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“No, I was going to ask if he’s Muslim.” She looked uncomfortable with the word.
“W-would it matter if he was?” What an odd question. It took me completely aback, especially coming from Deja, who was super liberal.
“No!” she said quickly. “No, not at all. God, Sophie, you know me. I’m a black lesbian—I’m not a big fan of prejudice. I just wondered because, you know, he’s out there having threeways and fucking dudes, and I’m pretty sure that’s a no-no for most religions.”
“If he’s religious, it’s never come up.” I thought back over our acquaintance with him. I’d seen him drink. I saw him eat pork osso buco once. And… “Do Muslim guys get circumcised? Because he’s not.”
She held up a hand. “I didn’t need to know about his dick. I already know too much about your husband’s.”
“I never told you any of that,” I reminded her. It was Holli’s weird admiration-slash-obsession on the topic that made it come up. In her deviant little mind, I’d scored some kind of phallic jackpot, and it was her opinion that I didn’t take vocal enough credit for that. “But seriously…why did you ask?”
“Because I’m worried,” she said frankly. “I’m worried about anybody who might be coming here. You know what things are like here, now.”
We had a rule that we would never utter a certain name in the office, but I knew exactly what she was getting at. It had already been unsafe for anyone from the Middle East to live here. That had ramped up considerably in the past sixteen years, but since the election…
“I worry about Mel,” Deja went on. “And Hannah in the advertising department. Some guy tried to rip her scarf off her head on the subway last week.”
“Oh, my god.” I covered my mouth in horror.
“I’m just saying…if you guys want to be safe…” She grimaced. “But there’s really no safe place, is there?”
My heart hurt at that realization. I’d never thought of it, because I’d never had to. Unlike Deja, I’d never had to worry about my safety beyond the everyday rituals every woman performed. It was enough for me to not walk too close to doorways or stay in subway cars alone with men. So, I hadn’t thought about what could happen to El-Mudad in America. His money couldn’t protect him from everything.
“He has a bodyguard,” I offered with an ineffectual shrug.
“Good,” she said grimly. Then, “Sorry, I really brought this whole thing down, didn’t I?”
“It’s not something you can turn off in your brain. I get it,” I said, though we both knew I could never truly understand.
She forced a smile. “Tell me something else about your amazing weekend. How many times did you guys do it?”
I engaged her with the post-game wrap up I’d usually do with her and Holli, but my heart wasn’t in it. My thoughtlessness distracted me; what would life be like if El-Mudad moved here? What would it be like if he couldn’t?
In all the sex and happiness of the weekend, I’d been picturing a relationship that might not be beneficial to everyone. Or downright impossible. I’d envisioned a traditional arrangement, wherein I came home from work at night to two loving partners, and we lived in some kind of domestic harmony.
Traditional might not have been the right word for it.
I stood by the idea, though. What a wonderful life it would be for all of us to live together, to wake up in the morning and go to bed every night, to share our hopes and fears and even the inane thoughts that floated through our heads.
I wanted what I had with Neil, but with El-Mudad included. And I’d selfishly decided that it would all happen on my terms. That he would move into our palace by the sea—but what about his daughters? That he would spend his days at home with Neil—but what about his own business, his own life? That he would want the exact same things I wanted—but what if he didn’t?
And how could I claim to love him if I’d never stopped long enough in my selfish vision of bliss to consider that the life I’d fantasized about could put El-Mudad and his children in danger?
Deja had a massively valid point. There was already so much going on in our country that made it an unwelcoming, arguably unstable place for people from Middle Eastern countries. What would happen if, one day, he simply couldn’t get back to us? Was it something that vast wealth could get around?
And we had our lives here, and Olivia. Emma and Michael had planned to raise her in America. They hadn’t anticipated the current state of affairs here, though, so maybe they wouldn’t mind if we ran away from the prologue of The Handmaid’s Tale that was currently taking shape all around us. But that left Valerie and Laurence, who were staying close by to share custody of Olivia. Plus, Valerie ran the magazine and oversaw the New York offices of Elwood & Stern; she couldn’t uproot herself and probably didn’t want to.
