EIGHTEEN
The morning sun warmed Sadiq’s face and he put a hand to his head to shield his eyes from the glare. He rolled over, searching for Hannah with his arms, but his hands found only the cool spot where she had been sleeping hours before. He sat up and looked around the room frantically, his eyes scanning the bedroom for any sign of her.
He jumped out of bed and flung open the doors to the sitting room, feeling the air rush out of his lungs as he looked to the door and saw her bags gone. Only then did he look at the clock on the wall and realize that her flight hadn’t left yet.
A wave of relief washed over him and he ran to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He checked out his messy hair in the mirror and tried his best to comb it into submission, his heart dancing in his chest as he did. He figured Hannah must have just gotten up early and was probably downstairs waiting for him. That’s when he saw the check sitting on the nightstand. He slumped onto the edge of the bed, picked up the note sitting on top of the check and read it.
He sat for a long time just staring at the paper, going over and over the short note. That was it? That was all she was going to say, that it had been a great experience? What kind of goodbye was that? What kind of thing was that to say after you spent six weeks getting to know someone, sharing intimate secrets, making love?
Sadiq crumpled the note and threw it back on the bed, anger rising in his chest. He glanced back at the door and knew that the bags and Hannah would not be waiting for him downstairs. To confirm it, he checked his cellphone sitting on the other nightstand; there were two messages from Naasir, one to say that he would be driving Hannah to the airport at her request, the second asking if there was anything Naasir could do for him.
He threw the phone on the bed and fell back into the covers, letting the sun heat his bare chest. How could he have been so stupid, he thought to himself. How could he have let his guard down like that? How could he have let himself believe that Hannah was different?
He got up to get a glass of water and the room started to spin. Sadiq made it as far as the sitting area and then fell into a chair, holding his head in his hands. She was different, he told himself. She had been kind, authentic, fun, full of life and curiosity. And she had left the money. She was different in so many ways, but still she had hurt him to the core.
He had felt like this before, when he refused to go through with a marriage his parents had arranged for him. It happened six yea
rs before, when Sadiq was 22. He was about to graduate Yale and was ready to embark on a life of his own, but his parents had arranged a marriage to a wealthy young girl from El-Shakanish, a girl that would be perfectly suited for Sadiq and would unite two powerful families.
Sadiq, however, had different ideas. He didn’t want to get married. He didn’t want to settle down, so he did what any young man would do, he rebelled. Instead of moving back to El-Shakanish, Sadiq moved from New Haven, Connecticut to an apartment in New York City and started working as a financier for his family’s holdings in the United States, much to his parents’ discontent.
All of these thoughts ran through Sadiq’s mind as he debated whether or not to call Hannah. He was hurting, but tried to put himself in her shoes. Maybe she was hurt, too. Maybe she too was confused by what happened between them. Maybe she was scared of letting him down. Sadiq felt a glimmer of hope and knew that if he talked to her, he might be able to convince her to come back. He got up and walked over to his phone and began to dial when he was interrupted with an unexpected call.
Sadiq looked at the number and balked. His father hadn’t called him in over three years, ever since they had realized Sadiq was serious about not going through with the marriage. His mother had tried to avoid Sadiq, but only in front of his father. When she could, she would sneak away and come to visit him. Now his father was calling him directly and he didn’t know why.
“Hello?” Sadiq said slowly, unsure of what to expect.
“Sadiq? Is that you?”
His jaw tightened as he heard his father’s voice through the phone. “Yes, it’s me. What is it, father?” He cut straight to the chase, assuming that if his father was calling, something bad must have happened.
“It’s your mother. Come to the island. Come right away.”
***
Sadiq went straight to the airport where another jet from the royal fleet was waiting to take him to his parents’ island home. He arrived at the palace to find his mother, Amira, ill in bed and his father, Mehdi, at her bedside. After the initial awkward tension, Sadiq’s father got up, hugged him, and left the room.
“Come here, my son,” Amira said.
“Mother,” Sadiq said, with tears in his eyes. “You’re going to be all right. I know you will.”
A few weeks before, Amira had been diagnosed with a serious heart condition and her health was precarious. She was under doctor’s care and had been instructed to stay in bed for several weeks. Sadiq was taken aback at how ashen her face looked. She was drawn and thin and her long dark hair hung limply on the pillow beneath her.
“Yes, I’ll be fine, my son.” She looked at Sadiq’s face. “But what about you?”
Sadiq sat down in the chair next to the bed. He looked to the door to make sure it was closed tightly before looking back at his mother.
“Did she go?” Amira asked.
Sadiq nodded. He had been in touch with his mother constantly over the past six weeks and knew he couldn’t hide anything from her. Even though his father would object to him bringing a American singer to El-Shakanish, his mother thought it was wonderful.
Each time she had spoken to him on the phone, Amira had sensed a difference in her son. He seemed lighter, freer, and happier than she had ever seen him. She had sensed that Hannah was having a dramatically positive effect on Sadiq, but she also knew that her son was very guarded and she had been worried that that might cause problems for the two of them.
Now, seeing the sadness in his eyes, she knew he had been hurt. “Oh my dear son. I’m so sorry,” she said, stroking his thick hair.
“It’s not her fault, Mother. It’s mine. I was an idiot. I was insensitive. I was…”
“Shh, now. Listen to me.” Amira tilted her son’s face up and looked him straight in the eye. “We are not a family of weaklings. We have survived famines, drought and war. We do not give up. Do you hear me?”
Sadiq nodded.
“Do you love this girl?”
Sadiq didn’t know what to say. “I don’t know, Mother. I’ve never loved anyone before; I don’t know what it feels like.”
His mother clapped her hands above her head and laughed. “Ha! Then you are in love. If it’s something you’ve never felt before and you’re feeling it now—it must be love!”
A smile crept over Sadiq’s face and he felt his heart lighten.
“Now,” Amira continued, “if you love this girl, you must go after her. Don’t give up, remember?”