Black Book of Arabia (2 page)

Sara imagined the many ways in which she could put Ali to the test. In her mind, there was no better way to find out if he coveted the grass on the other side than to tempt him with another woman. But who? She was embarrassed to confide her fears to her friends. After disappearing from the social calendar and not returning their calls, how could she contact them out of the blue, and with such an indecent proposal? They would not understand her fear, her need to know that she was still beautiful in Ali's eyes. She shivered
at the thought of how they would laugh at her. Besides, there were too many stories of such attempts that backfired with the husband marrying the bait. She could not risk it. She thought about hiring someone to carry out the plan, a professional, but that could leave a money trail. If the temptress succeeded, she might demand more money, blackmailing Sara with the threat of exposing what she had done to her husband. No, it had to be someone she could trust.

When at last the solution presented itself, it was obvious: She would do it herself. And it would be easy. Simple. Clear. Clean. Foolproof. Blackmail-free. The smart way to do it. She would set the trap by being the other woman herself.
Plain and simple genius,
she thought to herself. She toyed with the idea until it became her only delightful hobby, until she was giddy with frivolous excitement. She applauded herself for concocting such a devious plan and sat smiling as the babies nursed and slept peacefully.

She bought a mobile number, created fake Facebook and WhatsApp accounts, and began to lure her husband into “speaking” to her. Naturally, since he would recognize her voice, she only sent text messages. To separate herself from online scammers and to gain his confidence, she sent him quotes and mottoes he was fond of, including posters she found online with beautiful images and the words he favored.

Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be. Be one.

and

I don't count my sit-ups. I only start counting when it starts hurting. That is when I start counting, because then it really counts. That's what makes you a champion.

Sara knew what Ali liked in a woman and exactly which buttons to push to spark his interest, making it that much easier to spin her web, confident he would eventually fall into it with abandon, however long it took. It was fun rediscovering ways of enticing her husband, harassing him, and playing games with his heart. She felt like a woman again. It excited her and made her forget the cramps in her lower abdomen every time she stood up suddenly. It made her forget that she did not feel attractive. It gave her such an ego boost that she would crave it. There is a certain pleasure in sinning and in knowing you have the upper hand and the control to walk away whenever you want.

But as well-conceived as these overtures were, Ali never responded to them. Instead of taking consolation in his disinterest and fidelity, Sara became aggravated. With stubborn determination she persisted. She spent hours a day finding news items, images, and sayings to intrigue him. Nothing worked. The challenge had begun; it was either him or her, and she was always right.

Desperate to gain his attention, she used her phone to send him a “selfie” that was actually a picture of a magazine page with a model's alluring eyes looking out from a veil. She chose a Latin-looking model and saved several different shots of her in her phone's memory to be presented
to him as bait in the future. He had always liked the sun-kissed look.

She moved into another bedroom to create a fertile ecosystem in which to stray and possibly fall as Adam had. Ali never responded to her messages and her gentle, persistent enticing, but Sara's stubborn nature insisted that she had to be right in the end. She created a character who was an attractive, strong, fun woman who was hopelessly in love with Ali. All she wanted was communication. He didn't have to reply in kind; she just wanted to know that he received her messages. Finally, after months of ignoring her, Ali responded.

As soon as he did, his caring chat mate wanted to know if he was all right. Had he had his breakfast? How was he feeling? What was he doing? Exhilarated but careful not to overreact, Sara proceeded cautiously. As badly as she wanted to put Ali to the final test, she made small talk at first. The shower of attention continued for months. Sara began to receive more and more texts and emails from Ali as he sought solace and comfort with “Tamara.” Slowly and persistently, she managed to turn his abrupt responses into sentences and, eventually, paragraphs.

