Muneer knows neither paper belongs to the people any longer. Both are bankrolled by the royal family, like every paper in the kingdom. But Fareed has deeper connections than Imad does. He can ask permission to say the things no one else is allowed to say, to say them in such a way that they ruffle no feathers.

He has money to find his daughter, and Muneer does not.

Fareed stands, a cue for Muneer to leave, but Muneer remains seated and Fareed is forced to look down at him. What should seem like a position of submission beneath the older man’s gaze instead feels powerful to Muneer. He knows he has the higher moral ground.

ROUTINE

When the faithful are called to prayer, they must perform ritual ablution, and when a man is unmarried, his family must find him a bride. Muneer’s family does not let the loss of his daughter keep them from encouraging him to remarry.

Muneer’s brother Bandar favors a second cousin on their father’s side for him, a tall girl with green eyes inherited from a Turkish grandmother. Marrying her would strengthen ties with that side of the family, which, everyone seems to agree, have weakened since their father’s death.

Muneer’s sister Lateefah wants his permission to share with her girlhood friend’s younger sister a wallet photo taken of him soon after his high school graduation. The friend and her sister are from a good Jidda trade family, Lateefah says.

Muneer’s mother comes back from women’s gatherings and weddings speaking of some young woman, as luminous as the moon, who knows at least three Hadeeths for every situation: the importance of patience, forgiveness, cleanliness, privacy, moderation in food and drink, mothers, fathers, avoiding sin, charity, exercise, kindness to animals.

Lujayn has a new university classmate to recommend weekly, until she marries a second cousin, moves out of Mama’s apartment, gets pregnant, and puts her studies on hold, against the advice of Muneer and their other siblings.

He would like his mother and siblings to stop fussing, but they don’t listen.

The prospective brides are sixteen-year-olds, eighteen-year-olds, a few twenty-year-olds midway through university. Most Jidda women five or ten years younger than Muneer are married, and no one would recommend a widow or a divorcee.

“God protect you. You’ve suffered enough already,” his sisters say.

Muneer might consider marriage under other circumstances, but he can’t afford it yet, he tells them. He is saving his halalas for a round-trip ticket to America. After a trip, he saves again. The family keeps trying, though.