Chapter 21: What happens tomorrow?

October 19, 2001, Los Angeles, California

🎤 Steve

I was completely unprepared for that unexpected kiss, and I had no clear idea how to respond. The implications, if they were what I suspected they were, loomed larger than Sarah York disrobing in my study. For a conservative Muslim girl, even one who made accommodations for living in America, kissing my cheek was tantamount to an invitation to take her to bed. My mind, which was in overdrive, despite me having taken the fast-acting propranolol, quickly derived the correct, and blindingly obvious, solution.

“Aisyah,” I said gently. “I appreciate the hospitality, but I think it would be best if I were to leave.”

“Which would upset my parents, who would demand to know what I’d done to offend you. And I’d have no answer I could give them without making things worse. I didn’t offend you, did I?”

“No, you didn’t; you just surprised me.”

“Please stay.”

“I suppose that’s the best option,” I reluctantly agreed.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

I believed her, in one sense, but in another sense, she had to know that the kiss would make me uncomfortable. Even having a discussion about it was risky, but I didn’t think I could stand two hours of silence. But I also didn’t know what to talk about. I sat quietly while Aisyah went back to preparing the meal. Five minutes passed, before she turned to look at me.

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking down. “I’ll hand in my resignation on Monday.”

Which was the LAST thing I wanted! That wasn’t good for her OR for NIKA. The problem was, I wasn’t sure there was a way to salvage the situation, unless I could convince Aisyah that everything was still OK.

“Please don’t do that,” I pleaded. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I made a terrible mistake because I assumed ... no, never mind. It’s better if I find a new job.”

Assumed? I thought back and couldn’t for the life of me think of a single thing I’d done which would have given Aisyah the wrong impression. In fact, I’d been scrupulously correct in my interactions with her, and that kiss on the cheek had been the first physical contact of ANY kind. To date, there hadn’t been so much as a handshake or even an accidental touch as we walked past or next to each other.

I had certainly looked out for her, as I did all my employees, and had politely discussed Islam with her, and she knew I had checked on the other Muslim employees when I’d checked on her. The one exceptional thing I’d done, before the mosque visit, was to ensure the trouble at Sepulveda Medical Associates had been handled properly. But even then, it was Al Barton who had resolved the problem by speaking with the medical director.

I contemplated every second of my interaction with Aisyah from the time we’d met with the imam until the kiss on the cheek, and couldn’t imagine that anything I’d done, which mostly amounted to listening politely to the imam, as well as talking about NIKA, had prompted the kiss. I also couldn’t think of a single thing I might have said or done which could be interpreted incorrectly, even given Aisyah’s conservative nature.

It was that conservative nature that made the kiss on the cheek that much more surprising, and that much more significant. As I’d thought earlier, the implications of the simple kiss on the cheek were at least as strong, and probably stronger, than Sarah standing naked in my study. That act by Sarah had been the next logical step in a series of events which had actually begun with Michelle participating in the naked rap session. Aisyah kissing me on the cheek appeared to me to have come out of the blue.

“Assumed?” I asked, only seconds later, as my mind was engaged at warp speed, and the thoughts had been processed nearly instantly.

“It doesn’t matter now,” she replied dejectedly.

“It does matter, because I don’t want you to leave NIKA. And if you DO leave, Bob and Barbara are going to ask you ‘why?’ and I’m not sure what answer you could give that wouldn’t raise questions, given my visit to LA. It’s no different from the questions your parents will ask if I leave, or the ones they’ll ask if you quit.”

She turned from the stove and looked at me, her brown eyes glistening with tears, though I’d yet to see any on her cheeks.

“I know about The Club,” she said softly, her voice barely audible.

I instantly knew what had precipitated the kiss on the cheek, AND that the implication I’d taken from it was accurate, which immediately raised the question of who had talked. Aisyah had no reason to know about The Club, and there was nobody in Los Angeles who knew about it. In fact, of the staff in the Western Region, only Kajri was a member, and I couldn’t imagine her saying anything.

“What do you know?” I asked, hoping to glean some information about who had talked.

Aisyah bit her lower lip and nodded slightly, and said, her voice still just above a whisper, “It’s girls who have been with you.”

“And you know who’s in it?” I asked.

She nodded, “Some, but I don’t think all of them.”

“Will you tell me who told you about it, and what they said?”

“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble!” she exclaimed, the words tumbling rapidly from her mouth.

Whoever it was, and I meant to find out, at nearly any cost, was going to be on the receiving end of a serious dressing down, at the minimum. What happened beyond that would depend on what I learned about the conversation, including the context.

“How about we start with how you found out about it?” I asked, keeping my voice friendly so it didn’t seem like the interrogation it was.

Aisyah took a deep breath and let it out.

“I was speaking with someone and they mentioned how protective you were of me, and wondered if I knew about The Club, being here in Los Angeles. I said ‘no’ so they proceeded to tell me about it, and that I should talk to Charlie so she knew I should be part of it. I protested that you and I hadn’t ... but the person I was speaking to said there was no need to hide it from the other members of The Club, and that all of them worked together to protect you.”

