Forbidden Love (9 page)

her secrets. \020I ran out to the front desk, the list of numbers clutched tightly in my fist, to start making the calls.

There were plenty of schools in Shmeisani with beginner classes on Friday and Saturday early evenings, which would be ideal. Our brothers would be watching football when we were supposed to be in class. The tuition cost far less than we’d thought it would. It wouldn’t bankrupt us.

Now, we had only a few more barriers to get through. First, we had to lure Suhal to the salon on his way home from work, and make him our advocate. Pleading that some urgent matter had come up that she wanted his guidance on, Dalia would call on his duty as elder brother to protect and guide her.

An angry mother with a fussy, crying child arrived for a haircut, and our workday officially began.

We worked side by side all morning, barely saying a word and nodding an expected reply here and there in response to a customer’s question. Both of us were thinking about what we would say to Suhal. We were trying to figure out how much we should tell him about the classes. We didn’t want to say too much because it would make our plan even riskier. The less our families knew, the better. We didn’t want them calling the school to check up on us. We knew that in order to be successful we had to use a mix of careful preparation, great prudence, and a little audacity.

By two, we were starved after keeping our minds working so hard. Food! We hurriedly locked the doors and went to the break room for lunch. I grabbed the container of maqlubeh (steamed rice topped with slices of aubergine, meat, tomato

and roasted pine nuts) and tossed it into the microwave, and then we started planning our script for Suhal. We rehearsed, edited, and recast our strategy a dozen times in the next half-hour.

Suddenly Dalia said, “Norma, let’s stop talking about it, it’s making me nervous and I don’t want to think about it any more. The more I think about it, the greater chance I’ll have of messing up. Let’s just eat our lunch in peace.”

This was the first time we’d taken such an elaborate risk; we were escalating our conspiracy to a new level, dramatically increasing the chance of being found out. We finished our lunch in silence, each of us afraid to say anything more.

Suhal walked in at six fifteen, and as soon as we saw him our insides froze. “Salem al laykum (peace unto you),” he said as he entered. After the greetings, he followed us into the break room where I began making coffee while he and Dalia sat on the couch.

“What seems to be the problem?” he asked Dalia.

“Well, Suhal, I chose to come to you with this because I believe that since you’re a teacher you’ll understand the importance of this better than the others. You know, Norma and I spent a lot of money on our computer. And, well, we can’t operate it well enough to use it properly. Since we’ve already made the investment in the computer, Norma and her family have decided that it would be wise for her to take

some classes at a school in Shmeisani. What do you think?” \020”Well, if her family has already agreed to it, then I don’t see anything wrong with it. I’ve never thought you needed a computer in the salon, but now that it’s here, she might as well learn how to use it.”

I thought so too. I was hoping to accompany her to the classes, since we both need to know how to use the computer.

Do you think it’s wise to consider such a thing? I wanted to get your opinion first, because if you think it’s not wise, then I’d rather not bother Dad with it.”

“When are these classes? Who will be taking her? When do they start?” he asked. I took that as my cue to join in. I served him coffee, and proceeded to lie more blatantly than I had ever lied in my life. To me, this seemed the point of no return for Dalia and me. If we succeeded with Suhal, the first major physical acts of betrayal would soon begin.

“Suhal, if I may speak, I’ll tell you what I know, but since my father has arranged all the details, I’m afraid that all I can tell you is that the classes will be held on Friday and Saturday afternoons. Of course, I must abide by the same curfew as Dalia, and I’m certain that my father has considered that while planning this. Also, one of my brothers will be dropping us off and picking us up. The only time we’ll be unaccompanied is while we’re in the classroom. I’m certain that my father is placing me in a class of girls. My father will pay the tuition, and I believe that Dalia should also know how to run the computer in case I’m not around. She can maintain all her client information on it. My father thinks it’s a shame to let the money we spent on the computer go to waste.”

