Sweet Revenge (10 page)

Now they were in New York with the blond lady who had the beautiful voice.

She didn’t want to be in New York. She wanted to be in Jaquir with Jiddah and Aunt Latifa and her cousins. Sniffling, Adrianne rubbed at her eyes as she crawled out of bed. She wanted to go home, where the smells were smells she recognized, where the voices spoke in a language she understood. Taking the doll Celeste had given her for comfort, she went to find her mother.

She heard the voices as she reached the top of the curving stairs. Adrianne walked down halfway to where she could see her mother and Celeste sitting in a big white room with black windows. Hugging the doll, she sat and listened.

“I’II never be able to repay you.”

“Don’t be silly.” With one theatrical gesture Celeste dismissed everything. “We’re friends.”

“You can’t imagine how much I’ve needed a friend these past years.” Too wired up to sit, Phoebe rose, drink in hand, to circle the room.

“No, I can’t,” Celeste said slowly, concerned with the nerves she saw in every jerky movement. “But I’d like to.”

“I don’t know where to begin.”

“The last time I saw you, you were looking radiant, in miles of white silk and tulle, wearing a necklace straight out of the Arabian Nights.”

“The Sun and the Moon.” Phoebe closed her eyes, then took a long drink. “It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I thought it was a gift—the most exquisite symbol of love any woman could ever dream of. What I didn’t know was that he’d bought me with it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I could never make you understand life in Jaquir.” She turned. Her brilliant blue eyes were bloodshot. Though she’d been drinking since she’d woken from her restless sleep, the liquor wasn’t relaxing her.

“Try.”

“At first it was really lovely. At least I wanted to believe it was. Abdu was kind, attentive. And there I was, the kid from Nebraska, queen. Because it seemed important to Abdu, I tried to live by the local customs—dress, attitude, that land of thing. The first time I put on a veil I felt, well, sexy and exotic.”

“Like
I Dream of Jeannie?”
Celeste asked with a smile, but Phoebe only sent her a blank look. “Never mind. Bad joke.”

“I didn’t mind the veil, really. It seemed like such a little thing, and Abdu insisted on it only when we were in Jaquir. We traveled a lot that first year, so it all seemed like an adventure. While I was pregnant, I was treated like some kind of precious jewel. There were complications and Abdu couldn’t have been more loving and concerned. Then I had Adrianne.” She looked down at her glass. “I need another drink.”

“Help yourself.”

Phoebe walked to the bar and filled the short glass to within a millimeter of the rim. “I was surprised when Abdu was upset. She was such a pretty, healthy baby, and like a miracle because I’d nearly miscarried twice. I know he’d talked incessantly about a son, but I had never expected him to be actually angry to have a daughter. I was hurt. I’d had a very long and difficult labor and his feelings about the baby set me off. We had a terrible fight right there in the hospital. Then it got worse; it got so much worse when the doctors told us I couldn’t have any more children.”

Phoebe took another drink, shuddering as the liquor punched into her system. “He changed, Celeste. He blamed me, not just for giving him a daughter he didn’t want, but for somehow seducing him away from his duty and tradition.”

“Seducing him? What a crock.” Celeste kicked off her shoes. “The man never gave you a chance, sweeping you off your feet with hundreds of white roses, buying out restaurants so you could have intimate dinners. He wanted you, and he made damn sure he got you.”

“None of that mattered. He saw me as a test, some kind of test that he failed, and he hated me for it. He saw Adrianne as a punishment instead of a gift, a punishment for his marrying a Western woman, a Christian, an actress. He wouldn’t have anything to do with her, and as little as possible to do with me. I was shuffled off into the harem and supposed to be grateful he didn’t divorce me.”

“Harem? You mean like women only? Veils and pomegranates?”

Phoebe sat again, cupping the glass in both hands. “There’s nothing romantic about it. The women’s quarters.
You sit endlessly day after day while they talk about sex and childbirth and fashion. Your status depends on how many male children you’ve given birth to. A woman who’s unable to have children is set apart to be pitied.”

“Obviously none of them have read Gloria Steinem,” Celeste interjected.

“Women don’t read at all. They don’t work, they don’t drive. There’s nothing to do but sit and drink tea and wait for the day to be over. Or you go out in groups to shop, covered from head to foot in black so you won’t tempt a man.”

