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Besides, I've seen Skylar deliver some very good bites to pieces of steak before, and I’m sure she can handle one.
The filet is tender, and I have no problems thinking it would be too hard for Skylar. In fact, if it was, it would be a problem I’d have to take up with the restaurant.
Another reason why I’m here is that I’m done playing pauper. Some three days ago, if her mother saw me here, she'd freak out and think I was spending a week's worth of my salary on one meal.
However, now that it’s clear to her that I’m an Omani royal or at least related to the Omani royalty, it wouldn’t surprise her so much.
My happiness is in Skylar’s smile as she eats with me.
After the meal, we spend some time playing videogames on my phone before heading back home. When we arrive, Rebecca is there. She’d texted me earlier asking if everything was alright, and I told her we were, so she doesn't ask any questions when we get back.
I watch as Skylar runs to her mother to give her a comforting hug before sprinting to a disgruntled Marie who helps her unpack and undress.
Marie should have been on her way home by now, and I didn’t consider her at all over the course of this little rendezvous.
After offering a small apology, which Marie accepts, I turn to go home, but Skylar begs me to stay. I look toward her mother sitting on the couch, pretending to watch TV, meanwhile, her every sense is tuned to my movements.
I really don’t want to talk to her, but at the same time, I can’t say no to a cute Skylar.
It's well into the evening, so Skylar and I watch television.
I sit awkwardly, trying my best to avoid Rebecca’s gaze because she’s in the living room with us. We usually do evening television until I’m sure that Skylar is sleepy enough or until it’s her bedtime.
This time, however, I’m the one to tire out first, and before I know what is happening, I’m asleep.
How do I know?
Well, I’m seeing my father.
The both of us are in our garden, and he insists on checking on one of our dogs.
"Ruby should have barked by now," he says, stroking his white beard. "Give me a few minutes, let me go check."
That's the thing with this man. Somehow, even though his whole life has been built around royalty, he’s still not used to ordering people around.
Most of his personal workers have been sent to engage themselves in other tasks while the both of us enjoy quiet time. If my mom was still alive, she'd be the one here right now tending to the plants with him.
"Don’t worry,Baba. I’ll go check," I say, springing to my feet to do what he wanted to. "Your belly wouldn’t allow you to stand so fast, anyway," I tease him.
“Ah, well, you’re right. Besides, if I leave you here with my plants, you’d use them for those your American salads,” he makes a comeback joke at me, that makes me laugh.
“We’re on American soil,Baba, of course I’ll make salads,” I say before rounding the corner to check on the dog. In our American home, we have dogs. In Oman, it’s a leopard named Bono.
When I get to Ruby’s kennel, she’s lying on the floor.
“Sleeping, big girl?” I chuckle and make my way over to her.
Rubbing her belly, it’s a little stiff. My heart begins to race. I immediately go for her pulse, but it’s weak…very weak.
“Baba!” I yell and make a sprint for him. If we get her to the vet, there might still be time to save her.
But just around the corner, I see my father’s throat being slit by a man.
Fear grips me, not for the man, but for my father’s life, because at that moment, I was too late. The knife’s lacerations are too deep.
But I do the best I can. The assassin flees the scene at the sense of another presence, and I don’t bother to give chase. It makes more sense to try and help my father.
“Baba!” I scream when I throw myself on the ground and try to stem the bleeding. It’s impossible to do it with one hand.
