Hina Ahmed
With a towel wrapped around her wet hair, Mariam stood in her closet, trying to figure out what shalwar kameez to wear to the family dinner. She rummaged through, passing all the bright-coloured ones and landed on a black one. She pulled it out and dropped it on her bed. As she stood at her dresser she could hear the clattering of her mother’s dishes and the infectious laughter downstairs. She picked up the peppermint tincture, dabbed a few drops on her finger and massaged it onto the temples of her forehead. Unravelling the towel, she hung her head low and combed her hair. She threw on the clothes like she was rushing to work and looked at herself in the mirror. She generously squirted her Bath and Body lotion into her hand and rubbed it into the hollowness of her face. She picked up the rose-coloured Mac lipstick her sister Alaina had given her, looked at her reflection, and put it back down. She dragged herself downstairs to find her mother scurrying between the kitchen and dining room. The smell of onion, garlic, and cardamom was pungent and made Mariam sick to her stomach. Her father paced in the family room. On the television screen, Imran Khan spoke to the public with rigour and resistance. Ayesha looked at Mariam’s outfit and scowled.
“Ummi, do you need help?”
“You can help by serving the guests and cleaning up afterwards.”
“Ok…where is Alaina?”
“She is out with Khaled, getting the cake.”
_____
One month prior to this afternoon, Ayesha hollered to Mariam from the foyer. “Mariam! Alaina and Khaled are here!”
“Ok, just a minute!”
Mariam threw on a sweater over her tank top and brushed her hair.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Ok you can do this, do it for Alaina.
“Asalaamalaikum! So nice to meet you!” Mariam extended her hand.
“Walaikumasalaam,” Khaled pressed his hand on his chest and bowed his head.
Khaled wore a pair of khaki slacks and a button-up sky-blue polo shirt. He was clean-shaven, his hair freshly cut and parted to the side. He wore Warby Parker glasses that sat on the bumpy bridge of his long nose. His stature was tall and slender. Alaina sat beside him, her otherwise frizzy hair was straight. She wore a pink summer dress that fell down to her ankles. She had one hand on top of the other in her lap.
Mariam took a seat across from them.
“So…what do you do?”
“I am a data-scientist.”
“Oh that’s cool.”
He nodded.
“Have you and Alaina done anything fun here, in town?”
“Yeah. We went to the masjid and I got to meet the Imam. Such a nice guy.”
Mariam thought back to the time when he refused to let a Muslim man into the mosque because he hadn’t paid his dues.
“Aw. I see.”
He nodded.
“What about any restaurants? Did you go to any good restaurants in town?”
“Yeah, we went to that Indian one, but kind of regret it, not sure their meat was halal…” he glanced at Alaina.
“Oh, I see.”
He nodded.
“Well, it was nice to meet you. Unfortunately, I have to get going. Hope you have a great trip here!”
Mariam got into her car, sped down the road and ferociously tore the plastic wrapper off the mint chocolate bar that waited for her on the passenger seat and devoured it.
Khaled’s family arrived at the door. His mother, Farah, stood in the front, a chaddor wrapped around her head, pink crocs on her feet. “Asalaamalaikum, these are for you,” she handed Ayesha a box of maathai. “Jizakallah khair. Please come in.” Her husband, with a limp on his left leg, lingered behind. “Asalaamalaikum,” Mariam nodded to the uncle and leaned in to hug Aunty Farah, who looked at her from head to toe. “Nice to meet you baita,” she said with sternness.
“Ok Mariam, go and serve them this.” Ayesha handed her the tray of chai and biscuits.
Mariam looked at her father nuzzled into the couch, his fingers interlocking each other in his lap, the muscles of his face relaxed. He gazed out the window. The boy’s father sat next to him and did the same. Farah sat on the opposite side of them, dunked her cookies into the chai and watched the chunks fall in. “These are delicious!” She said, licking her lips.
Ayesha took a seat beside the mother and leaned toward her. “Please, no formalities, have more,” she said, pushing the plate of cookies toward her. Laughter and chit-chat filled the room. Mariam lingered in the kitchen, moving the kabobs from the frying pan to the tray.
