Pushing wavy brown hair from a high forehead, Craig, gazing upward, sighed to himself, "How did I manage to land in Saudi Arabia again." The sun beat down relentlessly, as if it denied the very existence of the sky. It was October, yet it felt hot enough to be mid-July.
During the Gulf War, he was a technical advisor to the PATRIOT troops in the field. Craig had not pictured himself returning to Saudi, but here he was again. This time, living on the west coast in Jeddah, the jewel of the Red Sea, made living easier.
Craig’s second-story apartment was in a brand new luxurious, compound. These delightful accommodations were spacious and well furnished. The extra rooms enabled him to set up a gym. Although not a fitness fanatic, he did practice a daily exercise routine. This disciplined ritual had rewarded him with a muscular physique, despite his medium height and slender legs.
As a young man Craig had lived the high life. His career as a field engineer had taken him all over the world, where he partied with the best of them. Darkened circles shading steely blue eyes seemed just reward for such excitement. Not handsome in the striking Hollywood sense, his face held a quality of vulnerability and strength that never left him short of female company.
Moving across the compound and past the main gate, he waved to the guard in the security booth and opened the door to the office. From behind the desk, the manager on the phone silently motioned for him to take a seat. The air conditioning was welcome relief, while he waited for an end to the phone call. Tony, the compound manager, was a tall man in his early forties. Spending a great deal of time outside, his already-swarthy complexion had deepened to a rich brown tan.
Upon their first meeting, Craig assumed Tony was Arabic. However, after hearing him speak with a strong British accent, that thought was immediately dispelled. Later, he learned Tony was British, but of Portuguese descent. Having lived in the Middle East for the last ten years, Tony had experienced meaningful highs that often plummeted into lasting, serious lows. Yet he always tried to appear, friendly and helpful. Putting down the phone, he smiled and said, "How can I help you, Craig?"
"I’m in need of some office furniture," he answered. "Can you recommend a store? I don’t have a lot to spend, but the boss expects to see something that looks good."
"If you hold on a minute, I’ll take you to a good store I know," replied Tony. As they walked to the car, Tony mentioned that he would like to stop by his apartment, along the way.
The car pulled up, and Tony switched off the engine. Turning to Craig, he invited him upstairs to meet his wife. Craig reluctantly but politely agreed. Walking to the side entrance that led upstairs, Tony remarked that his wife, together with a Saudi partner, owned the salon situated on the ground floor of the building.
In appearance there was nothing spectacular about this average brunette. Suzzan was thirty-seven years old and had been married to Tony for nineteen years. She had fought the "battle of the bulge" for most of her adult life, and conceded the war was not over yet. Still, she knew Tony found her attractive, and that was enough to give her the confidence needed to face the world.
Their marriage had been in trouble for some time. They had both talked about separation, but decided to wait for a few more years because there were positive aspects of the marriage. Communication was not a problem, and they could honestly discuss their feelings with each other. However, their relationship now was as friends, rather than lovers.
Suzzan had lived with her husband, in Saudi, for nearly ten years. In some ways, her life was easier to bear than for many other expatriate wives. Lots of Middle Eastern women have trouble occupying their time while their husbands are at work. Saudi Arabia frowned on women working and, as a rule, the only work available was nursing or teaching. Suzzan was fortunate in that she had entered a career as a hairdresser, which was not limited to the West. The government did not encourage beauty parlors; however, after obtaining a tailor license, the owners would incorporate a beauty salon in the business. This was how Suzzan and her Saudi partner succeeded in opening their salon in Jeddah. It had been far from easy, and there were times when she had almost given up. Staffing was a constant concern, since there were only two sources from which to draw: one source being the wives of expatriates; the other entailed the recruitment of third-country nationals under Saudi sponsorship. Suzzan used both avenues in staffing the salon. The employees proved very loyal and hard working, resulting in a thriving business within two years.
Since the opening of the salon, Suzzan had become aware of a pending change in her life. It was nothing she could put her finger on, though, except the feeling that something was going to happen to her. She was not unduly worried, though, as often she had found herself compelled in a direction not always of her choosing.
Suzzan had recently returned from vacationing with a friend in Cyprus. Due to business commitments, Tony did not accompany them. Although she had let her hair down and really enjoyed herself, the feeling of well being had been short-lived. Now, this black cloud loomed over head. Again it was nothing specific, just a feeling of being on the brink of some portentous event.
Feeling like her vacation had been a year ago, rather than just weeks, Suzzan locked the heavy wooden doors to the salon. It had been a long, hard day, and she was very tired. Climbing the stairs to the apartment above, Suzzan wondered if her husband would be home soon.
Later, hearing his key in the door and the sound of male voices told Suzzan that Tony had someone with him. This did not surprise her, as it was a regular occurrence for him to bring people home without prior warning. Putting down her coffee, she rose to greet the guest. Craig stepped forward, extending a hand to introduce himself. Suzzan took his hand and smiled, then asked him to take a seat. His commanding presence and pleasantly honest face struck her. The three engaged in polite conversation until Tony excused himself and left the room.
To break the awkward silence, Suzzan innocently asked, "Is your wife with you?"
Craig replied, "No, I’m divorced." Pausing a moment, he candidly added, "I was married three times, but all three of my wives cheated on me."
A little taken aback at Craig’s forthrightness, Suzzan fell silent. While he talked, she pondered why all three women had betrayed his trust. What kind of husband was he? Her thoughts were interrupted when Tony rejoined them. Then, with Tony’s insistence that Craig see the salon, they took their leave of her and headed down the stairs.
