Excerpt… (names changed to protect identities)

That night, the Queen Alia Centre seemed as large as the Queen Alia Airport. I could not see the walls at either end due to the mass of people on each side. As with most weddings, a large dance floor separated the audience in half, with the musicians at one end of the room, which is where I stayed. One side was a sea of infinite shining diamonds, poofy hair, and pastel organza gowns among well-tailored tuxedos. The other side was a sea of black. The women were veiled, and if their faces showed, they were adorned with tattoos and facial piercings.

My musicians were in tuxedos. I had never seen them dressed up before, and they were an impressive, good-looking bunch. I took comfort in their familiar faces. They played my usual set, but it was bittersweet. This was the last show with them until I could return to Jordan, but who knew if and when that would be? I savored riding the intimate melodies. I tried to steal the pulse of every word in every song. I allowed the solo of each musician to swallow me whole. But I was also anxious to finish the show because all that filled my head was the sight of Afrah’s bruises and how my cursed soul could have brought harm to her. My heart thirstily drank in the music, but my body was on autopilot, and my eyes focused on the musicians.

We performed the finale, and I bowed to the bride and groom, who were so far away they looked like a fluffy cushion of white with a black dot in the middle. I bowed to the very different sides of the room, one dark and mysterious and the other beyond opulence. Then I turned to all the musicians and scandalously blew them kisses with a lingering one for the accordion player. We had never spent time offstage together, but I knew the character of each musician through the instrument he played. An intimate relationship had developed through our many artistic adventures together over the past three months. And I would surely miss the accordion player’s nightly love notes.

After I dressed and packed, my bodyguard escorted me to a large office where all the musicians were waiting. I had dealt with the manager of the government-run TV station before when they interviewed me. He was the one who hired me for this wedding, and now he was pacing nervously. He approached to ask if I would please perform again. I was not having any of it. I wanted to return to my hotel room and call Afrah to see if she was okay. Then the Lebanese drummer came over and took me aside, the first time he had spoken to me since three months earlier in rehearsal.

He explained in a very gentle voice that things were different in Jordan than in Canada. ”Yasmeen, some people here have a lot of power,” he said, “and ‘no’ is not an option. One man in the audience has requested that you perform again. It is just one short song. Please do this for our last night together.” I stormed over to the manager with hands on my hips and a big smile. To dance for one song, I asked for an amount that was four times what I had just been paid to dance for 45 minutes. I thought they would never agree and I could get out of there. As the TV station manager hurried me back to the dressing room, he placed a thick wad of American hundred dollar bills in my hand, more than I had earned all month.

The accordion player looked upset. The drummer stood tall and proud, motioning to the table on his left as I returned to the stage. The table went on forever. Who was this important person? No one stood out. They all wore the same tuxedos, had the same haircuts, and sported the same mustaches. I thought that if my encore was so important, he should at least let himself be known. I felt put out and impatient to return to my room and figure out how to save Afrah.

It was three in the morning for me, but it was eight o’clock the night before Toronto time. I phoned my youngest brother and told him the story of my best friend, Afrah. I explained how upset I was and that I needed to help her. He was always up for an adventure, so I asked him to marry her only on paper with no other responsibilities. I wanted her to have an opportunity to start a new life in Canada away from danger.