“Well, we must figure out how to proceed,” the boy’s mother said. Mariam walked behind the kitchen counter and went upstairs.
___
Mariam fell to her bed, besieged by a throbbing headache. Her aunt, Aamina, walked up to the door and knocked.
“Mariam, baita, are you in there?”
She opened the door.
Mariam fluttered her eyes and rolled onto her back. Her aunt took a seat beside her.
“Mariam are you ok?”
She slowly sat up and rubbed her eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
“You know baita, you will be next, I just know it. And you know what? He will be the best one,” she said, giving her a hug.
Mariam fought back the tears and nodded.
Ayesha walked into the room.
“What’s going on here?”
They both looked up.
“Come on! We are about to cut the cake, come downstairs.”
“Come on baita.” Aamina said, getting up from the bed.
“Ok, just give me a minute.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Mariam sat up in bed. She looked at herself in the mirror; her limp hair, sunken face, and bony shoulders. Her head was still throbbing. The laughter from downstairs seeped into her bedroom. She fell back to the bed.
____
The chandelier lights emanated the glow on Alaina’s face.
“Ok, everyone listen. Before the Maghrib prayer, my son, Khaled, would like to ask a very important question,” Farah announced.
Khaled faced Omar and asked, “Uncle, I would like to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
Omar sat in the chair beside him, glanced up at him and, with a subtle smile on his face, he nodded.
Farah, Ayesha, Ayesha’s mother and sister all erupted in, “Mubarak ho, Mubarak ho!” Khadija cheered, “Baat paaki hogai!”
“No, no not yet!” Farah held up her hands with her palms facing them. She looked at Khaled.
Khaled got down on one knee and held the black box. “Alaina, will you do me the greatest honor of my life?” Alaina held her breath.
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes, yes, I will.”
The room erupted in applause.
Alaina watched her father embrace the guests in the room and her mother kiss everyone from shoulder to shoulder. She scanned the rest of the room, searching.
___
Mariam sat on her bed with piles of blankets on top of her and her phone in her hand. She took her finger and tapped the red ‘x’ over and over again on the dating app, until she landed on the picture of a handsome man named Mushtaq. She tapped the red heart.
“So nice to meet you.” His message read.
“Like wise!”
“So interesting you are an art teacher. I love artists.”
“Great!”
“We should talk.”
“Yes!”
____
The first conversation they had lasted two hours. He was a fine artist and worked in the post office for his day job. His family was from Senegal. He was the oldest of five. He came from a Muslim family. He attended Juma prayer regularly. He didn’t drink; he didn’t smoke, he had never been married and had no children. Mariam thought those would be the most important characteristics to earn her parent’s approval.
___
“I think we should meet, maybe spend a weekend together.” He said after the first week of talking.
“Ok, sure.”
“I can get us an Air B and B. There would be nothing better than waking up next to you on Christmas morning.”
Mariam imagined the large spread of food at her aunt’s house, their small Christmas tree, the exchange of presents and the way her mother would wave her finger at everyone saying, “no Merry Christmas, we are Muslim!” But the possibility of a new future, with a family of her own, pulled her in the opposite direction.
“Ok. I will have to figure out what to tell my family…but sounds great to me!”
___
Mariam drove up to the little cottage in the woods. It was a one-story home, with a long driveway. Piles of snow covered the yard and a cloudy sky hung overhead. A blue Subaru Forester was parked out front. A tall, dark man opened the door, a broad smile on his face. “Come in, come in,” he gestured with his arm. Mariam walked up to him and hugged him. His body was hard like a cement wall.
“Here, let me help you unload the car.” Mushtaq walked out of the house and Mariam walked inside.
The living room was dark. Thick, navy blue curtains draped over the windows. A black leather couch faced the hanging television screen. Mariam jumped back when she saw the image of the giant deer head sticking out of the wall. She walked into the kitchen, large and devoid of clutter, with a tall marble table and two stools on the right. She walked down the narrow hall into the bedroom. A king-sized bed covered in gold satin sheets occupied the centre of the room. The walls were hunter-green. It was a windowless room.