He pondered, taking his role as guardian very seriously. “Well, I don’t see any problem with Dalia attending classes with you, and I’ll do what I can to get my father to agree. I can speak to my father tonight. To reassure him, I’ll offer to take both of you to the school on Friday and enrol you myself. I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

“Thank you, Suhal. Thank you so much. I knew you’d understand, and I appreciate you talking to Dad on my behalf,” Dalia said.

“One down, one to go,” she whispered as we tidied up to

leave. “Are you sure we can convince your dad? Let’s say an

extra prayer.”

I don’t think either of us slept that night. I jumped every time the phone rang, thinking it was Dalia’s father calling to confirm what Suhal had told him. I felt guilty about the day’s deception and hated the idea of repeating it in the morning. I knew that Dalia was

struggling with the same emotions. \020In the morning my father entered the kitchen at his usual hour. I served him his coffee, and began setting the stage for

Dalia’s arrival.

“Daddy, Dalia and I have something we need to discuss with you. Would it be OK to do it this morning? Will you have

time?” I asked.

“Sure, I’ll be on the veranda. Bring my breakfast out there,”

he said and left the kitchen.

When Dalia arrived we locked ourselves in my room and quickly went over the details of our plan. We managed to suppress our fears while we talked to my father, and in the end he agreed to let me enrol.

There was just one more element to the plan. We didn’t want to ask for an escort because then they might find out that we’d lied to them and so we decided that on the days we had classes, I would ask to walk to Dalia’s home, and she would ask to walk to mine. Then we could meet halfway and take a taxi to school and back.

Suhal enrolled us in school that Friday and we paid the tuition. The classes would run for the next nine months.

That Monday, we called Jehan and told her our news, and began planning our first meeting for the following Friday. We went over every detail to ensure that we would not be caught and drew up a list of official ground rules’. No one, other than the four of us, could ever know anything about these meetings.

We must meet at places none of our families went to. Dalia would remove her shar’ia attire during the encounters to look like a Christian girl. In public places Dalia and Michael would refer to each other as brother and sister. Either Jehan or I would always be nearby, to provide cover if needed. And, finally, we must attend some of the classes to show our fathers and brothers that we were learning something.

We planned to meet at the 1001 Nights restaurant in the Le Meridian Hotel in Shmeisani for the first outing.

Friday afternoon, at five, we left our homes and headed to our meeting point. The moment of truth had arrived and we felt panicked.

We found a taxi quickly, out of sight of all our relatives and nosy neighbours. Sitting in the back seat of the cab, we looked in every direction, double-checking that no one had seen us. We arrived at the school, and went into the classroom for attendance. Ten minutes into the class, we asked to be excused, saying that we didn’t feel well. In the restroom, I took the clothes we’d chosen for Dalia out of my gym bag. She changed and then we walked out of the school, around the corner to the Le Meridian Hotel, and up to the 1001 Nights restaurant to find Michael and Jehan.

They were sitting at one of the back tables and when we arrived they stood up. Michael’s eyes lit up when he saw Dalia, and he had to restrain himself from embracing her. She, on the other hand, blushed, smiled, and lowered her eyes to the floor. With the formalities out of the way, we sat down and began discussing the details of what we still had to do. We enjoyed a tray of mixed pastries and coffee while we talked and laughed like any group of friends would. For that short time we forgot all our fears and worries, and focused on the fact that we Were all together.

During the cab ride home Dalia and I couldn’t stop talking about what a wonderful time we’d had, and how amazing it was that something as natural and delightful as an afternoon out with friends was forbidden. As we neared our drop-off point, our anxiety began to build, but this time it was mixed with the satisfaction of having succeeded better than we could have dreamed.

With each success, our courage and confidence would grow, with a slight and parallel dilution of our fear. It may have been only pastries and coffee, but this taste of ordinary freedom had been too delicious to stop now. We had travelled two miles by taxi, but we had entered a different world.

