Princess: Stepping Out of the Shadows, стр. 55
Maha could no longer hold her laughter. ‘Those eyebrows! I have seen them!’
Even Amani was smiling. ‘I have seen those monkeys, too.’
Dalal chimed in, ‘Those Russian eyebrows could be given to some of those organizations that take donations for patients who have lost their hair to chemotherapy.’
Maha agreed. ‘Yes, those brows are bushy enough to make a full bob.’
‘Surely they could pluck them,’ a kindly Munira suggested, causing Maha to double over with laughter before falling out of her chair.
‘At times like this, I am soooooooo happy to be a lesbian,’ Maha screamed.
‘Maha, please,’ I warned her.
‘Everyone knows, Mother.’
‘Well, you don’t have to shout about it,’ Amani said, despite the fact she was choking back tears from stifling her desire to laugh.
‘Now, for his love-making skills! He has so much of everything else, from a big head to huge lips to bushy brows, where did his important equipment hide when the size large was offered?’
‘Stop it, Dalal, you are killing me,’ Maha shouted.
Dalal’s savage indictment of her husband created such a riot of hilarity that ten or eleven of our female servants rushed into the courtyard to see if all was well. ‘Madam, we believed there was a revolt.’
‘Ladies,’ Dalal said, ‘there is no revolt here, but there is a revolution! A revolution has begun! Saudi women will no longer linger in bad marriages. Saudi women will kill their abusers. Saudi women are tired of Saudi men! Believe me, ladies, if you saw my husband you would help to start a revolt. A revolt to force the man to wear a mask.’
Maha shouted, ‘The Saudi in the iron mask! There should be a movie made about a man so physically repulsive that his wife makes him wear an iron mask!’ Maha’s comment brought to mind the movie The Man in the Iron Mask, which created another round of loud laughter.
Dalal, I decided, was sharing Maha’s ‘juice’ – which was very unwise!
Amani’s austere manner was starting to show. ‘Please, Dalal, please. He is your husband. You must show respect.’
‘Easy for you to say, dear cousin. Your mother found you a very handsome husband who is also intelligent and kind.’
Amani looked at me and smiled. ‘Thank you, Mummy.’
Despite Amani’s stern ways, when she calls me mummy in her sweet voice I am stricken by love for my youngest child.
‘Well,’ Dalal continued, ‘the most unattractive man in the world is so arrogant and has been raised by his family to believe that he is a gift to the world – he believes that I should be so grateful to share his bed that he insults me at every turn when I try to escape his embraces. He wants me all the time. I want him none of the time. Our marriage has turned into a sham; we have nothing but mutual hatred for each other. I must have a divorce, or I fear I might commit a crime.’
‘Dalal, dear,’ Sara said, ‘you do not have to commit a crime. You will get your divorce. While divorce is often a sad and unhappy process, in this case I believe it is necessary. We will do what we can to assist you in making this happen, Dalal. Meanwhile, you can live in our home and we will protect you.’
‘What crime?’ Munira asked nervously. ‘What crime are you thinking to commit, Dalal?’
Dalal regarded her cousin with true affection. ‘You are one of the sweetest women ever to live, Munira. I know what you endured makes my marriage seem a bed of roses. I am sorry to make light of all these problems, but hatred will drive a person to commit a serious crime.’
‘You are going to kill him?’ Munira asked in a whisper.
With a face blank of emotion, Dalal said, ‘No, darling, I am going to trim those eyebrows.’
‘That is all right, then.’ Munira looked relieved. None of us had the heart to tell her that indeed Dalal was considering physical violence.
By this time Maha was hysterical with laughter.
Dalal and Maha began laughing and plotting with enjoyment, while Sara and Munira were whispering about one thing or another. Amani was watching everyone closely, for she rarely enjoys a foolish evening. My daughter, always serious, truly does not know how to have fun.
I sat quietly and stared, reflecting on each of the women who was my relative and my guest. All were magnificent and courageous women.
Sara had overcome the most brutal marriage to find true love and absolute happiness. With Assad, she has the happiest and soundest relationship of any I have known.
Munira, too, had survived the beatings and abuse of a brutish man. While she would not find true love, for she had intentionally closed the door on that possibility, she was at least happy with her children and grandchildren and with her travels.
Dalal was the unfortunate recipient of an arranged marriage gone bad. But Dalal was going to thrive. With the assistance of her family, she would be granted a divorce. I felt certain that she would be married again one day and would have children. This bushy-browed bully of a man would be reduced to a very unpleasant error and failure in her life, all brought about by the fact that women have no power to choose their own destiny in this land – whether in the relationships they make or the work they do. So much power rests with others. But Dalal would survive.
While my childhood was emotionally abusive due to my father and my brother Ali, I too had survived intact. And my marriage was one to be envied. Although Kareem and I had had a few rocky years in the beginning, we had healed all wounds and now mainly knew joy in our marriage.
Amani was a happily married girl with a kindly and devoted husband, a man who refused to be the tyrant that I felt Amani believed men should be.
Maha would never marry a man,