We sat together in the limo but this was not us alone. Six more people would accompany us to the hotel. My inlaws, my brother-in-law, and three teens of their close family friends. It was a family affair, my wedding night. And I wondered if I would ever be alone with him.
I stopped crying halfway through the ride to downtown. My new husband passed me a tissue and held my hand. The oldest of the three teens, herself only 17, smiled shyly and looked embaressed. It was quiet and only a few spoke in whispers until my mother-in-law saw the SkyDome and asked whether this was our hotel. Everyone, including me, broke out in laughter and this somewhat eased the tension in the limo.
When we arrived, their family friends, who had followed the limo downtown, escorted us into the hotel. Our wedding suite was their gift to us. I was followed by at least ten people and the throngs of people in the lobby stopped and stared. It was not everyday a Pakistani bride, dressed to the nines with jewellery and a sequined dress enters a hotel with her own procession.
I looked up at times to find old people smiling at me and checking out my attire. As we walked into the elevator, I saw our reflection in the glass doors. We looked so young--me only at the ripe old age of 20 and him at 26. Two kids being guided up the hotel and shown to their room as if we were at home with our parents. That is how I felt--passed on from one set of parents to another.
The room was beautiful--a separate bedroom, a living suite, balcony and solarium. I was 'placed' on the sofa and my mother-in-law stood in front of me.
"Remove your jewellery and put it all in the safe," she said. I nodded obediently as I learned quickly that I could not speak. And as my father-in-law sat down to make himself comfortable, their family friend pulled him up and commanded everyone to leave. They all hugged me and were ushered to the door by my husband. I sat alone on the sofa and waited, not knowing quite sure what to do next. I could feel the weight of my heavily embroidered veil and jewellery weighing down my neck and shoulders. I sat back and looked out through the window at the lake and the rest of the skyline. It was a beautiful summer night, with clear skies and the lights of boats on the water.
I wanted to be on one of those boats, moving away toward the vast, dark unknown of the lake.
For now, I settled for the unknown of that night as my husband rounded the corner towards me after seeing his family off. We were finally alone. The two of us. No family member sitting in the same room, breathing heavily into a phone or watching us from the corner of their eyes.
Alone.
For a second, I would have rather been on stage in front of millions of people than experience the fear of being alone with a stranger in a room.
Alone.
It was time to take that leap of faith...I guess...
No comments:
Post a Comment