An Infidel in Paradise by S.J. Laidlaw Read Free Book Online

capsules, talking about people and places I’ve left behind, it’s as if they’re talking about a completely different reality, one I can barely remember. I sift through the words, trying to find some common ground, some experience I can share that would shore up my connection to that world, but I come up empty.
    Finally, I highlight the page full of messages from people who used to be my closest friends, and I hit “delete.” I get a prompt asking if I really want to delete everything. Even the computer can’t believe it. I confirm the command and shut it down before I can change my mind.

CHAPTER 7
    “H e’s in your theater class?”
    “Yeah, that’s what I just said.” It’s Monday evening, and, as promised, Angie has come over to my compound to talk strategy about Mustapha. I swat a mosquito.
Do the evening ones carry malaria or dengue fever?
I always forget.
    “And you’re in his group.”
    “Yes.”
    “For the entire week.”
    “Would you please stop repeating everything? I don’t need an instant replay. I lived it. Remember?”
    “Sorry. It’s just that it’s such incredibly bad luck.”
    “You think?”
    Angie walks back on her swing and lets go, whizzing up, rocking the whole swing set dangerously. I’m sitting on the swing beside her, but I keep my feet sensibly anchored to the ground. We’re alone in the little kid playground between the Canadian staff housing and the servants’ quarters. It’s a perfect vantage point forbabysitting, which is what I’ve been doing since our bearer, Guul (a.k.a. The Ghoul), our cook-nanny-roach-killer, went home an hour ago. Mandy and the other compound kids are playing a raucous game of hide-and-seek. The servants’ quarters are out of bounds, but I’m sick of mediating their boundary disputes, so when Mandy races past us, obviously headed in that direction, I don’t say anything.
    Angie continues rocking us both with the power of her swinging. This equipment has got to be older than I am. I’m sure it would be illegal in Canada, but here, the parents are just grateful to have somewhere they can send their kids to get them out of the house. It’s not a bad setup. There aren’t many places in the world where you can let your kids play unsupervised, knowing that they’re never more than a few feet from armed guards – not to mention dozens of servants and groundskeepers.
    “Maybe we should look at this as a good thing,” says Angie.
    “What?”
    “Well, you need to smooth things out with Mustapha, and now you have the perfect opportunity.”
    “Would that be before or after Faarooq lynches me?”
    “You’re having problems with Faarooq? Tahira’s brother?”
    “Is that who he is? He told me to stay away from his sister but forgot the small detail of telling me who she is.”
    “Don’t mind him. Tahira’s brothers don’t approve of many people. They hate Leela.”
    The pretty girl at lunch with the bangle mania?
She seemed nice enough. “Why do they hate Leela?”
    “I don’t know. It may be the whole India and Pakistan thing, the war and everything. And they probably think Leela has too much freedom for a girl who is sort of from their culture, if you know what I mean. I don’t think they approve of any of us, but Leela’s the only one I’ve seen them actually be rude to.”
    “How many brothers does Tahira have?”
    “Three.”
    “No sisters?”
    “No. That’s part of the problem. They think the entire honor of their family rests on Tahira. She has to stay a virgin for, like, forever, and she can’t do anything fun. If she even looks at a guy, it’s a capital offense. They’re always watching her.”
    “Huh.” I don’t know what to say. Obviously, I’m not the only one with problems.
    One of the little kids runs up to us. “Have you seen Mandy?” he asks as he wipes the snot dripping from his nose with the back of his hand and scans the area.
    “Haven’t seen her,” I lie.
    “She didn’t go in the servants’