Mushtaq met her in the bedroom, where they fell to the bed. He held her tight, pressing his thin lips against hers. Mariam gripped his back as he moved in and out of her. She breathed heavily, hoping to make the right sounds.
____
For dinner, Mushtaq prepared the salmon and Mariam chopped up a salad. Mushtaq spoke about his recent trip to Senegal and his company’s projects to help poor women around the world.
“Do you really think a non-profit can fix systemic issues?” Mariam crunched loudly on the carrots.
“Yes, I believe it can. And I will tell you all the reasons why.”
Mariam poked and prodded at the food, glancing up at him from time to time.
“Hellooo…Earth to Mariam….” Mushtaq waved his hand in front of her.
Mariam was shuffling food around on her plate. All she heard were empty sounds.
“Huh?”
“I asked you a question…”
“Oh sorry…can you repeat that?”
___
The following morning, Mushtaq waited for her at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee in his hand.
“Although you don’t always pay attention…I like you…so much.” He swooned.
“I would like to meet your parents.”
“You like me THAT much?”
“Yeah…yeah I do.”
“What do you like?”
“You are beautiful and smart and…different.”
“Everyone is different.”
“No, you are different, different.”
“You don’t think it’s too soon?”
“No. As cliche as it is, when you know, you know.”
“I see.” Mariam got up from the seat, walked to the sink, and started doing the dishes.
Mariam thought back to what her aunt had said that afternoon, sitting on her bed. Your turn will be next, I know it.
Mariam turned around to look at him. “Well, if you want to meet my family, your best bet is probably to meet my extended family first.”
___
Mariam and Mushtaq drove up the steep road leading to her aunt’s house.
“Are you sure it’s ok to surprise them?” Mushtaq asked.
“Yeah, they are people who appreciate spontaneity.”
Mushtaq accelerated up the hill.
“No, wait. Stop. Turn left, here.” Mariam pointed.
“Into Target?”
“Yes.”
“Ok… what’s wrong.”
“Ugh. I don’t know, I don’t know if this is the right thing.”
Mushtaq parked the car.
“What? Why not? What are you so afraid of?”
‘Yours will be the best one,’ her aunt’s words rang in her head.
Mariam looked at Mushtaq and his clean-shaven face, defined jaw-line, and the broadness of his shoulders in his grey suit jacket.
“Ok, you are right. Nothing to be afraid of. Let’s go.”
With the fruit tart in hand, they walked up the stone steps to the green front door. Her cousin, Marwa, opened the door.
“Ohh…! They’re here,” she said, looking at her mother behind her.
Aamina grabbed a shawl and draped it around her bra-less chest.
“Please, please come in,” she said, extending her arm.
“So nice to meet you,” she leaned in to hug him.
“Thank you Auntie.”
___
Mariam’s grandmother Khadija sat on the tall, red couch, a cup of tea in her hand.
“Come, come, sit.”
Mushtaq took a seat beside her. Mariam sat across from them.
“So tell me about yourself,” Khadijah leaned forward in her seat.
Mariam walked into the kitchen.
“So…what do you think?” She whispered to her khala Aamina.
“He is handsome, very handsome.” She cracked an egg in the frying pan.
“Here, let me call your mother. She should be here too.”
“Ayesha, you need to come. Mariam’s suitor seems very reasonable. He is tall, handsome, and seems to have a job…Ummi is asking him more questions about himself. Why don’t you and Omar come by?”
“Suitor? What suitor? She never mentioned a suitor.”
“Well, however he got here doesn’t matter! He is here. You need to come.”
“We can’t at this very moment. Maybe this evening…we will come for chai.”
___
“Come, come eat!” Aamina said, gesturing toward the dining room. Mushtaq walked to the table.
“You too Mariam.” Khadijah prompted.
Mariam sat across from Mushtaq at the table and watched him take large spoonfuls of food into his mouth.
“This is delicious! Just delicious!”
“Make a spoonful and feed it to our Mariam,” Khadijah demanded.
