The Last Harem by George P. Saunders

Author:George P. Saunders [Saunders, George P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biographies & Memoirs, Memoirs, Specific Groups, Women
Amazon: B0089O8088
Published: 2012-06-05T23:00:00+00:00

***

At 9:45 a.m. the following morning, Mr. Jan arrived. I was already dressed in a modest summer dress, with the hem just above the knee. I wore flats and put my hair back in a pony-tail. I put on very little makeup. When Mr. Jan met me in the lobby of our house, he regarded my appearance with approval.

"You look radiant, Ms. Dorian," he said simply, then held the front door open for me.

It was a ten minute walk from the house to the palace gardens. It was my first time in the inner sanctum of the palace, and it is like no other place on Earth. The flowers that lined the perimeter of the palace, and grew in the huge gardens were the most beautiful I'd ever seen. Most were orchids, the others I did not recognize. Peacocks chortled and walked freely along the walkway and on the lawn. Funny little monkeys with long tails hopped about, allowed to roam freely on the palace ledges. White doves kept company with the peacocks, along with smaller finches with bright red bills called Java Love Birds, I believe.

Servants passed us, involved with their daily chores, and each and every time they bowed our way. I was not sure if it was in deference to Mr. Jan – or to me. The courtesy level in Brunei continued to amaze me.

The Prince sat under a canopy, near a fountain that gushed green water. He was sipping champagne, and dressed completely in white. Gone was the natty little suit that he wore nightly to the parties; that morning, he was attired in sport pants and a button down shirt, left modestly buttoned up to his neck.

He stood with my approach, and extended his hand.

Mr. Jan whispered quickly to me: "Remember, address him as Robin."

For no reason in particular, I curtsied. I had seen the musical, Oklahoma, several months ago (one of George's favorite movies), and I remember all the girls curtseying. It was an old-fashioned custom, but it seemed right at that moment.

I think the curtsey surprised the Prince.

"Good morning," he said to me and smiled.

"Hi, Robin," I said after the curtsy.

"Please, sit down," he said, then nodded to Mr. Jan. This was the signal for Mr. Jan to politely take his leave, which he did.

There was an awkward moment of silence.

"Champagne?" he said at last.

I thought this was a tea thing, but no matter. I preferred a shot of alcohol.

"Please," I nodded, perhaps too fervently.

He poured the champagne – Chrystal – into a glass.

"It was kind of you to join me this morning," he said.

"It was kind of you to invite me," I replied.

He smiled again. There was something intensely likable about this man, though I felt no real sexual attraction for him. My stomach was still in knots at the expected "invitation" for later nocturnal activities. But I had prepared myself with an appropriate reply. I planned, of course, to decline a cocktail later. I had already begun packing earlier that morning; I imagined that day would be my last full day in Brunei.

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