matchmaker to discuss the details further. She instructed him to bring a sack of rice, a jar of honey, and random groceries when he came to her home. He sat there wondering how many men had fetched her groceries and if this would be a common practice until she found him a decent, tailor-fitted wife.

While he was at the supermarket he shopped for desert trip groceries: wood for the fire, thick desert carpets, coal for cooking, ground coffee and large water bottles. He bought a DVD for his son, a makeup tutorial for his wife, Miss Dior perfume for his elder daughter, and salt-and-vinegar chips for his youngest daughter. The little one loved chips, and he loved giving her little gifts. Children were so easy to please, and cheaper too. He was doing the mathematics now of how much he should set aside for the new wife and if he would have to set aside money for her home groceries as well.

“I have taken up falconry,” Saad announced to Huda. “I'm going to the desert this weekend to choose a good racer. Will you be needing anything? Have fun with the kids and say hi to your mom.”

That Thursday Saad met with the matchmaker again and told her his desires. He wanted a woman who was tall, fair, and shapely, with a small waist. He specified that he did not want a loose sack where the pregnancy bump had been. “I do not want a skinny woman, though,” he told the matchmaker. “I want curves. And I do not want her to call me or text me. I am very happily married, but I want to enjoy what is left of my youth. I already have children, so I need her to understand that I do not want to have kids.” He was trying to both justify and explain his situation. Surely there were women looking for the same thing. Someone simply looking for a husband under God's light and blessing, who had enough children and would just like to have a good time.

“Women get married to settle down. You are just looking for a hit-and-run,” said the matchmaker. “None of the good families will throw their daughters down a bottomless pit without a safety net. What security will you be offering?” She looked at him without smiling. He looked at her nervously, but he was beginning to get angry.

“Everyone does it. You're making me look like a bad guy here. I hear about royals doing it all the time. You're making it sound like I'm a villain.”

The guilt was setting in, and he began to feel perspiration on his forehead.

“Would you marry off your daughter to such a man?” asked the matchmaker. “Someone who is publicly uncommitted to a woman, who comes and goes as he pleases?”

She was testing him. He decided that she probably did not have any brides or wanted a higher commission than he was willing to pay. She was greedy. She probably wanted more gifts and money, and he was beginning to think that he did not get her enough groceries. He wiped his face with a handkerchief and continued his mini-battle. It did hurt to think that something like this could ever happen to his daughter, who was four. She was his dear little angel, and much more of a blessing than the troublesome boys. She was always happy with whatever he brought home, and the boys were never satisfied.

He continued to discuss, defend, and explain his situation to the matchmaker, how he would be a good husband, even if only over the weekends. With that, they
parted. The matchmaker promised to keep her eyes open for a bride that suited his description. He was hesitant and almost forlorn; he felt like he had already proposed and been refused.

He pictured the Filipina barista at the coffee shop he sometimes visited in Bahrain. She always smiled at him and told him about the fruits in her country and how delicious they were. Was that a veiled hint? She was beautiful and maybe even interested in dating him, but he was too shy to ask. Besides, it was just a weekend trip that he took every few weeks to Bahrain. She probably was a good Catholic, too. If only he could get her to convert. She might be an option if the matchmaker did not do her job.

He continued going to the desert, not only to establish an alibi, but because he actually had begun to enjoy the falcon trips and gatherings with his friends. He had trained falcons in his youth, and it all came back to him quickly. He even brought his children once, and they enjoyed it very much. Huda was upset that the boys had come home with scratches, looking like they had been hit by a tumbleweed twirling across the desert. They had sand on their faces and bodies and even in their ears. “They will have to take a shower every day for a week to get all of the sand off of them,” she complained.

