12:12 P.M. Ma’ar ye zhad, Azakistan AA’IDAH SAT STIFFLY, legs pressed together, hands clasped in her lap to stop the shaking. This time, her father had given permission for her to eat with Zaahir al-Farouk. They sat inside, which was a shame because the noontime weather was mild and enticing. The ceiling-high windows flaunted rich orangish curtains, which were swept back and tied. Traditional low tables, inlaid with intricate geometrical patterns and polished to a high gleam, waited in front of long seats to be filled with dishes: chelow kabab, Tah-chin rice, appetizers, bread, condiments, and side dishes. It was much too fancy for lunch. Her father and Zaahir sat at right angles to her, and she sat beside Shukri. Zaahir beamed and nodded and seemed very pleased. She felt his eyes on her frequently as he spoke with her father. The men discussed politics, which inevitably led to complaints against Prime Minister al-Muhaymin’s government and his pro-Western leanings.
