11
“There’s no way,” she’d said when they got into a silver Range Rover and headed from the Royal Airport directly for the banks of the Golden Oasis. “There’s no way you’re serious. This is part of some weird act of yours. Just like the kidnapping. There’s no way . . . I mean . . . God, I can’t even . . .”
“You have questions, I presume,” he’d asked, regaining his composure and putting on a pair of Porsche Design sunglasses as the smooth Range Rover pulled off the pebbled highway and onto the open sand without missing a beat.
“Questions? Um, why, yes, I do have questions!” she’d replied through a jaw that was clenched so tight she could already feel the headache coming in. “Setting aside the issue of how ridiculous this scheme is, the biggest question is why me? Of all the people in the world, why me? You don’t know me. Ephraim doesn’t know me. I’m not Arab, not even Middle Eastern!” She sucked in a breath and shook her head. “Also, I’m not insane.”
The Sheikh had taken a breath and lowered his sunglasses as he glanced down at her. “Everything you said is true except the last bit.”
She laughed and shook her head, crossing her arms beneath her breasts and turning away from him, staring out at the sand dunes whipping by like golden waves. “I must be insane if I’m still here,” she muttered.
“Exactly, Jan. I could have had this conversation with you in Dubai, in a conference room or at a dinner table. But instead I barged in on you in the restroom, saying things that were alarming at best, terrifying at worst. Then I drugged and kidnapped you. And then I . . . I mean we . . . I mean, Jan, you understand why I chose to start all of this in the most extreme, extraordinary, dramatic way I could think of, yes? I had to break us out of the ordinary world, take us into a world of madness and chaos, where the ridiculous is real, the nonsensical is normal.” His voice softened, and it sent a tremble through her, making her think of that mad, chaotic, nonsensical encounter on the plane. “That is the world in which true attraction lives. True arousal. You know it. You felt it. And you reached for it, just like I did. True attraction, which is the only way this can work.”
She’d taken a breath and slowly turned back to him. She thought for a moment, remembering the wild attraction that had consumed her on the plane, remembering what she’d said to him when he’d offered to stop, remembering the way he’d gone so damned hard and lost control when she’d said it even as she got wetter and hotter than she’d thought possible. “Yes,” she said, trying her best to act like a cool-headed professor with a goddamn PhD. “I’ve studied the psychology of sexual attraction. And I do understand that attraction can’t be a negotiation. It’s not about logic and clear thought. It has to be felt. That’s the reason we use the word arousal. It has to be awakened. Brought out. Torn out if need be.” She blinked three times, not sure if she could look into his eyes. “You believe this would only work if the attraction is real. Real attraction.” She’d made herself look at him then, and it had sent a tingle down through the seam of her body, making her buttocks tighten, her thighs clench, the hairs on her neck bristle as the world began to spin again. “Real attraction between you and me.” Another breath as she allowed herself to think of what he was asking. “And real attraction between me and him. Sheikh Ephraim. A man I’ve never met. A man who you yourself said was the evil Sheikh in this story.”
Darius had put his sunglasses back on, and Jan could tell it was so she wouldn’t see the surprise in his eyes. Surprise, but also admiration. And something else. A look that told her so much. A look that said he already felt possessive over her, and that it wouldn’t be easy for him even if she did agree to proceed.
But how to even proceed? What was next?
She’d stayed quiet as the car pulled up and stopped beneath the shade of a cluster of majestic date-palms, just steps away from the serene waters of the Golden Oasis. And when she stepped out of the car and glanced over the massive oasis, Jan understood why he’d brought her directly here even as he laid out his proposition. There was an energy to these waters. A surreal, magical flow to the air around it. She felt it. It was old, palpable, real. There was something both disturbing and tranquil about this place, like this oasis was a fulcrum, a point of balance, something upon which great forces of mystery and wonder rested in harmony. But a harmony that was delicate, that could unleash something dark if disturbed. Jan wasn’t a particularly spiritual person, but something about this place was calling out to her. A feeling of being drawn here. Attracted. Awoken. Aroused?
So she’d stopped asking questions and just kicked off her shoes and stepped into the waters, feeling its energy enter her the moment she committed to walking in. She’d felt a strange familiarity when the Sheikh stepped in beside her, even though her common sense reminded her she’d known the man less than a day. Of course, none of the day’s events had been common by any stretch, and so she dismissed common sense and played in those shimmering waters, laughing like a child, giggling like a fool, splashing and stomping, wading and stumbling.
“Those are my only pair, you asshole!” she screamed when the Sheikh tossed her glasses away and kissed her like they were old lovers. But somehow she knew she wouldn’t be needing them again. Those were glasses made for Professor Janice Johansen, and they’d served their purpose by seeing her this far, by allowing her to see this far. Now it was time to change her perspective, to try and see things differently, to try and see everything differently. Her next set of glasses wouldn’t be black frames with plastic lenses. The next set would be glasses fit for a queen. Would they let her see even farther? Or would they blind her?
Suddenly she knew she’d already made the decision to move forward, that perhaps everything in her life had been preparing her for this. Preparing her for him. Preparing her for . . . them? Oh, God, how could she even consider this?!
“It has to be you, Jan,” the Sheikh said as he led her out of the oasis and towards the Range Rover, where two veiled attendants were waiting with gold-embroidered towels monogrammed with Arabic letters. “Because you understand that shared marriages are part of humankind’s history. You will be able to explain it to the world. Your entire career has been about explaining complicated things to an audience. You have the poise and confidence, the intelligence and the presence.”