Saad turned a deaf ear. The kids had a fabulous time with Dad, which was something Huda was always complaining that he did not do enough about. Now that he had, she plucked the harp of discontent, saying that the kids were
her business alone, that he was not a good example, and something about being irresponsible and immature. He held his tongue and thought about how most of his salary went to the house, schools, and vacations, leaving almost nothing for himself. His only leisure was napping and visiting his friends in their
majlis
, where they would smoke, chat, gossip, and eat. He began to wish even more that he had something for himself—his part-time wife.

A few weeks later, while he was filing paperwork at the office, the matchmaker called. “I think I have someone,” she said. “She is a few years younger than you are and fits your physical requirements perfectly.”

“What are her circumstances?”

“She is a widow. She has a home, but no source of income. Her parents are dead, and her remaining family cannot assist her. She has no children. She recently had a hysterectomy, so no children in the future, either. She wants someone for financial support who can satisfy her physical needs as well. She is lonely and fresh on my list of applicants.”

Finally
, he thought. Tailor-designed. He could not have asked for a better fit. He held his breath; the excitement was coursing through his veins. “How often would she expect me to visit?”

“Actually, that is entirely up to you. I would say twice a week is average,” the matchmaker said, drawing out the word “average.” Saad knew she was making a joke.

“Can she refuse me?” He trembled. His ego had been rocked by the delay in getting a response, and even his
friends had gone quiet about finding him someone. All they could come up with were old, shriveled women or young gold-diggers who wanted an arm, a leg, and a kidney after they cleared out your life savings.

“She will not refuse you. You would be surprised. A lot of men talk about doing this, but very few go through with it. She will accept you. Just do not embarrass me. Do not dance on the wounds of other injured folks. Remember God and fear Him in these women. Remember, you have daughters.”

“I will,” said Saad.

“She's from Jeddah, by the way. You wanted her from a different area, and she is almost from a different region altogether. Your family will never see her, and your marriage will be safe. I will take you to see her. Remember, I take my gift firsthand when you hand over the dowry.”

“Of course,” said Saad.

The next day, Saad met his friends in the desert. Winter was coming, and everyone was getting ready to go traveling for hunting purposes. People enjoyed traveling to Algeria, Sudan, Iraq, Tajikistan, and Africa. Hunting was always a passion amongst men of the region, an addiction that, once acquired, was difficult to resist. The thrill of bagging a gazelle or fetching a net full of fish was something the hunter alone could appreciate and take pride in.

Ironically, the focus on the trigger and the fallen game had a peaceful, hypnotic allure all its own, one that did not include matters such as “We have to find a new maid
because the old one had to leave urgently due to a death in the family” or, “Your son is in detention and you must attend a fifteen-minute meeting with the principal.” He could be a caveman, and no one would judge him because he had cut his finger from a falcon struggling with a hunted pheasant. He could be a care-free child in the playground, winning as many tournaments as possible and celebrating amidst his clan.

“This week is my first race,” Saad told Huda after work the next Thursday. “I will go out to the desert tonight and come back on Saturday.”

Huda wished him luck.
She does not act like she will even miss me,
Saad thought to himself.
When did we become siblings and stop being husband and wife?
He was the bank, and she was the house supervisor, and that was all.

That Thursday night, the matchmaker accompanied him to meet Najwa from Jeddah. “She is the perfect candidate,” the matchmaker assured him. She had seen Najwa earlier and would not stop telling him about the sweets that she had hand-made for him. She talked about it so much that Saad worried the new wife would make him fat.

Physically, Najwa was everything he had hoped for. She did not look the age she claimed; more like ten years younger, if not fifteen. She was tall, fair, and well-proportioned. Her never having had children served her figure well. She looked clean, peaceful, and sweet. She was a bit shy, but they got along well. He chatted about his hunting trips and childhood adventures, and she spoke about the books she enjoyed reading, the funny series
that were being re-aired after Ramadan, and the excess of funny soaps to watch. She promised that she would cook him dinner whenever he visited. She amused him and warmed his heart. She did not ask about his wife, but he did mention in all honesty that he was happily married, although he and his wife lived like siblings. He stayed in it because of the kids. They agreed to get married in the morning in the presence of a religious sheikh. Everything was perfect.