She was Tamara, a lonely but educated and beautiful woman. Not surprisingly, their discussions turned toward his marriage. How long had he been married? Was he happy? Satisfied? The first few times the topic came up, Ali professed happiness, but with a little prodding he finally complained that his wife had changed. Sara was still a great mother, to be sure, but as a wife she was
absent. And while his wife closed herself off, mourning her lost beauty and fanning the flame of suspicion, Ali found with Tamara what he lacked with Sara. She allowed it, because she wanted to see if he was hungry enough to cheat. He complained that his wife never had time for him anymore, but she secretly basked in the hours he spent with her online. For in Sara's mind, a man spent time on what he valued most, be it his friends, wife, lover, children, work, or even a hobby such as fishing or socializing with other men in the
majlis
. If a man spent time with you, he was sacrificing his time elsewhere for your sake. When he avoided you, he was simply not interested anymore in what you had to say, give, or do. Now Ali was spending hours online with her.

Tamara boldly asked what kind of intimacy he missed. Ali disclosed some of the things his wife did that he enjoyed. Sara was flattered to hear how much Ali appreciated what she did for him but she was angry that he discussed them openly with this online stranger. Tamara asked about his fantasies. He was too shy to tell them to Sara, but, protected by distance, he told Tamara everything. Even in his betrayal he was thinking of Sara; she could tell he was describing her, not as she was before the children, but as she was now. Sara smiled to think how easy it would be to make her husband happy, but she let Tamara promise it instead. Tamara not only would do those things, but she wanted to do them; she craved doing them. She exercised her wildest imaginings on him, and more. She taunted and toyed with him, and she made him laugh. He enjoyed the conversations
and he expressed himself openly with her. He wrote how wonderful she was and how he wished they could meet, speak, and be together.

Tamara knew him well. She had studied him intently over the years. The outcome of a sporting event he followed, a new song by a favorite singer, a recent movie with an actor or actress he liked—all were fodder for conversation and connection. She painted a picture of sharing such things together, and Ali responded. She masterminded the soul mate whose company he would enjoy. He liked to take care of the woman he was with and be appreciated for it. His simple acts of texting her when waking, when he arrived at work, and during meals were important to him, although she never understood why. The messages seemed repetitive, but Sara played the role well and continued to chirp
Sweet mornings
and
Sweet dreams
to him, throwing in a line of poetry or an intriguing quote.

The gratification Sara felt every time he replied slowly began to fill her with the not-so-foreign emotions of a passion that she had lost. When Ali was home, she found herself becoming dull because every time she thought of something interesting or witty to say, she would save it for Tamara. When he was gone, she searched the Internet for tidbits that Tamara could share on her Facebook page or in private messages. He did not respond to every post or text, but when he did, she luxuriated in his attention. It was like courting a prince, but more than a prince, because he was her lifelong love.

Intense and encompassing, the feeling stopped short every time she realized that his need and comfort were with Tamara, not with her. It did not matter that she was both. What had started out as a small and harmless test of fidelity had become a living nightmare that dominated every minute of her day. The elation Sara felt as Tamara gained Ali's attention and affection never quite matched the disappointment she felt as she watched her husband slipping away, chat by chat, word by word, emoticon by emoticon.

Sara wanted to end it. But the more contact they had, the harder it became to retract it all. More importantly, how was she to explain that she had done it to prove that he would cheat? His pride would never stand it, and neither would hers. She wanted to put him to the test. Would he meet her? Sleep with her? Marry her? Would he forget that he had a wife who had borne him three children? Who was once pretty and could possibly go back to being fit one day? Even if she was going through an emotionally unstable stage and was overly suspicious?

Ali pushed to meet Tamara in person, to taste the forbidden fruit at last. He texted. He sent private emails. He pursued Tamara with the same passion with which he had pursued Sara a few years earlier. Talking to him over the phone would blow her cover, so Tamara refused to speak to him while Sara was still his wife. She said she would only do it after he divorced her, which he point blank refused to do. That stopped her heart, but she was beginning to feel that she had created a monster. The fruit of her loins,
Tamara, had grown into a woman who controlled Ali and tested him in terms of money and marriage. He sent her money by the wads and offered her marriage, but would never leave his wife and children.

