The Incident

Marie was just about to get up from her chair when the door from the hallway opened. Or rather, slammed open. Quickly. Violently. It crashed into the wall, and the noise startled everyone in the room.

A man staggered in, then paused as if he needed to collect himself. When he noticed the many women, he grinned like a little boy who had stumbled into an unattended candy store. His shirt was wide open, his collar was crumpled, and his face shone red. His blurry eyes wandered aimlessly around the room. He seemed unfocused, as if he didn't know what he was looking for.

Then he saw Marie.

His grin widened. He took a step toward her.

Marie felt her body tense up before she even understood what was happening. She sat up halfway in her chair.

The man didn't come any closer.

Not because someone was blocking his path, but because he noticed the bodyguard.

The bodyguard was still standing motionless against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He didn't even look directly at the other man. A slight shift in his weight was enough to make it clear that he had a claim on Soraya and Marie.

The drunk's grin disappeared as if someone had flipped a switch. He snorted quietly and contemptuously, then turned away.

Soraya smiled: “You see how important it is to have a man around.”

Marie didn't answer. She wasn't used to relying on a male protector. Her single mother taught her to stand on her own two feet. And her grandmother, whose name she bore (* see note below), taught her that if a woman is self-confident enough, she could hold her own against any man.

The man staggered further into the room. His attention was caught by another young woman, barely older than Marie. She was sitting at a dressing table, wearing a light-colored, off-the-shoulder dress, her hands still holding the pencil to her lips, as if she had paused in mid-motion.

“You. Come with me,” he growled, grabbing her by the arm.

The woman did not pull away from his grip, but she stiffened. “I can't,” she said quickly. “Someone else is picking me up.”

This seemed to amuse him rather than deter him.

“I don't care.”

He pulled her up. The chair tipped over. He dragged her toward the exit. A soft, polyphonic gasp rippled through the room, but no one rose. No one shouted. No one stood in his way. The other women lowered their gaze, as if they had seen this happen many times before and understood that there was nothing they could do about it.

The young woman tried to break free. “Please,” she said, growing desperation in her voice. “He'll be here soon. If I'm not there, he'll get angry.”

The man didn't answer, at least not with words. His hand swung out, hard, unchecked. The blow echoed loudly in the large room. The woman's head flew to the side, and she lost her balance, just managing to catch herself on the edge of a table to keep from falling to the floor.

Marie wanted to jump up.

Soraya's hands rested on her shoulders. Light as a feather, yet stronger than iron chains. The message was clear: Don't interfere.

“No,” she hissed warningly.

Marie looked up. “But he hit her.”

“I know.” Soraya’s gaze seemed dispassionate.

“She doesn't want to go with him. She said so clearly. We have to help her.” Marie was so agitated that she was close to tears.

Soraya leaned closer, her voice barely more than a whisper. “It's none of our business. She has no protection. He can do whatever he likes with her.”

Marie stared at her, too upset to say anything.

“Women have no rights. They must obey every man. At all times. Only another man who claims her can intervene and defend her.”

The intoxicated man pulled the young woman further toward the door. She no longer resisted. Briefly, her eyes met Marie’s—the fleeting glance was empty and hopeless.

Then they were gone.

The door closed. The room breathed again. Chairs were set up, mirrors adjusted, lips redrawn, hair shaken out.

Marie trembled, Soraya's hands holding her down.

“You mustn't forget where you are.”

Marie understood: this country was ruled by order. And that order was unshakeable because everyone knew when to look away.