The next day was Saad's dream come true. He did not know how long Najwa had been a widow, but however long it was, she had not forgotten how to please a man. She was an oasis, and he drank in her beauty. He could not believe his good fortune. She was caring and gentle, and he felt like a bull in her garden. He loved her cooking and thoroughly enjoyed his time with her.

Feeling guilty, Saad bought Huda a gift on the way home.

“You must have had good luck with your falcon,” said Huda as she unwrapped the jeweled bracelet he brought her from the airport.

“Yes, I did,” said Saad.

“Is he fast?”

“Fast, but he has stamina, too,” said Saad, proud of himself. “I just need to train him better. He is young and gets carried away. You have to be a team with your beast, otherwise he turns rogue.”

At the office, Saad was flush with newfound confidence. It was like the matchmaker said: A lot of guys talked about
it, but how many actually did it? He felt like a newborn man. Everyone noticed the spring in his step. People who had not asked for his advice in years suddenly were stopping him in the hallway to get his opinion. They said he glowed like a prince and smiled like the sun. If he was not already married, his officemates would have guessed he was a newlywed groom.

Whenever he called Najwa, she answered. He was excited, and, as much as he tried to restrain himself, he simply could not resist the temptation of calling her too much. He felt like he was drinking from the grail of youth. It was a new addiction that replaced the first addiction. The dose was stronger, and he was complete.

He traveled to Bahrain for a meeting as usual, but this time he was full of energy. Even the barista at the coffee shop noticed his new confidence. She spoke to him at length for the first time.

“You work for the government, right?” she asked.

“Yes, I do,” said Saad smiling.

“It must be good for the country to have someone in government as good and honest as you are,” said the barista, handing him his change. “Back home, too many government workers are corrupt.”

“Thank you,” said Saad not even counting his change.

“What do you do?” the barista asked.

Saad tried to make his job sound important. “I work in planning. Without someone like me, none of those building projects would go anywhere.”

The barista gave him a big smile, and he left her a larger-than-usual tip.
I might be able to have that girl
, he thought to himself. Immediately his thoughts turned to Najwa.
Ah, but there's no need now.
He had the confidence of a king.

The next time he saw Najwa was not nearly as exciting as the first. It lacked the anticipation and mystery that had existed before they met, the excitement of seeing her for the first time, and the thrill of their first contact. Najwa did not seem to put out the same effort.
Last time must have been her audition
, Saad joked to himself. Still, their time together was fantastic. Saad was more himself, and Najwa let him know she appreciated his attentiveness. They both were lonely and had found one another.

When he got home that weekend he made love to Huda as well.

“This falconry must have reawakened your youth,” Huda remarked, teasingly. “Maybe you should have gone earlier.”

Two women in one day. He felt like a thoroughbred, standing at stud. He thought of himself as Haroom Al Rasheed, a great sultan back in time with the most beautiful women and harem of the land. Then again, he thought of Sultan Sulaiman of Turkey and his many wives and harem of exotic women. Had he wanted, he could have had more wives and his own harem in a house on the side. But that would be too much responsibility, too much drama, and the women would fight over him. No, he could not have that. Plus, he could never afford so many children and their trouble, bills, sicknesses, vaccinations and family
trips. Huda and Najwa were more than enough. For now, anyway.

Saad had wondered if having a second wife would steal his affection for his original family, but it did not. He was happier and easier to be around, and everyone noticed. His children invited him to play their board games, and Huda began soliciting his opinion on household matters she had long decided for herself. He did feel pangs of guilt, but this redounded to his family's benefit as well. He was more generous to all of them and more accommodating of their wishes to make up for the stolen weekends and missed days. Their time was their time, and time away was his and Najwa's business. Everyone was happier.