“I couldn’t stand your first two wives any more than could ummi, probably because they were just like her with their guilt, control, and manipulations. I cherished my nephews, but Nouf and Amal?” Aaliyah shook her head. “Not a bit.”
“You know as well as I do that those were political marriages. It is beneath you to speak ill of the dead, Liyah.”
“You miss my point, Momo.”
“Then what is it?”
“Finally you marry a woman who doesn’t have a manipulative, deceitful bone in her body and you dare to pretend the trouble between her and ummi is Viviana’s?” Aaliyah clucked her tongue. “The woman even warned you she plans to run! Who is that honest?”
He didn’t know whether to laugh or groan so the sound that came out of him was a mixture of both. “Yes she did, didn’t she?”
Aaliyah smiled. “I don’t know what happened to ummi after daddy died, but she’s out of control and we both know it. Momo, every day she becomes more intolerable! I know she is our mother, but you are the head of this household. The responsibility of her behavior lies with you in the eyes of Allah.”
Muhammad was well aware of that fact. He didn’t know how to handle the delicate situation so he hadn’t yet broached it. It was apparent he now had to. It was either that or purchase approximately one hundred thousand nails. “I will deal with this as soon as we reach Raqqah.”
Aaliyah’s eyebrows rose. “We’re returning to the United Arab Emirates?”
“It isn’t safe here. Not so long as al-Baghdadi remains in power.”
“I thought—”
He raised his hand. “Say nothing until we’re safely gone.”
Aaliyah slowly nodded. “When do we leave?”
“The plane is being fueled as we speak.”
She blew out a breath. “Wallah, I am so pleased with this decision. I’m going mad here with nothing to do!”
Muhammad stood up. He bent his head and kissed his sister atop hers. “You are wrong about one thing, Liyah.”
“What is that?”
“I will not let ummi keep you with her forever. I will begin searching for a suitable husband when we’re out of this Godforsaken land.”
Aaliyah grinned. “When I was a child you promised me I would have the final say.”
“I neither forget nor break my promises.” He sighed. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have a wife to carry kicking and screaming to the plane.”
* * * * *
Unfortunately, Muhammad’s prediction wasn’t far off. Viviana didn’t bother with screaming, but she did a hell of a lot of kicking and protesting. She dropped her full body weight to the ground, which amounted to nothing for Muhammad. Throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, she burned his ears with every expletive under the sun and some new ones he’d never heard. He bemusedly decided his favorite was “Sheikh Shithead”. When he announced that meant she was “Sheikha Shithead” she became impossibly more furious, pounding on his back with her fists to underscore as much.
Finally, all four of them were on his private plane and well out of Syrian airspace. Only two of the passengers were speaking to each other—Muhammad and Aaliyah. His mother and his wife both sat in their seats, arms crossed over their chests, both of them feigning an interest in the clouds outside their windows. Viviana might not have been like ummi in many ways, but when it came to pouting they were more or less twins.
“I’m sorry.”
Muhammad’s head shot up at the sound of his mother’s voice. She continued to stare out the window, but the words had been spoken. He just wasn’t certain to whom.
“Me too.”
This from Viviana. She too didn’t look away from the window. Muhammad’s eyebrows rose.
“I have become a bitter old woman,” his mother said. “I don’t blame you for hating me.”
“I don’t hate you,” Viviana muttered. “The only hate I have in my heart is reserved for whoever killed my parents.”
Muhammad and Aaliyah stole a bewildered glance at each other. They both decided to stay quiet.