“Open wide,” he placed the spoon at her lips.
Mariam opened her mouth and swallowed.
Khadija applauded.
“Dhaiko, all she needs is love.”
___
Mushtaq, dressed in a black shalwar kameez with gold embroidery, sat on the couch sharing a long story of one of his international travels. Mariam’s cousins sat around him, staring. The garage door opened. Ayesha stumbled inside. She wore jeans, a winter coat and a hijab over her head. Omar, hunched over, trailed behind. Mushtaq stood up. “Asalaamalaikum,” he said with a strong voice, standing taller than Omar. He extended his hand and made a firm handshake.
Ayesha looked at him.
“Salaam, Auntie ji,” he said, placing his hand on his chest and bowing.
Ayesha nodded.
Mushtaq sat alone on one end of the room and Omar and Ayesha sat across from him. Mariam took a seat beside them.
“So what kind of work do you do?” Omar asked.
“I’m an artist, but I take on different jobs, you know to pay the bills.”
“What kind of jobs…”
“Right now I am working in a post office. I have been a line cook, a security guard, a nurse’s aide…the list could go on and on.”
“How do you expect to support your family on these ‘odd jobs’?”
“Well, humans don’t actually need much. I like to have enough for my basic necessities and spend the rest of my time traveling.”
Aamina walked down the stairs with a cup of coffee in her hand. “Here, please, have some,” she said, handing it to him.
“Gosh, I wish I had the luxury to travel…seems to be something that the free-spirited people of the world do…” Ayesha said.
“Well, that I am. I just pack the trunk and go.”
Omar took his index and middle finger, pressed them at his cheekbone and raised his eyebrows.
“So, how long have you been talking to Mariam?” Uncle Zahid asked.
“About two months now.”
“That is a bit fast… don’t you think?”
“Well, when you know, you know.”
“What about you Mariam, what do you like about him?” Uncle Zahid asked.
“He is kind and adventurous.”
“Certainly, there is much more criteria for a marriage,” Uncle Zahid said.
“You know, our Mariam is very naive.” Omar said. Mariam sunk deeper into the couch. “We don’t want a random man to come in and take advantage of her.” Omar looked at him from above his glasses.
“Do you go to the mosque? How often?” Ayesha asked.
“I try and go every Friday for the Juma prayer. Islam is a beautiful religion, the extremists just give it a bad reputation. All they know how to do is fear monger. There is more to Islam than going to heaven or hell.” Mariam readjusted herself in the seat.
Ayesha glared at him. “Accountability is a big part of Islam. Humans can’t just do what they want. We will be answerable on Day of Judgement.”
“Yes, we will, but God is most merciful, most forgiving.” Mushtaq began to recite the first verses of Surah Fatiha. From the other end of the room, Khadijah smiled and nodded. “Very good, very good,” she clapped her hands.
“Who taught you your tajweed? It is completely incorrect.” Ayesha said her chin in the air.
__
Ayesha and Omar arrived home. “I don’t know why Mariam can’t make the right decisions for herself,” She huffed, before going to do the laundry. Omar placed the keys down, stood at the kitchen counter and sifted through piles of mail.
____
Later that night, Omar knocked on Mariam’s bedroom door.
Mariam sat on her bed, her laptop in hand. “Come in.” She looked up at him and leaned back.
“I don’t know what you were thinking. You humiliated us!” Mariam put the laptop down. Tears streamed down her face.
“What made you think it was ok to bring home such a man? And of all places…to your aunt’s house? What, have you no mother? No father?” Omar yelled.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Mariam wept, choking on her tears.
With his finger pointing in the air, he said, “he is not the man for you!”
When Mariam began to sob, Omar saw the little girl she once was.
____
Omar sat down beside her.
“Ok, bas, bas,” he handed her a tissue.
“Everyone is partnered around me, I have a right to be too,” Mariam dabbed the tissue on her eye.
“I understand. I do.” Omar took her hand.
“But, have saber, when the time is right Allah will send him.”
Omar wrapped his arm around her and held her against him. “Just know that I love you. That no matter what, I love you.”