“Give me a break, Phoebe.”

“It’s true. There are religious police everywhere. You can be whipped for saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing, wearing the wrong thing. You can’t even speak to a man who isn’t a member of your family. Not a word.”

“Phoebe, this is 1971.”

“Not in Jaquir.” With a half laugh she pressed a hand to her eyes. “There’s no time in Jaquir. Celeste, I tell you, I lost nearly ten years of my life. Sometimes it seems like a hundred, other times it seems like months. That’s the way it is there. When I couldn’t have any more children, Abdu took a second wife. The law allows it. The man’s law.”

Celeste plucked a cigarette out of the porcelain holder on the low table. She studied it as she tried to understand what Phoebe was describing. “I’ve read some articles. There’ve been a number of them in the last couple of years about you and Abdu. You never spoke of any of this.”

“I couldn’t. I was permitted to speak to the press only because he wanted publicity for the oil boom in the Middle East.”

“I’ve heard,” Celeste said dryly.

“You’d have to be there to understand it. Even the press isn’t allowed to tell the full story. If they tried, the connection would be broken. Billions of dollars are at stake. Abdu’s an ambitious man, and a smart one. As long as I was of some use, I was kept.”

Celeste lit the cigarette, then let out smoke slowly. She wasn’t convinced that half of what Phoebe was saying wasn’t a product of her friend’s abundant imagination. If any of it were true, even part of it, there was one point that couldn’t be resolved.

“Why did you stay? If you were treated like that, if you were so unhappy, why the hell didn’t you pack your bags and leave?”

“I threatened to leave. At that point, right after Addy was born, I still believed I could salvage something if I stood my ground. He beat me up.”

“My God, Phoebe.” Shaken, Celeste went to her.

“In all my nightmares, nothing was as horrible. I screamed and screamed, but no one helped.” She shook her head, rubbing away the tears as quickly as they fell. “No one dared help. He kept hitting me and hitting me, until I didn’t even feel it anymore. Then he raped me.”

“That’s insane.” With her arms around Phoebe, Celeste led her to the couch. “There must have been something you could have done to protect yourself. Did you go to the police?”

With a humorless laugh, Phoebe sipped at her drink. “It’s legal for a man to beat his wife in Jaquir. If he has cause. The women took care of me. They were really very kind.”

“Phoebe, why didn’t you write me, let me know what was happening? I might have been able to help. I would have helped.”

“Even if I could have smuggled a letter out, there would have been nothing you could have done. Abdu is absolute power in Jaquir, religiously, politically, legally. You have never experienced anything like it. I know it must be almost impossible for you to imagine my way of life there. I started to dream of getting out. I would have needed Abdu’s permission to leave legally, but I fantasized about escaping. But there was Adrianne. I couldn’t have gotten out with her, I couldn’t leave without her. She’s the most precious thing in my life, Celeste. I think I would have ended it a dozen times if it hadn’t been for Addy.”

“How much does she know?”

“I can’t be sure. Very little, I hope. She knows her father’s feelings for her, but I’ve tried to explain that they’re just a reflection of his feelings for me. The women loved her, and I think she was happy enough the way things were. After all, she’d never known anything else. He was going to send her away.”

“Away? Where?”

“To school, in Germany. That’s when I knew I
had
to make a move. He was making arrangements to have her married on her fifteenth birthday.”

“Jesus. Poor little girl.”

“I couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear to think that she would go through what I was going through. The trip to Paris was like a sign. Now or never. Without you it would have been never.”

“I only wish I could do more. I’d like to find the bastard and castrate him with a butter knife.”

“I can’t ever go back, Celeste.”

Celeste glanced up in some surprise. “Of course not.”

“No, I mean never.” Phoebe poured another drink, spilling liquor over the sides of the glass. “If he comes, I’ll kill myself before I go back.”

“Don’t talk like that. You’re in New York, you’re safe.”

“But there’s Addy.”

“She’s safe too.” Celeste thought of the dark, intense eyes with the bruises of fatigue beneath. “He’ll have to get through me. First thing we do is go to the press, maybe the State Department.”

