Explain It To Me

“Let me sit down.”

She virtually pushed him off the desk chair.

“All right. But don’t do anything rash. Please.”

She scrolled through the list, just as David had done before. The titles of the entries meant little to her; to him, they were too obvious.

She randomly selected a line and clicked on it. An illustrated page opened. Explicit thumbnails. Each one a variation on the same theme: women in hijabs. Just hijabs, nothing else. Depicted in a way that their demure dress code should actually prohibit.

Samira tilted her head. Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. She tried to understand what she was seeing.

“It's just advertising. Pop-ups. Basically just junk. You can click it away.” He shrugged exaggeratedly, trying to sound forcedly casual.

Her gaze remained fixed on the images.

For a moment, there was silence in the room. The air seemed to become thicker.

“Samira...” He paused, not knowing what to say. It felt too personal for him to talk to her about it.

Her chin lifted slightly. “Please. Explain it to me. What is this?” Her voice didn't sound agitated, just insistent. What was she feeling? Shame? Anger?

Even as she waited for an answer, she began to understand what she was seeing. Now the blush rose to her cheeks. Her mouth opened slightly, the tip of her tongue running over her suddenly dry lips.

Daniel looked away, granting her this little bit of privacy.

After a long moment, she spoke in a broken voice that reflected her vulnerability: “So this is what he looks at when he says he has to work late. When I'm already in bed waiting for him to come to me. Why? Daniel, can you explain to me why men look at things like this when they have a real woman by their side?” Her hand remained on the mouse, her fingers clawing around it as if they needed something to hold on to.

All he could manage was a quiet, “I'm sorry.”

She shook her head to show him that there was nothing for him to apologize for. Her gaze lifted and for the first time she looked at him without shyness.