Princess Sultana's Circle (23 page)

Many other harrowing images
now began to plague my mind. I felt certain that the young child
Heidi spent many unhappy hours weeping for her mother. Poor Afaaf
was alone in the world. And, Hussah legally belonged to a cruel
man, as did Munira.

Unable to sleep, I slipped
from bed to prepare myself a mixture of rum and cola. Nothing would
help but to drink myself into forgetfulness, I decided.

And so, I began a long
night of heavy drinking. I became so drunk that, during one trip
into my closet to conceal an empty bottle, I tripped over my long
gown and knocked over a vase. I lunged forward to catch it, but the
alcohol had slowed my movements, and the vase smashed against the
wall. In the quiet of the night, the noise of the shattering glass
vase was deafening.

When Kareem jumped from the
bed in alarm, I could not coordinate my brain and my tongue to
speak out in my defense!

Kareem was instantly aware
that his wife was so drunk that she could not speak without
slurring her words.

He shouted out in shock.
“Sultana!”

“
Oh, Allah!” I mumbled to
myself. “My sins have been discovered!”

I remember nothing else of
that moment, for I blacked out, finally obliterating the horrible
images that I had tried to drown with drink.

Chapter
Twelve

My Secret
Revealed

For long hours I stayed in
that mysterious realm of darkness when the mind closes down; no
information, new or old, is processed. I was not burdened by
sorrows, nor was I soothed by pleasing dreams. My brief respite
from reality could not last, but I had the pleasure of that
dreamless, mindless state until the sounds of the household awoke
me the following morning.

When I finally opened my
eyes in the harsh light, the first image I saw was Kareem’s face.
Suddenly, the memory of him waking up and discovering his wife in a
drunken state came back to me in a rush. Hoping to redeem last
night’s disaster with a miracle, I squeezed my eyes tightly shut
and prayed to God that what had happened the previous evening had
not occurred at all, that it was all a bad dream.

When I looked once more at
Kareem, I knew that God had not answered my prayer. Kareem’s sad,
knowing eyes peeled away any hope that my secret drinking remained
hidden from him. Without a word, my husband’s expression told me he
knew that I was in serious trouble with alcohol.

My husband’s clear voice
was deceptively calm. “Sultana, how do you feel?”

I knew full well that my
future was now forever altered, for my destiny was certain to be
that of a scorned and divorced wife. I was so filled with horror at
this thought that I could not speak.

“
Sultana?”

I squeaked, “I am not so
well, Husband.”

Kareem nodded.

We stared at each other for
a long time without speaking. Neither of us had the heart to
attempt further conversation.

In the silence, my presence
of mind slowly returned. I quickly reminded myself that I was
uncertain as to exactly how much Kareem knew of my drinking; that
perhaps I should take heed of that wise Arab proverb: “Your tongue
is your horse, and if you let it loose, it will betray
you.”

I clung to the hope that
Kareem believed my drunken state was nothing more than an
infrequent occurrence. After all, many were the times throughout
our marriage when together Kareem and I had indulged ourselves in
drink, and Kareem had never expressed displeasure of
this.

“
We need to talk,
Sultana.”

I remained
quiet.

Dropping his gaze, Kareem
rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I have not slept all
night.” With a tired sigh, he looked at me once more. “I have been
wondering how you managed to hide this drinking problem from me,
and for so long.”

I asked, in that same
squeaking tone of voice, “Drinking problem?”

Ignoring this question,
Kareem continued to stare at me as he softly spoke words that I did
not wish to hear.

“
Please do not consume our
time trying to prove your innocence when you are clearly guilty. I
have already spoken with Sara. I now know that you often drink to
excess when I am away.”

It was no use to deny it.
By the anguished look on his face, I knew Kareem had learned the
truth. At the pain of that thought, my chest tightened.

I began to weep. “Nothing
will ever be the same again,” I cried out, wringing my hands.
Already, I could imagine the cruel gossip about me that would
spread rapidly throughout the large extended Al Sa’ud family. My
reputation was forever ruined!

“
You cry like a child for
what you cannot defend as a woman?”

Kareem’s words struck me
like a sharp dagger, yet I could not stop weeping. The worst had
happened! My desperate need for alcohol had been found out, and I
was truly lost. Kareem would divorce me. My children would be
humiliated by the scandal. My hated brother, Ali, would be elated
that my life had taken a turn for the worse. And my elusive father
would feel justified in his dislike of the youngest child born of
his first wife, Fadeela, even more that he already did. My sobs
became even more heartfelt.

My earnest cries softened
Kareem’s heart. He rose and walked toward me. He sat down on the
edge of the bed and began to push my long hair away from my face.
“Darling, I am not angry at you,” he said. “I am angry at
myself.”

I stared in confusion at
Kareem. “Why are you angry at yourself?” I sputtered.

“
I failed to see what was
in front of me.” He thoughtfully wiped the tears from my face. “Had
I not been so occupied with business, I would have been aware of
your problem long ago. Please forgive me, Sultana.”

Relief swept over me.
Kareem was willing to take my burden upon his shoulders. He blamed
himself, and not me. I had been saved, once again!

Reckless with the thought
of yet another unearned reprieve, I was eager to agree with Kareem,
and say that, yes, he had been much too occupied with business
matters. He had neglected me, his wife. Just as I opened my mouth
to express my smugness and feeling of victory, abruptly, I felt the
closeness of my mother’s spirit in the room. I gasped as I looked
around. Although I could not see Mother, I instinctually knew that
she was here, witnessing this encounter between my husband and
me.

“
Sultana, are you all
right?” With a look of great concern, he gently stroked my face
with his hand.

