No Dancing with Death

He had perfectly formed lips in a sunny smile, gentle eyes, golden skin, and soft, curly chestnut hair. All atop a tall, lanky, fit body clothed in crisp pants and a dress shirt. I decided he was kind with his eloquent mannerisms. His spacious office was outfitted with comfortable, modern, beige, and white furniture. Nothing was heavy and imposing like most of the home and office decor in Amman in 1990.

After being served tea and pastries with the usual exchange of family history and ‘how do I like Jordan’ talk, the singer Joseph and this beautiful man began to speak in Arabic. They discussed an upcoming party and the performance for which we would be hired. Since he was no longer talking to me, I had no excuse to admire him further. Besides, I think my staring was getting embarrassing.

I decided to check out the many photographs displayed on the walls of his office.  Each image included this beautiful man and a different world leader, most of whom I recognized, including two recent American presidents. All the duets stood in front of an airplane.

I was giddily content, and my belly was warm. ‘Maybe this charming man would fall in love with me once he saw me perform. Maybe I would marry him and live in Jordan.’ I imagined a simple life in Amman where I felt safe. I would bring lunch to my husband every day in his lovely office. We would have three children and bring them to dinner parties. I would be normal, never lonely, and part of a large family.

Eventually, a lull in business talk happened, so with all the charm I could muster, I thought I would demonstrate an interest in his life by asking if he was a pilot and airplane enthusiast.

“No. why do you ask?” he said.

So I pointed to the photographs and replied “Because of all of your photographs with you and airplanes”

He chuckled and proclaimed“Ah, I am the Smith & Wesson distributor for all of the Middle East. Those planes are fighter jets.”

I gave the photographs a second look, and yes, indeed, those planes were small and streamlined. After recognizing even more of his buddies in the images I realized he sold to all sides of the various conflicts. ‘And he was proud of that?’ The heat in my body evaporated. Suddenly, I could see the mean lines on his face. His charms had disappeared and I thought I smelled a foul odour. I could not get out of that office fast enough. Hopes of a charismatic future husband dashed, I told Joseph that I was not performing for the Merchant of Death.