Black Keys (The Colorblind Trilogy #1) - Rose B. Mashal Page 0,5

him looking at the stupid thing in sorrow made my insides tighten. He looked so sad. For a moment, I wondered why something so insignificant would affect him that much, but I couldn’t just go on my way knowing it meant as much to him as it obviously did.

I shook my head and huffed, taking a few steps back to him, then took the cloth from him. “Fine,” I said harshly. “But I’m not happy about it.” I straightened the stupid thing in my hands, and put it loosely over my head and shoulders.

It wasn’t until I had it on that a memory flashed in my mind, not exactly a memory but more like something I’d seen on TV years ago. It was when Hillary Clinton was visiting this very same country and putting a similar thing over her own head. Hillary Clinton was one of the most powerful women I’ve ever known, so strong and effective. I couldn’t imagine her being manhandled by anyone, and I thought that maybe Joseph was right after all–it could be only a sign of respect.

That very thing led me to notice just how important the people I was going to meet were, for someone like Hillary Clinton to visit them more than one time to discuss things that were important to both countries.

With a sigh, I put my shades on; I didn’t want them to see the rage in my eyes since that wouldn’t be ‘respectful’ or whatever. I had to show my brother’s in-laws that I wasn’t disrespectful–no matter how much I despised their religion or loathed their race.

Snap! Did I just say ‘Race’?

My God!

Down the stairs of the plane, we were greeted by a large number of people. Well, men to be clear. Not even one woman in sight. Most of them were dressed in those weird dresses that Joseph had told me was their official costume, called a ‘thawb’. All of their ‘dresses’ were really, really, really white – it was almost blinding. On their heads was some kind of scarf shaped in a neat way that was either white or white and red. On top or around it –I wasn’t sure–was a thin black circle that I assumed was holding it in place.

I couldn’t deny that with the tan, bronzed or pale skin they had that they were very handsome, with the dark eyes and dark hair that was on either their chins or above their lips, or both–if not a complete beard.

They shook my hand politely with a nod of their heads and a small smile as I passed one after another in the line they’d made, mesmerized by their tall frames and built forms– hardly any of them weren’t fit.

My lips were pressed into a line as I offered a tight smile in greeting to each one of them. But then my mouth fell slightly agape as I felt like I was shocked by electricity when I shook hands with the last one.

My eyes darted from our joined hands up to his face. The words ‘very handsome’ wouldn’t do him justice. He was a sight to look at, an attractive young man with pale skin. A soft gasp escaped my parted lips when I looked into the bright green garden that was his eyes, eyes that were trapped by thick long lashes that were a beauty in and of themselves. His soft features were toughened by the sharpness of his jaw, a jaw that was growing dark brown hair that was more like scruff than a beard, and a slight sign of a mustache where it should be.

His own lips parted slightly when I took off my sunglasses with my free hand to get a better look at his outstanding features. He stared into my eyes for a few moments before his lips formed the most beautiful crooked smile I’ve ever seen in my whole short life, bright teeth shining like pearls when his smile widened a bit. The very same smile that was so infectious that I couldn’t not smile brightly back at him, a smile that widened even more when he offered me a bouquet of red roses that looked more like the kind you’d pick from a garden in heaven.

Bitterly and against my will, I released his hand, because I had to. But then I took the bouquet from him, whispering a small ‘‘thank you,’’ which he returned with another smile, his hand moving to push the white and red material that was above