“But you didn’t call Charlie, right?”

“No, because I hadn’t ... given myself to you. But I liked the idea of The Club - protecting you and helping you, which made me act inappropriately today.”

“Now I understand,” I replied. “And everything makes sense.”

“You’re not angry or upset?”

Not at Aisyah, that was for sure, but whoever it was who ‘spilled the beans’ was a different story altogether.

I smiled, “No.”

“May I tell you a story? To explain?”

“It’s not necessary, but it’s up to you.”

Aisyah smiled, “I think I should.”

“Go ahead.”

“When I was thirteen, I had a job cleaning the houses of two wealthy men from the mosque, and babysitting their young children after school. A few months after I started working for them, my dad approached them about money to buy the first store. One day soon after that, I overheard the men talking, and they agreed with each other that they were unsure my dad was a good risk for their investment.

“I was unhappy, because I knew from things my father had said that these were the only two men he knew who could assist him. I thought about it for a few days, and then went to the first man, who was very handsome and virile, and offered myself to him if he would invest in my dad’s store. He agreed, and the next day, he had me, and the day after, he convinced his friend to invest.

“My parents have no idea that happened. I did it because I loved my dad and wanted him to be successful, and I don’t regret it in any way. Now, thirteen years later, I see a handsome, virile man who has protected me and helped me, and treated me with the utmost respect. I learned that he has had a number of the girls who work for him, and those girls are very special to him.

“I wondered if I was special enough, so I kissed you on the cheek to let you know you may have me, if you want. I want to give myself to you to show you my appreciation for what you have done. If you allow it, I will come with you to your hotel tonight. I will say nothing to anyone, of course, not even Charlie. Will you please allow me to give myself to you? Please?”

There were a host of problems and concerns with that request, not the least of which was the rule about being with anyone at NIKA. I was positive that she’d have had an STI test because that ALWAYS worked out, and it was the case that NIKA’s health plan encouraged tests, and they were paid for in full by the plan. One saving grace was that I had at least two hours to mull over my options, as I was staying for dinner with her parents, and I was sure she wouldn’t risk being caught.

“It’s not a request I would ever have expected, so I need some time to think about it.”

Aisyah nodded and turned back to the counter where she began chopping vegetables. I went to the living room, filled our teacups, and brought them to the kitchen. Aisyah accepted hers, sipped, and set the cup on the counter.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked.

“Men do not typically come into the kitchen,” she replied. “But then, you aren’t a typical man.”

“No, I’m not,” I agreed.

“Let me do this for you, please? As a way of showing appreciation.”

Which was something I could certainly accept.

“OK,” I said, sitting back down on the stool.

I waited a few minutes, then asked my earlier question.

“Aisyah, who told you about The Club?”

“I really don’t want anyone to get in trouble,” she replied.

“I understand, but it’s important that I know.”

Aisyah was quiet for a moment, then turned to look at me.

“I promise I will tell you in the morning, after you’ve had me.”

She immediately turned back to the counter and resumed chopping vegetables. I contemplated what she’d said, and realized that to some, it might look like extortion, when it was actually a simple quid pro quo - in exchange for knowing her, I’d get to know who broke the confidence.

That had to factor into my thinking, though not nearly as much as the number of carbs I’d eaten. I’d taken the fast-acting propranolol, but I wasn’t sure it was sufficient to overcome the excess sugar in my system. I didn’t feel manic, but I also knew my thoughts were coming a mile a minute. That said, I believed I was thinking clearly, and not acting precipitously.

Some would argue, I was sure, that not saying an immediate ‘no’ to Aisyah was a sign I wasn’t thinking clearly, but, as Jennifer had repeatedly said, every rule had to have an exception. I agreed, though with one caveat - the rule against incest. I knew Birgit was working her way up to ask, and when she did, we’d have a difficult conversation where I turned her down, hopefully in a way which kept our relationship intact.

The question was - was this a situation which called for an exception? I’d thought, earlier, that finding out who had talked was worth nearly any cost, and that, too, had to be factored into my thinking. But I couldn’t let that override every other consideration, as important as it was. That said, if the balance was between simply breaking the rule and finding out who was talking, I would probably come down on the side of getting the answer to my question.

Another factor, in an almost ironic reversal of my normal thinking, was that Aisyah was not a virgin, something she had freely admitted. Had she been a virgin, my answer would have been a decisive ‘no’. Coming to a marriage as a virgin in the Muslim community was extremely important, and taking THAT step, given what I knew about Aisyah, was beyond the pale. In fact, I was positive that she told the story for precisely that reason - she knew that if I thought she was a virgin, I’d refuse her request.

