Butterfly Boy (3)
V
Harry had not made many friends in Saudi Arabia. Apart from being a natural loner, suffering initially from the heartache of separation from his loved ones, he was never a good mixer. There was, however, one man in his organization with whom he had struck up at least a reasonable acquaintanceship. His name was Bill Freisch, an American architect, and nominally Harry’s line manager. The nature of their work meant that such distinctions were fairly meaningless, since Bill designed buildings and Harry supervised their construction. Bill was based in an office downtown and Harry was always at the construction site. As a consequence, they seldom actually met. From time to time, Bill made site visits, or the Saudi management would call staff meetings and arrange social get-togethers. It was at these disparate functions that the two men spent time together and both liked what they had observed in one another.
One afternoon on a Friday, the latter part of the Saudi weekend, Harry and Hakim were both watching a movie in Harry’s villa, when Bill called unannounced with some revisions of plans for urgent construction work that was due shortly. Hakim quietly excused himself to leave the two westerners free to talk and after their discussions were at an end, Bill asked about the young Bengali. Harry simply said he was a friend and that he liked spending time with him. The American’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re screwing him,” he said, matter of factly. Harry blushed and tried to deny it. Bill held up his hand to stop him. “None of my business, Harry. I’m making no judgment here. Just think about what you’re doing, though, will you? This is nothing for you – a bit of biological necessity, if you will. But that young man looks at you with hero worship in his eyes. I hope he’s not going to get hurt.”
Angrily, Harry insisted that there was nothing going on between them and that he was merely being a friend to Hakim. Bill nodded, and their business finished, he left abruptly, leaving Harry to ponder on his previous words. Hakim was on duty in the mess hall that night and Harry didn’t see him for several days. This gave him time to think more seriously about a relationship that was becoming more and more important to him. He was still able to separate his Saudi life from what he preferred to call his real life back home in England. There was no chance those two lifestyles would ever overlap, he thought, and therefore, it was a relatively easy task for him to keep them distinct and apart. Vaguely, he envisaged a time in the future when he’d be free of Saudi Arabia, and that there would be a potentially painful parting. He had promised himself that when such a moment arose, he would try and soften the blow by offering Hakim a substantial sum of money, so that he too, could return home and set himself up as an independent operator. Now, after hearing Bill Freisch’s words, Harry was acutely aware that he was thinking of paying Hakim off, of salving his own conscience with little more than a bribe. He slept badly for the next few nights and missed being able to talk it over with Hakim, even if the subject was unlikely ever to be discussed between them.
It was then that something happened that put all thoughts of Hakim out of Harry’s mind. Once again, he had done well in his work and the new project was underway in good time. It was approaching the height of summer, when most Gulf projects wind down. Harry was again summoned to Faisal’s office, given a substantial and unexpected bonus, and, best of all, a ticket home and an offer of six weeks leave. Faisal had been impressed by the way Harry had handled his earlier disappointment, and wished to make it up to the Englishman. During the course of their conversation, the talk moved on to families and Faisal was curious to know about Penny and Alex.
“So,” he said, smiling. “Your wife is a teacher. I am a parent governor of one of the best private schools in this part of the Kingdom. Why not bring her back with you and she can teach here?”
Harry stared. “But what about accommodation?”
“We’ll give you married quarters on a better compound. Your wife will be transported to and from work, and you will be together. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“It sounds wonderful, but my daughter………….”
“Is about to start her University course, if all goes well. She’d be leaving home anyway. When the time comes for home visits, I will arrange a visit visa and flights for her.”
Faisal beamed at him and Harry, overjoyed, thanked him over and over and wrung his hand. Hakim was the last person on his mind at that moment.
VI
Harry endured a painful meeting with Hakim before he left for England. Haltingly, he tried to explain how important Faisal’s offer was and how he was sorry, but that their relationship would have to end. Hakim listened to it all stony faced and without comment. Harry then talked of money. He wanted Hakim out of Saudi and back home with his family. He wanted to give him a gift of $1,000.00 which he was sure would set the young man up in business in his own country. Hakim appeared to accept the offer and the weekend before Harry’s leave, they visited an international money changers downtown, to ensure the cash was duly dispatched to Hakim’s parents. Throughout the procedure, Hakim appeared distant and unemotional. When they returned to the compound, he refused to accompany Harry back to his accommodation, and they were never alone again. Hurt, Harry did his best to track him down during that last week before leaving, but Hakim managed to elude him, and there wasn’t even time to say goodbye.
In the end, Harry had to hope that the money would be enough for Hakim, and that ultimately the young man would forgive him. During his last hectic days of running around buying presents for his family and moving his things into the new villa he and Penny would be living in on their return, he had little time to reflect on what he was doing to Hakim or how the young man was really taking their parting of the ways.
His leave passed in a flash, and it was without doubt the happiest time he had known for years. Alex’s ‘A’ Level results came in, and were every bit as good as they’d all hoped from her. She would be studying at Leeds University shortly, and was quite happy to see her parents depart for the Kingdom at the end of August. She would stay on in the family home until her course started, then would switch everything off and close the place up until they all returned. She had her own car, so would be able to make the odd visit south to check on the place, but otherwise was impatient to start life as a student.
Penny settled in well in Saudi Arabia and loved the housing they had been provided with. It seemed at long last that Harry’s famous good luck had returned and that they were well on the road to full recovery. One evening, Penny had been required to attend a parents’ evening at her school, and Harry, for once at a loose end, thought about Hakim. He had never heard further from the young man, and was hopeful that he had at least now left Saudi to start up his own business at home. Impulsively, Harry decided to go and visit the old bachelor compound and find out what had happened. He was to regret the impulse for a long, long time.
At first when he drove in, he didn’t recognize anyone. He parked his car and walked over to the mess hall. One or two people greeted him vaguely, but he didn’t see anyone he really remembered. It was then that he saw Mazen, leaning against the wall and eyeing him coldly. He strode up to the man and asked about Hakim. Mazen looked at him with an expression of utter contempt.
“He’s dead,” he said, succinctly. “About a week after you left.”
Harry stared at him in horror. “But how? Why?”
Mazen spat into a nearby waste bin. “Hanged himself. Left a note saying he had done terrible things and all he could hope for was that God would forgive him.”
Harry felt tears welling in his eyes.
“Yes, you can cry now, English,” said Mazen scornfully. “The little Bengali, he loved you. Did you not know that? He would have died for you. Then you dropped him like an old sack and paid him off. You were okay, weren’t you with your big house and your beautiful English wife? He was just a lady boy for you to use when you needed sex, right? But he loved you, English. You killed him as surely as if you pulled that rope yourself. Go home. Go back to your nice life. We don’t want you here.”
Harry left without a word. The pain inside him was insufferable and he felt faint. When Penny came home from her meeting, she found him slumped on a chair in the kitchen, tears still coursing down his face.
“Darling! What is it? Tell me.” He looked up at her concerned face and the pain started afresh.
“Sit down, Pen,” he said softly. “I’m afraid I have a very sad story to tell you.”