AllFreeNovel
Share Us
We return to the banquet room, but it has been filled now with a band and the lights are dim.
“Dance with me.”
It sounds like a command but I know Zahir now. There’s a question there too. If I shake my head, he’ll accept my response. He’s waiting, watching. Desire pulls on me. Need, too. After tonight, I will go back to the apartment in the city and resume my solitary existence. I will go back to the bedroom there, alone, destined to lie and stare at the ceiling, remembering a time when I thought I was falling in love and that perhaps that love wasn’t impossible.
Loneliness is buffering me, on all sides, waiting for me to sink back into it, but first, there is this and there is him. Selfishly, I nod. Selfish, because I know the impossibility of being with him and yet I’ll take what I can get – this one illicit dance, a memory to add to my collection, a closeness that will restore some life to my soul.
“One dance,” I underscore, my voice husky, my eyes holding a warning.
He presses his hand to the small of my back, drawing me to the dance floor. The room is packed with the dinner guests, but they do not move to the dance floor. It’s just Zahir and me. I’m not nervous though. Awareness of him is the only thing I’m conscious of.
In the middle of the room, he pulls me close. The band begins to play, a slow song, traditional Qabidi music with flute and strings, beautiful and stirring. Zahir’s body is rigid, strong, broad, powerful. I wonder if we should be dancing like this – so close and intimate – at a state event. Surely there’s a more appropriate hold than clinging to one another as though our lives depend on it? But I have already decided to be selfish.
A flash goes off and I realise the photographers are here too.
Realisation splits through the moment.
This is a perfect opportunity to show the world how unified we are – how truly happy. What a joke. Zahir has stage-managed this for his own political ends, just as everything about our marriage was stage-managed. And fake.
Foolish tears threaten. I am glad for our closeness now, glad he can’t see my face, the shock and hurt here. He holds me close and we continue to dance. More people join us, filling the floor in a trickle and then a wave, so we are fully surrounded. The song ends and I pull away, still within the circle of his arms but far enough to look up at him.
“Is that all you need?”
A frown flickers on his face, like he doesn’t understand.
“May I leave now?”
Impatience is obvious in his eyes.
“You’ve got what you wanted, right? A show of unity? Photos for the press? Can I go home now?”
“This is your home.”
“You know what I mean,” I demur. “Home. Away. Not here.”
His eyes lance mine, and then he nods, once. “Wait a moment.” Again his hand reaches the small of my back. He guides me towards the doors at the side, where he says something to a guard. He speaks into his wrist and just like that the music stops.
“I would like to thank you all for attending. Our friendship is important, our alliance long and guided by a mutual desire for peace and economic stability and nights like this remind us of our common interests and respect. Good night.”
The room applauds, and bows, but Zahir tuns quickly, ushering me through the doors and into the hallway.
“You didn’t have to leave as well,” I say with consternation. “I could have just slipped out.”
“Amy, you’re not just a guest, a footnote. You’re the guest of honour. It’s not possible for you to ‘slip out’.”
I stare at him, surprised by that characterisation, but deciding it’s not worth arguing about. “Okay, fine. Well, I told Aliya I’d leave after dinner so I’m sure my driver’s waiting.” I step back from him. “Good night.”
He glares at me, something like anger in his eyes now. “You don’t have to go right away.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because you just got here.”
“I’ve been here hours,” I say with a shake of my head.
“But I have barely spoken to you.”
My heart lurches. He’s acting as though that matters to him. Maybe it does. Maybe he wants to know if I’ve seen dad, or spoken to him. Maybe this is part of his security requirements.
