Sweet Revenge

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