In the two months following that first afternoon with Michael and Jehan, we managed to arrange six meetings: three at 1001 Nights; two at La Coquette, where we tried genuine French food; and one at La Terrasse, where we heard live music as we ate our pastries. We grew a little more confident with each successful encounter and were having loads of fun. Life was exciting and we were savouring every moment. We felt freer than we’d ever felt before. We were like children tasting chocolate for the first time and we couldn’t get enough. When we met, Jehan and I chatted, trying to give Dalia and Michael as much privacy as we could.

Later, Dalia and I would explode with the experience. “Norma, this is so incredible. Did you even think that Amman had such wonderful restaurants? They’re so beautiful and elegant. Did you see how many people were there? Most of them didn’t even speak Arabic. It was like being in a different world.”

“I know, it’s so wonderful. I’ll bet our mothers have never

seen anything like them, or even imagined them. I wish we could take

them to one of those restaurants.” \020”Our brothers probably don’t even know those places exist. I mean, most of the Arabic-speaking people are employed there or are Arabs meeting foreigners for business. I hope our brothers never go there, but I would like to share it with our mums.”

“And at our first French restaurant, it felt so different, didn’t it? No one was watching us, or noticing how we were dressed. Everyone was minding his or her own business. It was great. It made me feel comfortable and free.”

“Yeah, although the fact that you were speaking English helped. They probably thought you were foreign and we were entertaining you.”

“Oh, come on, I don’t look foreign, I look Arabic. I just think that people are more open-minded in those places, maybe because they’re used to seeing foreigners.”

“Could be. It’s not as if you and Michael act like anything more than brother and sister.”

“I can’t wait until next week.”

We’d told our computer teacher that we could only attend Saturday’s classes, explaining that we were the only girls in houses full of men and so had too many household responsibilities on Fridays. Since we’d told him that we were only taking the classes for our personal use, and not for our business skills, he didn’t mind if we missed the Friday classes.

I could see that Dalia was falling more and more in love with Michael and, since the men in our families were busy watching football, we had no reason to think they would check up on us, at least until March. Mohammed had been spending his days with his new friends, so we also had plenty of privacy at the salon.

Things became a little more difficult in November because of the upcoming holidays. The fourteenth of November is a public holiday in Jordan, celebrating King Hussein’s birthday, and Bid al Isra Wai Mi’raj, an Islamic holiday that marks the prophet Mohammed’s nocturnal visit to heaven and the visions God revealed to him, immediately follows it. After that, of course, it was Christmas. Dalia had a lot to prepare for Bid al Isra Wai Mi’raj. Every year her extended family came together at her home for a night of gift-giving and feasting. She had to help her mother with everything, from preparing their home to arranging the menu. She also had to buy gifts for her family, which took up most of her free time. I had to do many of the same things before Christmas and so the lie we’d told our instructor about Friday classes became true in November and December. During these two months, most of our free time was wasted waiting in checkout lines and fighting through hordes of pushy bargain hunters.

The entire time, our brothers escorted us. We didn’t see how we would be able to keep going on our Friday afternoon adventures, but we vowed to try to find a way. We hoped to convince our families to let us keep going to our classes on Fridays and so we closed the salon on Thursdays in order to give us enough time to do our chores. It seemed a reasonable solution, and our fathers let us try it.

After a few weeks, we realized that we’d have to give up some Friday afternoons so we could get everything done. But we didn’t waste any time complaining; instead we spent every free second talking about

Michael. \020”I like a lot of things about Michael,” Dalia said one day when we were sitting on the couch in the break room, drinking a hot cup of tea, and talking.

“Like what?” I said.

“Well, for starters, he’s absolutely gorgeous, but that’s beside the point. What I really like is the fact that he’s kind, understanding, and intelligent.”

“He does seem to be gentle and kind. What else have you discovered while Jehan and I have been talking?”

“He has a law degree and is planning to become an attorney once he finishes his tour in the Royal Guard. He loves art, like me, and he loves to read. It’s so easy to talk to him. I mean there are times when I think we can read each other’s minds; we’re so much alike. Also, he’s travelled, much more than we probably ever will.”