Page 64 of The Marriage Deal
I silence, staring at him, wishing I knew more.
“Here.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone, speaking into it, a few gruff, Qabidi words before he hands it to me. There is a grim line on his face, and I understand this is the very last thing he wishes to be doing but I take it quickly, spinning away from him, closing my eyes.
“Daddy?”
“Amy,” his voice is so achingly familiar yet somehow older and more tired.
I sob. “You’re here?”
“In the city, thanks to you.”
“Are you okay? You’re not hurt?”
His laugh is the last thing I expect. “I’m being treated like a king. I’ve been checked into the penthouse suite, fed a buffet of traditional foods. It’s quite remarkable.”
“Oh.” I look over my shoulder towards Zahir, except he’s paced away. His back is to me, his eyes cast out on the view of the desert. My heart pangs. I am torn again, love for both men dragging on me until I feel like I could snap.
“When will I see you?”
“I – not for a few days, dad. I need to sort some things out here first.”
“Amy?”
My heart thunders through my chest.
“Tell me you’re okay?”
A tear rolls down my cheek. “Of course, I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
I close my eyes, suck in a deep breath and try again. “Really, dad, everything’s great.”
“If he’s hurt you, shaba, I will –,”
“Don’t!” I cut him off, aware there’s every possibility our conversation is being recorded. “Don’t even worry about it,” I finish with an attempt at calm, infusing my voice with what I hope passes for amusement. “You know me, dad. Would I ever do something I didn’t want to do?”
There’s a long pause.
“There’s so much you don’t know, Amy,” he says on a weary sigh. “So much I never told you.”
My stomach squeezes and unconsciously I move closer to Zahir, a sense of apprehension running the length of my spine. I came into this marriage with my eyes shut. I thought one thing, I saw this all as black and white, but the truth is, there are two sides to every story and I don’t know if I’ve properly heard either.
“I know.”
Zahir turns to face me, piercing me with eyes that reach right to the core of my being. My heart skips a beat.
“But are you happy to be home, dad?”
I wait, breath held, for his answer. It reaches me on a whoosh.
“Yes.” His pause is heavy with reflections. “I just hope my return didn’t come at too high a price.”
I hand the phone back to Zahir, strangely awkward, careful not to touch him. A stupid precaution, given how intimate we’ve been.
His mocking smile shows he understands.
“Thank you.”