Aisyah was very attractive, and certainly a ‘Steve type’ - long black hair, brown eyes, slim, with small breasts, a shapely butt, and long legs. She generally wore loose-fitting clothing, but it didn’t hide her obvious beauty. The same was true, as I thought about it, of Fatimah, which was, among other reasons, why her father kept her under close supervision, and required her to wear a scarf, and never allowed her to wear any form-fitting clothing.

There was one other thing I had to consider - and that was that the exception to the rule I was contemplating had a number of important implications. First, rules exceptions generally required a conversation in advance, though I could exercise the agreement that I was to manage my own sex life, an agreement which took precedence over all others, with the proviso that ‘Rule 0’ was never to be violated in both its incarnations - no incest, and, for purposes of speaking with Jesse, that STI tests were mandatory.

That actually led to another question - who would I have to inform? My wives, obviously, but Liz would need to know, as she had a complete list. It might be the case that Charlie ‘knew’ in that whoever had talked to Aisyah might well have talked to Charlie to add Aisyah to the list. So it could be that Charlie already ‘knew’, even though the actual act, if it happened, would have occurred after she was informed.

There were, of course, any number of risks associated with my decision. First, an exception to the rule at a time when we were potentially tangling with Janice Parker created additional risk, though, I couldn’t see Aisyah taking ANY action to harm me, no matter what the cost. Second, there was the question of how Aisyah would react and what she would expect, which I would have to ask to find out. And third, understanding the implications it might have for my own thinking and behavior in the future.

That last point was important, because, in the past, I’d justified just about everything I’d done in my own mind, even if the justifications were exceedingly thin. I knew myself well enough that I had already justified agreeing to Aisyah’s request, even if I hadn’t formally decided one way or the other. The mere fact I was contemplating it was enough to convince me I’d already justified whichever course of action I might take.

But before I thought further, I actually had a question about something her mom said which I wanted to understand.

“Before, what did your mom mean when she said a ‘white clerk’?”

Aisyah smiled, “She means someone of European heritage, as opposed to Middle Eastern. Quite a few Lebanese use it to refer to Americans and northern Europeans. Unfortunately, for the past month, they’ve had problems with non-Muslim clerks, as well as having fewer non-Muslim customers, so she’s very sensitive at the moment. She wouldn’t use that phrase to describe you, because you respect our faith.”

I was tempted to pose the same question to her that I’d posed to Sarah, but as I thought about it, the parallel wasn’t there, precisely because Aisyah had made that choice thirteen years in the past. I wondered if that had come about exactly as she’d said, or if there had been some hint or encouragement from the man. Thirteen was young, but I had to acknowledge that Birgit was mature enough to make that kind of decision, just as María Cristina had been, though she’d been eighteen, not thirteen.

I sat quietly for several more minutes before I posed the question I felt I needed to ask.

“Will you answer a question for me?” I asked.

“Certainly.”

“What happens tomorrow?”

“That’s up to you.”

“I understand what you mean by that,” I replied. “But I’d like to know what you want and expect.”

“Let me finish here, and set things on simmer, so we can wait for my mom to call and say she and my dad are on their way home.”

I nodded and watched as she finished her preparations, checked everything, then turned and nodded. We picked up our teacups and went to the living room to sit on the couch. I sat down first at one end, and Aisyah, as I would have expected, sat at the other, with a full cushion between us.

“Will you allow me to say what I want to say without interruption?”

“Yes, of course.”

“As I said to you earlier, I let a man have me at thirteen, for which I have no regrets. I bled, as a girl should in that circumstance, but that meant I would not bleed on my wedding night.”

I had promised not to interrupt, but I had to.

“That’s a myth,” I said.

Aisyah smiled and nodded, “I know, and you know, but a Muslim man would expect it and with no blood on the sheets might immediately divorce me, no matter what a doctor might say. There are some men in our mosque who required their brides to be checked for virginity.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, “Short of mind reading or witnesses, a test like that proves nothing.”

“Yes, of course. Will you please let me finish?”

“Sorry,” I replied.

“So, because of what I freely chose to do when I was thirteen, my options are limited. If I want to marry a Muslim man, I either have to lie and hope he accepts that not all girls bleed, or I have to find a Muslim man who would accept that I was not a virgin. The difficulty with that is that there is no good way to know for sure if a man would accept that, and if I told him, and he didn’t accept it, he would certainly make it known to other men. Then I would either have a reputation which would result in men approaching me for sex, while also refusing to marry me.

“Now, if I were a widow, or divorced, then it wouldn’t be a problem, so long as I didn’t marry within the time it’s proscribed to ensure I wasn’t pregnant. There would be no expectation of blood, but it would also reduce the number of men who might be interested, and, some of the younger women who are widowed or divorced tell me that men think they are available for sex.”

I’d encountered that kind of fucked-up thinking time and again with Calvinists and other conservative Christians. I’d once heard that it had been said that Islam was what you got when you applied the principles of the Reformation to Orthodox Christianity, and I had to say there were significant parallels. Christianity, except for a few ultra-conservative groups, had mostly moved past that issue, even if they taught chastity until marriage was the expected norm.