afternoon.” I can’t take it any more. But I can’t stop seeing Michael,” Dalia said.
“I know what you mean, I feel the same way. I was thinking that maybe we should have one of them drive us to the school and drop us off. At least that way we wouldn’t have to worry about being seen in a taxi,” I said.
“That would help, but they could still spot us going to the restaurant.”
“I know, but at least it would be one less thing to worry about. I’m sure if we put our heads together we can think of a way to reduce the other risks as well.”
Exasperated after another endless round of examining the
pros and cons, I suggested, “We should forget the whole Friday classes thing, and try to get Mohammed to take us to places with Jehan and leave us there for a couple of hours. Now that the football season is over we should be able to get him to do that.”
But in the end we decided to keep to our original plan, as nothing else seemed to work as well. For months now we’d been careful to stick to our Thursday schedule in order to avoid making our families suspicious. Each week, we spent hours in my room or hers, thrashing out ideas and strategies. All this worry and planning was draining. In the beginning, it had brought its own excitement even when we’d doubted that we would succeed; now it had become an obsession to keep the successes going.
Our work at the salon began to suffer as we spent more time on planning and started seeing fewer customers. Not that our families would have disapproved; as far as our fathers and brothers were concerned, the salon was just a way for us to fritter away our time and be together. It wasn’t a bona fide business. They never cared about how many clients we had, or how much money we earned. Any cash we made was to be our pocket money, to waste on books and pictures and women’s things. Since we weren’t married, our fathers and brothers were responsible for all of our basic needs. We quickly discovered, however, that leading a secret life required money to buy our brothers gifts to keep them sweet or pay for their activities to get them out of the way. It was a small price to pay for peace of mind. But we’d have to increase our appointments again.
The money, though, was only a tiny part of the real cost of our activities. We spent hours studying and synchronizing our actions. Since our independence depended on our brothers’
schedules, we were forced to quietly alter their activities, all the time convincing them that each new idea came from them and not us. As we became masters of manipulation, as we grew better and better at subtly organizing their lives, we felt as if we knew them better than they knew themselves. With most extracurricular activities in Jordan taking place on Fridays and Saturdays, mapping their events to coincide with our trysts was not very difficult. But it drained time. In the end, each glorious afternoon cost hours, and sometimes days, of effort. Dalia was in paradise, often absent-minded, so it was my responsibility to check and re-check all the details so that both of us were protected.
It was amazing to see how Michael had changed her. For as long as I could remember, Dalia had always had a rebellious spirit. As a child, the more she was forbidden to do something, the more she was determined to do it. As we matured and our restrictions grew, the nonconformist within her became deeply resentful of the rules governing her life, and angry with the men who enforced them. But now, her feelings for Michael began to transform her pessimism into optimism. She’d found a man who encouraged and treasured her free spirit. This adventure had reawakened that lively rebellious child, and she revelled in the excitement. In fact, we inadvertently reverted to the roles we’d had in adolescence. Dalia invented the idea, and I found a way to make it happen.
It was clear that Dalia was in love with Michael, although she still refused to admit it. They
“I know what you mean, I feel the same way. I was thinking that maybe we should have one of them drive us to the school and drop us off. At least that way we wouldn’t have to worry about being seen in a taxi,” I said.
“That would help, but they could still spot us going to the restaurant.”
“I know, but at least it would be one less thing to worry about. I’m sure if we put our heads together we can think of a way to reduce the other risks as well.”
Exasperated after another endless round of examining the
pros and cons, I suggested, “We should forget the whole Friday classes thing, and try to get Mohammed to take us to places with Jehan and leave us there for a couple of hours. Now that the football season is over we should be able to get him to do that.”
But in the end we decided to keep to our original plan, as nothing else seemed to work as well. For months now we’d been careful to stick to our Thursday schedule in order to avoid making our families suspicious. Each week, we spent hours in my room or hers, thrashing out ideas and strategies. All this worry and planning was draining. In the beginning, it had brought its own excitement even when we’d doubted that we would succeed; now it had become an obsession to keep the successes going.
Our work at the salon began to suffer as we spent more time on planning and started seeing fewer customers. Not that our families would have disapproved; as far as our fathers and brothers were concerned, the salon was just a way for us to fritter away our time and be together. It wasn’t a bona fide business. They never cared about how many clients we had, or how much money we earned. Any cash we made was to be our pocket money, to waste on books and pictures and women’s things. Since we weren’t married, our fathers and brothers were responsible for all of our basic needs. We quickly discovered, however, that leading a secret life required money to buy our brothers gifts to keep them sweet or pay for their activities to get them out of the way. It was a small price to pay for peace of mind. But we’d have to increase our appointments again.
The money, though, was only a tiny part of the real cost of our activities. We spent hours studying and synchronizing our actions. Since our independence depended on our brothers’
schedules, we were forced to quietly alter their activities, all the time convincing them that each new idea came from them and not us. As we became masters of manipulation, as we grew better and better at subtly organizing their lives, we felt as if we knew them better than they knew themselves. With most extracurricular activities in Jordan taking place on Fridays and Saturdays, mapping their events to coincide with our trysts was not very difficult. But it drained time. In the end, each glorious afternoon cost hours, and sometimes days, of effort. Dalia was in paradise, often absent-minded, so it was my responsibility to check and re-check all the details so that both of us were protected.
It was amazing to see how Michael had changed her. For as long as I could remember, Dalia had always had a rebellious spirit. As a child, the more she was forbidden to do something, the more she was determined to do it. As we matured and our restrictions grew, the nonconformist within her became deeply resentful of the rules governing her life, and angry with the men who enforced them. But now, her feelings for Michael began to transform her pessimism into optimism. She’d found a man who encouraged and treasured her free spirit. This adventure had reawakened that lively rebellious child, and she revelled in the excitement. In fact, we inadvertently reverted to the roles we’d had in adolescence. Dalia invented the idea, and I found a way to make it happen.
It was clear that Dalia was in love with Michael, although she still refused to admit it. They
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