Between the Grapevines

4. Arba'a

As Riyad stepped through the wooden door, he recognized the familiarity in the apartment because it remained in the same order he'd last seen it. The living room couch lining the wall to his right stood separated by a low coffee table from the two cushioned seats. They framed the shelf of books carrying the ancient television that hadn't been used in so long, he wondered if it still operated at all. On the opposite side of the left chair, the bedroom door had been left ajar to truly showcase the privacy it offered. Still, within, Riyad caught a glimpse of the neat bed and balcony door on the right side of the space.

On his left, the kitchen entrance stood a few feet from the doorway perpendicular to the bathroom door that had been repainted a deep brown shade. The squared table with only room for two seat placed across one another rested along the wall that connected both. It was only a few days ago he'd entered the space to call Amer down to a meeting with the others.

Now, walking in with the girl he'd just entered a binding marriage with, it felt different. Riyad pushed the door open as she stepped in after him, still in the same clothing she'd been wearing for the past few days. Sitting on the floor of the second tent with their eyes caught on one another's and the Sheikh between them, they had signed the marriage contract and promised one another trust, protection, and respect.

"The bedroom will be yours," he spoke softly, finding that his voice seemed so much louder now in the silent space that surrounded them. She turned to him, holding a black bag of clothes they'd put together for her to use until she could buy others. "I will sleep on the couch for now. The bathroom is that way and the kitchen is next to it."

The girl's eyes slipped away to take in the apartment around her, identifying the locations of all she would find necessary for the comfortably living she'd been promised. With the Sheikh acting as her Wali, any requests she could not convey to Riyad, she would send to him. Farhan was determined to keep the Sheikh's involvement in the matters of their marriage as minimal as they could manage.

When she turned back to Riyad, her eyes were open with a new purpose. She slid her fingers over her stained cheek then motioned over her shoulder to the closed bathroom door.

"You want to shower?" He repeated.

She nodded.

"Of course," Riyad averted his gaze from the girl at the mere thought of it. He'd never been married before, much less lived in the same residence as a person of the opposite gender, so he'd nearly forgotten about such insignificant yet towering daily habits they would have to do in the company of one another. Still, Riyad was determined to give the girl all the comfort she required. "I'll wait in the camp until you're finished. When you're ready for me to come up, turn on the balcony light."

The girl bowed her head once in understanding.

When Riyad rounded the building on his way to the camp, he found the Sheikh still sat patiently on the benches surrounding the unlit fireplace, his fingers working at the sibha naturally held against his palms. He patiently watched the evening wind blow over the greenery of the grapevine fields until his ears caught crunch of sand beneath Riyad's approaching feet. A kind smile illuminated his features when he turned to call him over. "Ah, my boy. Come join me. I was awaiting your return."

"Me?" Riyad rounded the fireplace to sit on the wooden bench.

The elderly man nodded, running his hands through the white beard that nearly reached his chest in length. It brushed against the white thobe that covered his arms and fell just above his ankles, revealing the leather sandals that elevated him an inch or two off the uneven grounding beneath him. "You are our newly married man, are you not?" He asked, his eyes softened in an expression far from threatening. Still, the question pulsed an uneasy tension throughout Riyad's body.