“I don’t speak a word of Arabic,” she said weakly, protesting even though she could feel herself fill with a terrible excitement as she sat on the sideboard of the silver car and watched an attendant dab-dry her feet. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to find an Arab woman? There’s no shortage of articulate, educated Arab women these days, yeah?”
“What I am proposing would be shocking even to the Arab world, where shared marriages are only the other way around, with one man taking multiple wives. Bringing an Arab woman into this would make the entire thing about religion and tradition. This is beyond that. Bigger than that. It needs to go beyond just the Arab world, and you being American will add to the sensationalism, perhaps even become the centerpiece of the story,” said Darius, clearly having thought of this before. “The world will take notice. Every newspaper and television channel. Do you see, Jan? We will all be on the main stage of the world. If it succeeds, it will elevate the images of both Ephraim and myself in a world that is increasingly changing the old balances of power between men and women. It will allow Ephraim and I to perhaps resolve this conflict without either of us losing face, to compromise without compromising. It is the only way this will work. Perception is everything. If it succeeds, of course.”
“If it succeeds . . .” Jan said to herself when the Sheikh stood and walked a few paces away to take a phone call. She watched him as he spoke quietly in Arabic, and then she smiled at the dark-eyed veiled woman who’d graciously dried her feet and was holding Jan’s shoe out like this was a Cinderella story. “Oh, no, you don’t need to do that,” Jan said, reaching to take the shoe away and put it on herself.
“It is my privilege,” said the attendant quietly. She glanced into Jan’s eyes. “There is no dishonor or disgrace in serving another.”
Jan frowned as she held the eye contact, and the moment stayed with her even as the attendant quickly looked down, slipped the shoes onto Jan’s feet, and then backed away toward a black Land Cruiser that had accompanied the Sheikh’s Range Rover. These are the people you’d be serving, it suddenly occurred to her. These men and women, their children, and generations to come. It would prevent a war, elevate the confidence and self-image of these people. Could you make it about them and not you?
Easier said than done, she reminded herself. You have an ego too. You are ambitious in your own way. Think of what happens if you go ahead with this. You’d be a sensation, like Darius said. A queen with two kings by her side? Magazine covers? Feature stories? Public opinion from all corners of the globe?
There would be those who’d call her a slut and a whore, but others who’d call her a role model, a shining example of how far women had come in the world. And even if the idea was a bust—which it probably would be—she’d learn something about the world of shared marriages, wouldn’t she? Worst case she’d get a double-divorce and a book deal.
Stop it, she told herself. Before you can even consider yourself capable of being a ruler, you need to handle your own ego. It may start off being about you, but eventually it would have to be about a greater good. And it would be a great good, wouldn’t it? You’re being given a chance to resolve a brewing conflict that could save thousands of lives! To prevent a war with marriage? Didn’t great women over the centuries do just that?
So as insane as it sounds, wouldn’t it be more insane not to consider walking down this path? What if I say no and six months later Habeetha and Noramaar go to war? What if Saudi Arabia decides to intervene? What if the U.S. decides to send troops?! What if in some twisted way, saying no would result in American soldiers getting killed yet again in some faraway desert?! Was it now her duty to walk down this path? To at least try?!
But even if I wanted to, could I actually do it? Two men? One of whom just kidnapped me? And I haven’t even met the other! Can I agree to consider sleeping with a man I haven’t even met yet?! What about marrying a man I haven’t even seen!? Who does that?!
Every woman in an arranged marriage has done exactly that, she reminded herself, thinking back to that old tradition, something that existed in every culture and society to some degree, even in the highest reaches of the so-called “civilized” societies of Europe and America.
Jan looked at her shoes as she thought, the shimmering waters of the Golden Oasis silently watching her. It really felt like she was at a crossroads. She thought about the logical decision, which would be to point those shoes back to reality, back to the United States, to her safe little office in Pittsburgh, her research, lesson-plans, student-faculty barbecues. Then she looked into the waters of the oasis, imagining what her life would be like if she went forward. Immediately she felt it within her again, like she’d already made a decision just by going this far. She was already in this new world. The question now was not if she’d do it, but how she’d do it.
Oh, God, she thought. If these two kings are so proud that they’d risk war and bloodshed rather than back down and lose face in public, then how are they going to manage their possessiveness when it comes to sharing a woman?! Was that what Darius meant when he said she was the battleground?! That these powerful men would have to battle their own emotions even as she fought to balance their pride along with her own goddamn sanity?! Oh, God, what was she getting into?! Two men? Two men! What would her mother think?
To hell with Mom, what do I think?! Isn’t this the true test of my beliefs? It’s easy to sit in a sterile university office and talk about theories and history, about how our ancestors shared close romantic and sexual relationships with several members of their tribes, how those shared marriages only became taboo over the past few hundred years. Can I walk the talk now? Can I experiment on myself, see if it really is possible, if my body and mind and heart can handle this without guilt, shame, fear even?
Jan looked towards the Sheikh again and realized he’d been off the phone for some time and was looking over at her, as if he was trying to figure out what was going through her mind. She gave him a half-smile, and he returned it, his eyes narrowing slightly, a knowing look passing between them. A look that said there’s only so much that can be said in words. The rest needs to be played out in experience.
That’s what you meant by ‘if it succeeds,’ didn’t you? she thought as she looked away and closed her eyes tight. You know that if we enter into this game, the emotions will be real—which means they will be unpredictable. You know that if this begins, it’s not clear how it will end.
And then immediately Jan knew what came next. The third piece in this puzzle. The third player in this game. That was the next move, as ridiculous as it seemed.