I nodded, yet still could
not utter a sound. The essence of Mother was becoming even
stronger. I cannot express the terror I felt when I was struck with
the absolute knowledge that I was undergoing some manner of a trial
like no other, and that much more was expected of me than my usual
immature reactions. A small, silent voice told me that if I were
ever again to know genuine peace and joy, I must change my
behavior.

Long moments passed before
I could speak. Looking straight at my husband, I said, “Kareem, I
will no longer seek shameful victories. My own weakness, not yours,
has created this dilemma. You are blameless. So, erase this worry
from your face, Husband. I alone am responsible for my
drinking.”

There! I had said it! For
once in my life, I had not taken the easy means of escape regarding
my personal imperfections. Kareem was shocked, as was I, at my new
mature accountability.

I smiled at my husband. “I
promise that from this moment, I will make every effort to defeat
this problem.”

Kareem took me in his arms.
“Darling, together we will defeat this problem.”

Indeed, being in Kareem’s
loving arms was a great consolation. I did so want to defeat my
vexing cravings for alcohol with all its lies and secrecy. Brimming
with hope and optimism, my mood quickly became joyful.

Later, Kareem went to find
Asad, who was staying at our Jeddah palace with Sara.

Wishing to speak with my
sister, I rang through to the guest suite and spoke with Sara on
the palace intercom. We agreed to meet in the women’s
garden.

After embracing my sister,
I quickly confided everything that had happened between Kareem and
me. Sara was openly happy for me and praised my courage.

She said, “You should have
unburdened your troubles to your husband at the first hint of
trouble. I knew that Kareem would not react as you said he might.”
She paused before speaking. “You should have seen him last evening,
Sultana. He was completely distraught when he learned that your
greatest fear was that he might desert you at your greatest time of
need.”

I tried to persuade my
sister to tell me everything Kareem had said about me, and our
marriage, but Sara refused. My husband had spoken to her in
confidence.

“
We are two fortunate
women, Sultana,” she reminded me gently. “We both married men who
are wonderful husbands.” She paused before admitting, “In this
land, such men are as rare as flawless diamonds.”

I thought about Sara’s
words. What she said was true. Certainly, Asad was a husband unlike
any other. He adored my sister. Since the first moment Asad’s eyes
had seen Sara, no other woman had existed for this former playboy.
Sara was the luckiest of women.

And while Kareem had
greatly disappointed me on more than one occasion, those painful
events had occurred a long time ago. As the years had passed,
Kareem had grown into a supportive and loving husband and father.
I, too, was a fortunate woman.

After giving my sister a
second heartfelt embrace, I returned to my bedroom suite. Kareem
walked into the room a few moments later, and with a wide smile, he
said that he had an idea that he thought I might like.

I rushed toward my husband
and pulled him toward me. He stumbled from the force of my embrace,
and we tumbled backward together onto the bed.

Kareem attempted to speak
even as I continued to kiss his lips, his eyes, and his nose.
“Sultana, I…”

Just knowing that I had a
second chance to redeem my life, I felt like the thief who is told
he is going to lose his hand, only to discover that the swordsman
has died, and he has been reprieved. I felt so relieved and joyful
that I kissed Kareem until he forgot what idea he wanted to
discuss. Soon we were involved in ardent lovemaking.

Later, after Kareem lit a
cigarette and passed it back and forth between us, he asked, “What
was that all about?”

I teased, “Am I not allowed
to show my husband how much I love him?”

He smiled. “Of course,
darling. Anytime you are so overwhelmed with this love, call
me.”

I laughed, “Who else would
I call?”

Kareem held the cigarette
up in the air as he contentedly nuzzled my face with his. “And, I
love you, too, darling.”

Kareem placed the cigarette
between my lips and waited for me to inhale before placing it once
more between his own lips.

“
What was that idea you
spoke of?”

“
Oh, yes. I have been
thinking today that it has been a long time since we took a trip
into the desert, together, as a family.” His eyes searched my face
for my reaction. “I believe that you, Sultana, most of all, would
benefit from a desert journey into our past.”

What he said was true.
While Kareem and Abdullah often joined their royal cousins for
jaunts into the desert for hawking and hunting trips, rarely did my
daughters and I make such excursions. Thinking back, I realized
that it had been several years since our family had retreated to
the desert. In the past, such journeys into a simpler way of life,
not governed by clocks and calendars had brought great mental
relaxation to me.

I could not conceal my
feelings. “Yes,” I said, “the desert. I would like that,
Kareem.”

Although we Saudi Arabs now
dwell in ornate palaces and modern cities, we have not forgotten
that our recent ancestors were tribal nomads who once lived in
tents. Actually, today, there are few nomads moving back and forth
across the vast Arabian deserts. For the past twenty years or more,
the Saudi government has encouraged Bedouin tribesmen to abandon
their tents and move into the cities. Yet all Saudi Arabians carry
the tribal memory of nomadic travelers in their blood. And although
the Al Sa’ud family abandoned the desert long before many of our
countrymen, we are no different from other Saudis when it comes to
an unrestrained love of the desert.

In 1448 AD, early members
of the Al Sa’ud clan withdrew from the harsh desert and began to
cultivate the land around the settlement known today as Diriya. The
men in our family became successful farmers and traders; in time,
they became what are known as city Arabs. Therefore, we Al Sa’uds
do not consider ourselves to be nomads, yet we are inexplicably
drawn to the magnet what is, to us, an irresistible sea of endless
and sweeping sand.

Kareem interrupted my
agreeable musings.

“
We will make a family
event of this trip.” He said as he watched me. “We will invite
everyone.”