“What will be enough for you, habibti?”
“If you have to ask, it just shows how impossible any of this is.”
“I’m not a damned mind reader, so tell me!”
“I want everything! I want this to be real, okay? I want to be your wife because you want me. Not me, a Hassan. Not me, a baby incubator. Me, Amy, a woman you choose to have at your side. A woman you desire, sure, but more importantly, a woman you respect. A woman you love.” My voice cracks, but having started this I know I need to finish. “I hoped, for a time, that maybe, just maybe, that was possible. But it’s not, is it? Not after what my dad did to you. How could you ever love me, Zahir? How can you ever not hate me?”
“I don’t hate you,” he says sharply, frowning, trying to unwrap my statement. “And I’ve already told you that almost from the first moment we met I have been able to separate you from your father’s acts.”
My heart stammers then leaps, hope an unconquerable optimist. I hold my breath. But too much time passes. He doesn’t say anything else. There are no other assurances. He doesn’t have to say it, I hear the words anyway. He doesn’t love me, and never will.
18
Zahir
I AM FILLED WITH A BLINDING light. Love? That’s not part of this! It never was. Amy’s words are like tiny bombs exploding through me. I have never sought her love. I don’t want it. I don’t want love to be any part of what we’re doing.
I like her.
And she’s wrong, I do respect her.
But my only love is for my kingdom, my people. It’s the only way I know how to rule.
“Are you saying you’re in love with me?”
It’s the wrong thing to ask, obviously. Her heard jerks backwards, her eyes glinting in her face.
“Oh, yes, I’m saying I love you, but don’t mistake me, there are times when I also really, really hate you too.”
Despite everything, I want to smile at that, because it’s such a classic Amy response. Her fire is one of the things that first drew me to her. She has always spoken to me in a way that is unique, and I do love that.
“How did this happen?”
Her laugh is a tight sound that jars my spine. “I don’t know, Zahir. Don’t ask me. I just…fell in love with you.”
“But…how? Why?” It makes no sense.
; She turns away from me and I resent it. I don’t want her to hide from me, to hide away from me.
“Amy?” It’s a sharp demand.
She doesn’t turn so I grab her hand, pulling on it, turning her back to face me. “I don’t want to upset you, I just need to understand so we can work through this.”
“Work through this?” She shouts, her voice reverberating off the walls. “My loving you shouldn’t be – my God. I knew it was a long shot but I had no idea it would be such a problem for you.” She glares at me for several seconds then stalks towards the door. “I’m leaving. If you’re looking for a ‘just sex, no strings’ night of pleasure, why don’t you consider reinstituting the harem tradition? I’m sure there are any number of women who’d be happy to give you exactly the kind of relationship you want.”
Her words fall between us like rocks, and then she’s gone. I let her go. I don’t fight her anymore. There’s too much to take on board, too much to comprehend, and I’m completely, utterly blindsided.
Amy
I cry as the car slides through the ancient city, the beautiful lights not holding my attention, nothing sinking in except the awful confrontation with Zahir. Damn it, why did I have to say anything to him?
I didn’t have a choice. Seeing him again, it had all just bubbled over until I was hurling my feelings at his feet and expecting him to what exactly? Return them? I knew he wouldn’t, so was I doing it to push a barb between us, something we’d never be able to recover from? He’s been trying to find a middle ground – leaving me here in peace, to live on my own, only asking for my company when absolutely necessary. I’m the one who’s broken this. I’m the one who’s wanted too much, demanded too much. I’m the one who fell in love. Whatever the terms of our marriage were, I’m the only one who’s scratched at them until they no longer bore shape.
I think of the egg analogy suddenly, and more tears fall.
It was such a beautiful story, a tradition that is humble and true, and I imagine now that if our marriage were an egg, it would be cracked beyond repair. Who knew love could be such a destructive force?