Again, Amie nodded; Malik had told her how important faith was in his culture and suggested that even if it wasn’t true, it would probably be safer to call herself a believer.
Sadira seemed satisfied with this, until her face twisted to a new thought. “You know my Malik is a wealthy man?”
“I do,” Amie said, giving a small, polite laugh. She looked into Sadira’s eyes but the woman would not return the gaze. “His home here is truly lovely.”
“You like the Middle East?”
Sadira’s words were harsh; pointed. She was clearly looking for something to pick fault with. Suddenly Amie realized she must be experiencing the kind of interrogation her father put her high school boyfriends through.
“I haven’t been here long,” Amie said coolly, “but already it feels like home.”
Sadira seemed to consider this and adjusted her hijab before fingering through the jewelry in front of her. “Your engagement ring is beautiful,” she said finally, her accent bearing over her words. “American in style, but no less beautiful for it.”
“Shukran,” Amie spoke her thanks in Arabic, hoping Sadira might appreciate her attempt—she’d asked Malik to teach her several words so she could wow the locals with her efforts.
Her attempt seemed to work, and suddenly Sadira gave an ear-to-ear smile and put her hand gently on Amie’s back. “Do you work?” she asked simply.
“Yes. I run a large theater; very successful.”
“Malik says you’re a woman who knows the value of hard work,” Sadira said slowly. “Do you make a lot of money?” She laughed. “I know I shouldn’t ask these things, but I want to know everything about you.”
“I make enough, yes,” Amie grinned. It felt nice to be able to brag, even though it couldn’t be further from the truth. “It’s nice knowing that I’m financially secure.”
“Oh, but Malik!” Sadira protested, “Malik will take care of you. Tell me, will you keep working if you have children? You do want children?” She beamed and her face flushed red. “To be a grandmother, I would be honored.” She began to giggle and make tickling gestures with her hands, gushing, “Those little feet!”
Amie grinned. “Of course. We want a big family!” she exclaimed, and suddenly all of Sadira’s walls seemed to crumble down.
“You will be a beautiful mother,” Sadira said happily, running her hands through Amie’s mess of thick, chocolate-colored hair. “Look at this hair! When Malik came out, I thought he was a camel!”
“He was that hairy?” Amie giggled, making eye-contact with her faux mother-in-law.
“Oh!” Sadira joked, gesturing with her hand, as though she couldn’t describe it even if she tried. “I’ll show you pictures, you’ll be terrified! But such a handsome man he turned into.”
Amie grinned. “That he did.”
The two continued talking as they strolled around the market; Sadira talking about growing up in the Middle East, meeting her husband, who she only later found out was to become the ruling monarch. She explained to Amie how she used to work at children’s hospitals, and how she was determined to use her position to further the progressive and economic agenda. She told Amie she worked obsessively until childbearing stole her heart away. Her children were everything, and from the sounds of it, she was a fantastic mother.
To Amie’s surprise, Sadira also spoke of the rumors of Malik’s bachelor lifestyle in the USA and her disappointment in him, considering how she raised him to respect women.
By the time they’d been round all of the stalls, eventually ending up at the same jewelry vendor where they’d really started talking, there was no question as to whether Sadira enjoyed Amie’s company. The woman did nothing but laugh and share—overshare, actually—all the details of her life. She continually told Amie how beautiful she was and how she couldn’t wait to help plan their wedding. This sentiment made Amie feel a tinge of guilt, especially when Sadira insisted that since Amie’s mother wasn’t in the Middle East with her, she would take on the role as best she could.