This room had a similar feel, but with a much more modern twist. The ceilings were tall, lending more vastness to an already-spacious room. None of the furniture was ostentatious, at least not at first glance; indeed, the entire suite had an almost spartan feel, at least in comparison to the Ritz. Yet the tiles and wood floors, the vibrant accent walls and dark wood furniture, lent it a modern appeal that was as rich as anything I’d seen in Paris. The farther I ventured into the suite, in fact, the bigger I realized it was. “This is my room?” I asked incredulously.
Amyrah nodded. “Your two men will be in the suites beside this,” she said, blushing. “My brother finds it unseemly for an unmarried woman to share a room with a man.”
My two men? “Oh, no,” I said quickly, shaking my head emphatically. “They’re not both mine, seriously.”
“I am not judging you,” Amyrah continued quickly, mistaking my answer. “Many westerners come here with their own beliefs and practices. But my brother is very strict on the separation of sexes, at least while you are his guests.”
My jaw worked soundlessly and I groaned inwardly. This wasn’t a reaction I’d expected, and hearing the girl beside me speak so candidly made me blush. “I belong to neither of the men I’m with,” I said firmly, telling myself that it was not technically a lie. “What’s downstairs?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.
“The main floor has a variety of shops, catering to the hotel’s diverse clientele.” This part seemed almost a rote delivery, as if she’d rehearsed or practiced this part several times. “The concierge can help you with any tour options, and access to a private car comes as an option with these rooms.” Amyrah beamed at me. “You can also ask me any questions and I will do my best to help you.”
I studied the girl before me. “You live here in the hotel, don’t you?” Something about the delivery of that speech made me think she was often called to help out the guests.
Amyrah flushed and looked down shyly. “We do have a family home,” she conceded, “but when my parents died, my brother moved me here permanently.”
The simple way she spoke about her parents’ death made my heart break. “I lost my parents a few years back too,” I murmured, looking around the room to control my sudden tears.
“Oh!” Amyrah touched my arm. “I am so sorry for your loss.”
I almost broke down in tears at her selfless expression. Time, it seemed however, had given me enough strength not to do so; the memory hurt, but it was not the horrible ache I’d once been faced with. A thought occurred to me and I latched on like a bulldog. “That’s it, we’re going shopping.”
The sudden change in conversation left Amyrah blinking. “What?”
I smiled at her surprise, tugging at her arm. “Come shopping with me. We don’t have to buy anything, but we can still have fun. Anyway, the guys are probably doing their manly stuff, so let’s be girls for once.”
A bemused smile crossed the girl’s face, and I winked. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”
As it turned out, Amyrah was a lot of fun when it came to “girl stuff”. The rarity of this kind of trip for her was immediately apparent. From the way she ogled many of the window treatments for the stores, I could tell she didn’t do this often. She knew where each and every store in the hotel was located, but her wide eyes told me she rarely, if ever, went inside.
So I dragged her into several high-end boutiques, pulling out dresses and holding them up against her. The idea of showing her legs or arms in public seemed scandalous to the Arab girl, so I changed my criteria a bit and began looking at floor-length, long sleeves gowns. Not too surprising, there were quite a few of those to be had, as well as many different headscarves in a variety of styles. For me, it was a slight culture shock; from the outside, the stores all looked like what you’d find in expensive American shopping areas. Once you started taking a closer look however, their selection obviously catered to a different, more local crowd.
Amyrah tried on several of the more colorful scarves and I was able to see her with her with her hair down. She really was a pretty girl, with long hair as dark as her brother’s. I finally managed to get her to try one some of the dresses, promising her that nobody else would see her. It took a few dresses before she let me see her in a floor-length, long-sleeved red gown that went up to her neck but otherwise showed her curves. She fidgeted in front of me, tugging at the fabric. “It’s very tight.”
As far as I could see it was probably a size too big, but I beamed at her. “You look fantastic!”
A shy smile tugged at her lips. “I do, don’t I?” she murmured, looking at herself in the mirror. Then her face fell. “But my brother would never approve.”
“He doesn’t have to know about...”
“My brother knows everything.” She pinched her lips. “I should not have done even this.”
I tried not to let her see my own disappointment when she walked out of the dressing room in her old clothes. “Not even any of the scarves?” I asked, and saw the reluctance in her face as she shook her head.
“Thank you for coming with me,” she said, lips tugging up in a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Well, this didn’t turn out like I’d planned. Not that I’d had much of a plan, but I hadn’t thought things would end on a sour note. There was a lot about Arab culture I didn’t get, but I could see that Amyrah was unhappy, and I felt like much of the blame was mine. We exited the shop quietly, heading back toward the lobby, and I snuck a look at the other girl. I’d been cooped up with too much testosterone lately; first, locked in a house under constant guard, then stuck aboard a ship full of men.
What I really wanted to do was be girly, even if only for a little while, but apparently I’d screwed that up too.
“Listen,” I said, trying to salvage the day, “I had fun. I’m sorry if I pushed you down a road you didn’t like, but I’ll try to be better.” I poked at my clothing. “What I need right now is to change out of these clothes and wash up, but maybe we can meet down here afterwards?”
I didn’t realize I’d been bracing myself for a refusal until I saw her answering smile and felt the tension drain out of my body. “I would love to,” she said, her air regal but the smile showing her true feelings, and I grinned back in response.