Princess: A True Story of Life Behind the Veil in Saudi Arabia

proud
announcement. Those who are free cannot fathom the value of small
victories for those who live on a tether.
    While in London, Nura arranged for me to have
a cosmetic makeover and a wardrobe color chart prepared. When told
that emerald green was my most flattering shade, I bought seventeen
outfits in that one color. My unruly hair was pulled back in a
smooth twist, and I stared in delicious wonder at the sophisticated
stranger in the storefront windows as I walked through the shopping
districts in London.
    Sara and Marci helped me dress on the day of
the party. I alternately cried and cursed at the impossibility of
duplicating my London hairstyle when Huda suddenly appeared at my
bedroom door.
    “Beware,” she cried, her eyes narrowing to
slits, “first you will know happiness, but then unhappiness will
come with your new husband.” I threw my hairbrush at her and loudly
told her not to spoil my day with her gibberish. Sara twisted my
ear and told me to be ashamed of myself; Huda was just an old
woman. My conscience did not hurt me at all, and I told Sara so.
Sara replied that the reason was that I did not have a conscience.
We sulked with each other until the gate bell rang; then she hugged
me and said I looked lovely in my emerald green dress.
    I was actually going to see my future husband
in the flesh! The sound of my pounding heart filled my ears.
Feeling all eyes on me watching for my reaction made me blush,
which was ruining the sophisticated entrance I had planned. Oh, to
return to the safety of my childhood!
    I had no need for such emotions. Not only was
Kareem the most handsome man I had ever seen; his sensuous eyes
caressed my every move and made me feel quite the loveliest
creature on earth. Within minutes of our strained introduction, I
knew he would never call off our engagement. I discovered in myself
a surprising hidden talent, one that is most helpful to women who
must manipulate to achieve their goals. I learned I was a natural
flirt. With the greatest of ease I found myself pursing my lips and
looking at Kareem through lowered lids. My imagination soared:
Kareem was only one of my many suitors.
    Kareem’s mother was watching me closely, in
obvious distress at my vampish mannerisms. Sara, Nura, and my
aunties were exchanging pained looks. But Kareem was hypnotized,
and nothing else mattered.
    Before Kareem and his mother left, he asked
if he could call me on the telephone one evening later in the week
to discuss our wedding plans. I scandalized my aunties by failing
to ask their permission first and replied, “Of course, anytime
after nine would be all right.” I gave Kareem a woman’s smile of
promise when he said good-bye.
    I hummed my favorite tune, a Lebanese love
ballad, as Nura, Sara, and my aunties told me in great detail every
wrong move I had made. They declared that Kareem’s mother was sure
to insist the wedding be called off, since I had practically
seduced her son with my eyes and lips. I told them they were just
all jealous because I had the chance to see my husband before the
wedding. I stuck my tongue out at my aunties and told them they
were too old to understand the beatings of young hearts; I left
them standing wide-eyed in shock at my audacity. Then I locked
myself in my bathroom and began to sing at the top of my lungs.
    Later, I thought about my performance. Had I
not liked Kareem, I would have ensured that he not like me. I liked
him, so I willed him to fall in love. My actions had been well
thought out: If I had found him repulsive and wanted our engagement
canceled, I was going to eat without any manners, belch in his
mother’s face, and spill hot tea in his lap. If Kareem and his
family were still not convinced that I was an unworthy wife for
Kareem, I had thought I might pass gas.
    Luckily for Kareem and his mother, they were
saved from a shocking afternoon since I had found him attractive
and pleasing in character. I was so relieved to know I would not be
marrying an old man blunted from life that I thought love would
find fertile ground in our union.
    With such pleasant thoughts in my mind, I
gave Marci six pretty outfits from my closet and told her I was
going to ask Father if she could go with me to my new home. Kareem
called me that night. With a great deal of amusement, he told me
his mother had advised him against our marriage. She had quivered
in fury at my boldness and predicted I would bring heartache to her
eldest son and, in turn, disaster to the