“No, no, I don’t want the publicity. I don’t dare risk it, for Addy’s sake. She already knows more than she should.”

Celeste opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again. “You have a point.”

“I need to put it behind me, behind both of us. I want to go back to work, start living again.”

“Why don’t you start the living first? When you’re a little steadier on your feet, you can think about going back to work.”

“I’ve got to get Addy a place to live, school, clothes.”

“There’s time for all that. Right now you can stay here, catch your breath, give both yourself and Addy time to adjust.”

Phoebe nodded as the tears began to fall. “You know the worst of it, Celeste? I still love him.”

Silently, Adrianne climbed back up the stairs.

The sun was streaming through the chink of the drapes when Adrianne woke again. Her eyes were gritty from crying, her head light. Still, she was eight, and her first thought was of food. She shrugged back into the dress she had worn in Paris and started downstairs.

The apartment was much bigger than it had seemed to her the night before. Arching doorways led off the hallway. She was too hungry to explore, so went quietly downstairs, hoping to find fruit and bread.

She heard people talking. A man and a woman. Then there was laughter, a great deal of it. The people were talking again, arguing, the woman in a high-pitched, nagging voice, the man in a strange sort of English. The more they talked, the more laughter Adrianne heard. Cautious, she crept toward the sound and found herself in Celeste’s kitchen.

The room was empty, but there were still voices. Adrianne saw they were coming from a small box and in the box were little people. Enchanted, she walked over to touch the box. The people didn’t notice her, but went on arguing.

Not people, Adrianne realized with a grin. Pictures of people, moving, talking pictures. That meant the people in the box were movie stars, like her mother. Forgetting food, she put her elbows on the counter and stared.

“Just put everything over there. Oh, Adrianne, you’re up.”

Adrianne straightened quickly, waiting to be scolded.

“Good.” Celeste waited until the delivery boy set the bags on the counter. “Now I’ll have more company than
I Love Lucy”
She handed the boy some bills. “Thanks.”

“Thank you, Miss Michaels.” He sent Adrianne a wink, and left.

“Your mother’s still asleep, but I thought your stomach might wake you up. I’m afraid I had no idea what kind of things little girls like to eat, so I left it up to the grocer.” She pulled out a box of Rice Krispies. “Looks like a good start.”

The television switched to a commercial with a blast of sound and color. Adrianne’s mouth fell open. The White Tornado whirled in to save a housewife from waxy yellow buildup.

“Pretty amazing, huh?” Celeste dropped a hand on Adrianne’s shoulder. “You don’t have television in Jaquir?”

Too impressed to speak, Adrianne merely shook her head.

“Well, you can watch all you want for the next few days. There’s a bigger television in the other room. I keep this one in here to make my housekeeper happy. How about some breakfast?”

“Please.”

“Rice Krispies?”

Adrianne eyed the box. There were funny little people on it in big white hats. “I like rice.”

“This is a little different. I’ll show you.” At Celeste’s gesture Adrianne took a chair. From the table she could watch the television and Celeste at the same time. “First you pour it into a bowl. Then …” Enjoying herself, Celeste made a business out of pouring milk. “Now listen to it.” She wiggled her fingers at Adrianne. “Go ahead, put your ear down close.”

“It hisses.”

“Snaps, crackles, and pops,” Celeste corrected the child as she sprinkled on some sugar. “Hissing cereal wouldn’t go over very well. Give it a try.”

Hesitantly, Adrianne dipped the spoon in. She couldn’t understand why anyone would want to eat food that made noise, but she was too well bred to be rude. She took a bite, then two, then rewarded Celeste with her first genuine smile. “It is good. Thank you. I like American rice.”

“Rice Krispies.” Celeste ruffled her hair. “I think I might just have a bowl myself.”

Of all her memories of her first days in America, that
hour she spent with Celeste remained a favorite. It wasn’t so different from the harem. Celeste was a woman, and they spoke of women’s things. Shopping, the food she helped Celeste put away. There were things like butter made from peanuts and soup made out of letters. To her relief, there was also chocolate.

Celeste was different, with her short golden hair and the pants she wore. Adrianne liked the way her voice rose and fell so gracefully, the way she used her hands and arms, and even her body, with the words.