Princess Sultana's Circle by Jean Sasson Page B

now a man with everything in life but
good health. When he had suffered a serious medical setback
recently, every member of our family had been reminded of our own
mortality, and the fact that all the money and modern health care
in the world could not keep death at bay forever.
    Sara’s firm tone relaxed,
“Sultana, you must learn to bear the pain of life without reaching
for improper solutions.” She nudged a whiskey bottle aside with her
foot. “You have become the slave of a new power, a power that is in
danger of creating even more serious problems than the ones that
drove you to drink!”
    I then divulged my deepest
fear. “Amani might tell Kareem.”
    Sara told me flatly, “You
tell him first. Anyhow, it’s best not to keep secrets from your
husband, Sultana.”
    I looked closely at my
sister. Without a trace of rancor, I realized that I had always
been outshone by her beauty and by her virtue.
    Even though she had been
called from her home unexpectedly, Sara was impeccably dressed in a
freshly ironed silk dress, with shoes of matching color. An
exquisite set of pearls was fastened around her delicate neck. Her
thick black hair was fashioned in a flattering style; her skin
lovely; her eyelashes were so long and thick that she required no
make-up.
    Sara’s personal life
paralleled her perfect appearance. Her marriage to Asad was the
best I had ever known. I had never heard her raise her voice to her
husband, or even complain about him. Many times I had tried to
tempt Sara to confide a weakness belonging to her husband, without
success. While I was guilty of shouting at, pinching, and even
slapping my children, I had never seen Sara lose control with any
of her children. My sister was the satisfied mother of the six
children that Huda, our family slave, had predicted so many years
before.
    Although problems
occasionally arose with her second child, a daughter named Nashwa,
Sara remained gently firm. Sara even had established a warm
relationship with Asad and Kareem’s mother, the unpopular and
difficult Noorah. In addition, my sister was one of the few Al
Sa’uds I knew who never drank alcohol nor smoked cigarettes.
Certainly, Sara had no secrets to keep from her husband. How could
such a flawless woman ever understand that as I grew older, my bad
habits had increased, rather than diminished?
    It seemed that my life had
always been imbued in some deep intrigue. My drinking was only one
of the many secrets I kept from Kareem. Over the years of our
marriage, I had presented myself in a more flattering light to my
husband than was true. I even lied to Kareem about the number of
kilos I had recently gained!
    Not wishing to further
disappoint my sister with additional knowledge of the weaker points
of my character, I kept from blurting out everything that had come
into my mind. Instead, I hastened to promise, “I will never drink
again, if only I do not have to confess to Kareem. I could not bear
it. He would never forgive me.”
    “ Oh? What do you think
Kareem might do?”
    I stretched the truth
mightily. “Well, he might beat me.”
    Sara’s black eyes grew
large with disbelief.
    “ You know yourself, Sara,
that Kareem dislikes people who cannot control their habits. At the
very least, his love for me will dim.”
    Sara’s hands fluttered,
“Then what will we do to destroy this habit? The servants told me
that you drink to the point of drunkenness when Kareem is
away.”
    Indignantly I demanded,
“Who said such a thing?”
    “ Sultana. Curb your anger.
The information was given out of genuine concern for your
well-being.”
    “ But…”
    Sara’s voice was firm and
unsympathetic, “No. I will not tell you.”
    I tried to think which of
the servants might have spied on me, but with so many women in the
palace, there was no way to be certain where to direct my
anger.
    Sara pursed her lips,
thinking. “Sultana, I have an idea. Ramadan will soon be upon us.
At that time, you will be unable to eat or drink