She avoided responding. He kept texting her. She tried to discourage him by criticizing things he liked, saying things she knew would annoy him, discussing topics of no interest to him. Nothing seemed to work. The differences seemed only to add piquancy to the relationship. It was getting out of control and she tried everything to end it, to turn him away, even distastefully, all to no avail. She could see him hurting at home as he turned away from food and languished by the day. His emails to Tamara burned her eyes to read:

Tamara, my one and my all,

In losing myself to your love, I have found my lost soul. A soul I would never have known had I not stumbled and fallen in love with you. Hopelessly, truly and deeply. All that I desire is to fulfill my love for you. I am a man of my word, and I have so much to say to you. If I cannot say it or express myself to you, I feel as though I will die suffocating.

In your love your sun has blinded me, but I cannot see at night. I see colors I do not know the names of. And should I die, I will beg my wife to bring you to my grave because my bones desire you to step on my remains. I want you in my life, and in my death. You needn't bring roses, for you are the rosiest rose in the garden of my sight, and your thorns have made my heart bleed after you have disappeared.

I would offer you the world, but you say you have your own. What can I give you that can make you want me? I do not want to live a day without you in my life. Isn't it crazy that the only time I can bear to smile is when I think of you?

I only miss you when I am breathing.

Run away with me. Please <3

It was now Ali's turn in the valley of lost souls. His eyes became glassy and he lost weight. His short, dirty beard became an unkempt two-week-old beard more out of a lack of interest than out of religious or fashion notions. He did not care how he looked anymore, and he looked almost fragile. When asked, he would blame it on the stress at work. Sara invited his sisters and parents to visit in hopes of cheering him up. Everyone noticed that Ali was no longer Ali. It was as if an alien had abducted him and he was a mere shell of the person he once had been.

At home, Sara stopped being distant, offering herself to her husband and tempting him with the fantasies he had confided in Tamara. It was no use. Ali was in love with Tamara, and nothing Sara could do or say would change his feelings for her. Tamara was ruthless and compassionate all at once. She was his savior and his temptress, everything that he wanted and needed. He would never see her, and he sat there apathetically and moped. He would cry in the bathroom, and Sara could hear him while he let the shower run. He was quick to notice something pretty on his wife and inquire where she bought it, to secretly buy it and send it to his beloved Tamara. In the beginning it was funny, then
fascinating to see how far he would stretch to nurture this budding affair. He would bend over backwards and sideways in his attempts to charm and captivate Tamara. Sara kept stock of the items he sent, planning to one day reveal to him how much money he had wasted on his online girlfriend; but when the items became more expensive, her sweet game turned sour, and, if exposed, would leave a bad aftertaste in everyone's mouth.

His texts kept coming.

I need you.

I will die without you . . .

How can you do this to me?

Have you no heart.

Ask me for anything and it is yours—just please come back.

Sara stopped replying to him. She removed the chip from her phone and burned it for fear he might find out who Tamara really was. He would never forgive her if she admitted the truth.

She brought her daughters to Ali's office to celebrate his “Surprise Happy Un-Birthday,” thinking it entertaining and fun for the whole family. She wanted him back in her life. She regretted putting her plan into action and she prayed she would be able to undo what she had done. She would fix it. Her body had slimmed down, and she was over her depression.

He hugged and kissed his daughters and thanked his wife politely but with no emotion or even the trace of a
smile in his voice. When the party turned quiet, he excused himself to step outside, sit under a tree, and send Tamara more messages in yet another attempt to reawaken his absent love.

It had been almost a month since Sara had removed the chip from the phone. He pined for Tamara, and Sara suffered. She acted ignorant of his withering state of health and heart and attempted to play his favorite Egyptian comedies and American soaps, but he would sit staring at the screen unmoved, untouched, emotionally paralyzed.