It was now December 1990. My father had made the unilateral decision to go to Pakistan to see my mother's family. Since her death in 1989, he had infrequent conversations with them by phone. I think the guilt was eating him up and he felt indebted to take his children and go back to see his inlaws. As the sole surviving parent, that was the least he could do. However, I did not see his true agenda. But that is another story yet to tell!
On our next visit to my husband's home, his mother was getting antsy. Her son had told her on our second visit that he was sure I was the one. She had to seal the deal, so to speak. It was always the same thing. We would arrive. We would sit in the living room with our parents. They would kick us out to the family room so they could 'talk'. Each time we left, I tried to keep one ear directed towards the living room. I asked my father at one point why we, myself and my husband to be, could not sit in the room with them to hear what they were saying.
"This talk is not for you. It is something we grown ups have to figure out. You can sit with him and learn more about each other. I am sure you have lots in common!"
This talk was not for me? I beg your pardon? It had EVERYTHING to do with me. Here they were, planning out my future and I could not even be privy to the conversation?
I sat with my siblings and his brother, embarressed to ask any question of a personal nature in front of everyone. I could sense he felt the same. Prior to going to their house, I gave a list of questions to my brother to ask him on my behalf. My brother laughed. "You are on your own, Sis. Plus, I like to see you squirm!"
Funny thing was I had no problem talking to the guys from school or work. But trying to get to know someone, under these unfamiliar circumstances, was wreaking havoc on my confidence.
At one point, my brother and sister went out of the room with his brother, leaving us alone. I did not know where to look. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see he was staring at me intently. When I turned to speak, he quickly turned his head in the opposite direction or pretended to be busy with the fireplace or opening and closing the blinds. I sighed with relief when everyone came back. I knew their departure had been planned amongst them all because my siblings exchanged looks with me to gage if I had spoken to him in their absence. I rolled my eyes. This was a disaster! If we could not even speak in a group setting or in isolation, I could only imagine our wedding night!
Our wedding night! That was another animated topic of conversation when I went to school and talked to my one of my closest girlfriends.
"So you mean to tell me, that you are chaperoned everytime you see him? What about if he wants to kiss you?" I almost fell off my seat in the lecture room. I shook my head and tried to collect my thoughts.
"Girlfriend. First of all, we don't date. We are not allowed to date. Second of all, I am not supposed to be alone with him. Thirdly, we cannot touch each other before we marry!" As I finished, two guys in front of us turned around in their seats, with horror in their eyes. I looked at the ceiling, pretending not to see them. The professor droned on while the rest of the class were busy entertaining themselves.
"I cannot believe what you just said!" she exclaimed. She covered her mouth with her hand and I could see her eyes widen. "You mean when you marry and you are alone with him on your wedding night..." I stopped her before she could continue, kicking her violently under the chair. One guy had turned around completely, smiling sheepishly at me. Great, I had the attention of not one, but three people sitting next to me.
"Can we talk about this outside?" I whispered heavily under my breath. It was hard enough convincing my non-Muslim friends about the courtship process--or lack thereof. But as we walked to the parking lot after class, her unabashed questions made me think twice. What the hell was I doing?!
"Have you consented to marry him yet?" she asked.
"No, but I am getting there," I replied.
"Based on what?"
"Based on ....intuition.."
"Are you kidding me? I have known you for 13 years and you are marrying some dude based on a gut feeling?!" She was now laughing. I hated to be laughed at.
"I know. I don't know much about him. I can barely speak two words to him. He is arrogant and pretentious. But I really believe he is going to be my husband," I said as-a-matter-of-factly. My friend grabbed me by the shoulders. My body was shaking because she was laughing so hard.
"I know you. You are very rational. I know there is a lot of culture in you but seriously, you are born and raised here. I know your Dad never let you date but I know how outgoing and social you are. You have a lot of male friends whom you have had good friendships with and you know they wanted more. Wouldn't you rather get to know someone before you marry him?" She winked at me and I knew what she was intimating.
Her line of questioning was warranted. She knew my restrictions and was completely aware of the NO DATING rule. She laughed when my father refrained me from attending mixed parties although many times, I had beat the 'system'. Based on previous indiscretions, she truly believed that at some point, I would break out of my cultural restrictions and religious boundaries. But the last year had also proven to her that I changed--as a result of my mother's death. I was initiated onto another path. My past rebellions took me away from what was truly in my soul. It did not feel like conformity to me. It was just a predestined force that I know would take time to adjust to.
"Can you marry someone you don't really know and not be physically intimate with?"
There. She had asked the million dollar question. Out in the open. In the parking lot. Without hesitation. She had every right, being my closest friend, who I had shared every experience with, including my debacle with my ex-fiancee. She stared at me for a long time. I kicked a stone on the ground while she waited.
I could not explain how I felt. I would leave his house after each visit. Hardly any conversation exchanged. No insight into his likes/dislikes, his favorite colour, musical tastes, information about his past...nothing. I would walk away and go home that night, lying awake, wondering about him and whether or not we were compatible. It drove me nuts! But this time, I stopped reasoning with my head. I only relied on my heart.
As I opened the door to my car, my friend scrambled in on the passenger side.
"You are not leaving until you answer me! If you cannot look me in the eye and tell me how you feel, then this is not meant for you. I only want what is best and for you to be happy," she implored. I put my key in the ignition.
"Get out of my car!" I laughed as I tried to push her out the door. She was always there for me, drying my eyes at the funeral when my mom was laid to rest. She was my rock, my sounding board. And her advice meant so much to me. But I was scared what she would say now.
"See?? You cannot answer me. So its done! Tell your father to go marry him if he likes him so much!" She pushed me back, laughing as well. I turned to her and became serious.
"Yes," I replied. I was looking at her, square in the eye.
"Yes what?" she asked.
"Yes, I can marry him without knowing anything about him."
She was quiet as first, looking out the windsheild, thinking to herself. But then she smiled slyly and reached over to hug me. I was surprised by her gesture. She did not speak another word and left me alone in the car. I sat awhile as the engine ran and thought about my declaration.
Then, breathing deeply, I put my foot on the gas--travelling on a route home that I had never taken before.
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