Full Circle

 Longtime readers of my blog will know, Zahir and I met when I was doing the books for my foster family's ranch. It was an agricultural subsidiary of the company we work for. Now like a good Muslim spouse, I am managing the home in addition to my work with him. His mother says I'm doing better than her other daughters-in-law. It's weird since I married her son, our relationship has changed, in many ways she has become more like my mentor. Thankfully we are also friends. Thanks also to her I have become a far better cook. Not much of a joke, I used to burn water. Z is no longer ashamed of me when I cook for our clients and guests.

 One of the older brother's family has moved in with Mama in our old compound. The other wives and kids are now enjoying Mama and my garden. With Zahir and I now gone, the threatening phone calls have stopped both at the compound and at the home office in Amman. I am grateful she is safe and cared for. I would not survive her being lost because of me. I cannot live through that again.

 My readers will also know that Z has no concept of what makes up the middle-class. In his world, middle-class means some people make more than him and others less. His face was so cute when I informed him that the middle class in the U.S. is from roughly $48,000 to $145,000 annually. His reply, "I spent more than fifty on your baby (Kaeleb the dog) this year!" Yes, he did. Then I explained to Zahir the middle-class can vary wildly from state to state in the U.S.

 

Side Note: One person recently asked what happened to the rest of the pack? The outdoor dogs went back to his brother's security firm. Kaeleb's surviving brother went to an American client's daughter. She will be very safe for many years to come.

 The nail in his "I am middle class" argument's coffin was when I showed him how much his G550 costs to fly each year. For those interested in purchasing a private jet, it comes out to almost three million a year. In many ways acquisition is the cheap part. On that topic, he has found a "temporary" home for his G550. He is not happy he thinks it's too far away. I am sure it was no accident but it's the same airport used by the skydiving club we joined. Still, it is less then an hour away by car, or ten minutes by London Heli Shuttle plus the twelve minute ride from the flat to the London heliport.  The Heli Shuttle even has a limo service that picks us up at our flat. Things moved way too fast in London. I am sure I will acclimate soon.

 

 He says when  the London City Airport adds more hangars we will move his bird there. Then there are his friends he calls "hangar whores" and "lounge sluts." I try not to read those terms TOO literally. Those are friends who like a free seat on a private jet to anywhere fun. when you factor in ALL of the costs and fees, on average the flights in the G550 are about $4,000 an hour. When I pointed out how much cheaper commercial flights would be, he replied, "Do you think British Airlines would let me fly their jet?" He said it sweetly but it still felt like, "Shut up kid." The jet is his dream, how can I step on it. It is also nice to be treated like a royal when we travel.

 I try to understand his world, and each time I think I have a handle on it he blows my mind again. Between working and keeping the home "well-ordered," I don't have a lot of free time. Part of keeping the home well-ordered is handling the staff issues. I pay the salaries and make sure the benefits are taken care of. It is so odd having people older than me calling me sir with such respect. All those new duties mean I don't write as much. For me it's a good trade. For my readers not so much. 

 

 We went to an Arabic dance club near our neighborhood. It was right across the street from MI6 (no, James Bond did not appear). I was about to order a vodka martini stirred anticlockwise. Those who actually read Fleming's Bond series of books would get the joke. Before I could attempt my joke order, Z ordered me something sweet and fruity, virgin of course. My honey was very well-received, I was not. As usual I disappeared into the background. I am use to that, Zahir is the sun that lights whatever world he is in.  

 

 Good news, my leash was recently temporarily extended. He let me go out of the building (ALONE) and across the street to the Black Cab Coffee Company to interview a soon to be new member of the staff. Her father requested a public meeting place for our interview. She is our new housekeeper. She comes from a good Jordanian family, and is hoping to be a nurse. Best of all she understands my fingers. It's good for me as well, it will keep me fresh on Levantine Arabic Sign Language. I did tell her ours is a Bedu home, and Zahir prefers to use Arabic with the staff. She relaxed big time when I told her that I was Zahir's spouse, NOT just his boy. It turns out she has a Scottish girlfriend, Z knew this but failed to tell me. I felt like I was walking on eggshells till then, what a relief.

 

 The best part is she does not speak our dialect of Bedu. I can understand it, but I do not have the vocal range to reply. It is a subtle language for a subtle people. A simple change in inflection of one word can completely change the meaning of a sentence. Zahir tries to ask simple yes or no questions when he uses it with me.

 

[Update: We gave her the official word lastnight. Z took her around the flat showing her where all my EpiPens are stored. No scorpions in this country (that I know of) but they do have bees. After Z verified that I explained the terms of her employment, I showed her where I like everything stored. I'm the queen of this castle. Her eyes damn near bugged out when I showed her the housekeepers' quarters. Our staff is always well cared for.]

 

 Things are going well, though we are traveling a lot. Zahir always makes time for me. We have started a new evening tradition with our stroll along the Thames. He's finding walking parks we can stroll around in. It's not my garden in Amman, but they are green. For now he is keeping me in Nine Elms and Vauxhall. LONDON IS HUGE!!!! He says he's afraid of letting me go further until I get my voice repaired. I guess we'll see, after all he's only lied to me the once. For the record, there was a very good justification for that one. 

 

BONUS: Officially THIS is Zahir's LEAST favorite sculpture!

 

It is called "Modern Marriage" and rests [I have been informed the proper term is "it is installed"] just up the road from our flat. 

[I kinda like it.]

 

 Zahir will be putting me back in driving school. He says once I have my voice I will need to be able to navigate in our new domain. I think her majesty may have issues with his choice of words.

Chris [aka Chase]