As we approached his store, the lump in my throat was now a boulder. My father asked me to wait outside the men's clothing store so he could go and fetch him. I was cemented to the spot where I stood. My legs felt like lead and I was lightheaded. I watched intensely as he approached the store desk. There were two girls and one nodded and headed to the back. My fiancee was the manager and I imagined was working in the back on paperwork.
I fidgeted with my hair and laughed out loud. A couple walked passed me, wondering what I was laughing about. LIFE, that's what is so funny, I wanted to yell out to them. I remember their arms were linked and they were walking and smiling, looking into each other's eyes...so happy. Why couldn't I be normal like them? Why can't I just date and find a husband like everyone else? Why am I being persecuted for doing what I wanted? I looked back in the store to witness the shock on my fiancee's face when he saw my father. He looked at me, outside the store, my arms draped on the railing of the upper floor. I wanted to jump. I looked away and down. It was surreal. This was not happening.
They came out. He was cordial with my father and I and suggested we go to the food court for tea. It was 11am and the mall was not too busy for a Sunday morning. I heard my heart thumping in my brain. We found a seat and he went to fetch tea and muffins while we waited at the table. I could not look at my father. I clutched my purse and tried to concentrate on something else. My father did not speak to me either as we waited in silence. He returned with the food and sat next to my father. He was visibly nervous. He must have been wondering how we ended up here, without warning, without a call. But he did his best to impress my father.
I do not remember most of the conversation. I think I blacked out temporarily and tried not to commit anything to memory. Thinking that my father would drill him, on the contrary, he ended up being too nice to him. They talked, laughed at each others jokes and sipped their tea with gated silence. I do not remember eating or drinking. Nor did I speak. Everytime I tried to chime in, the dryness in my throat prevented me from adding to the conversation. But I do remember, at one point when my father's attention was turned in a different direction, I shot my fiancee an quick, apologetic look. He knew it was not my fault and that it was a premeditated move by my father. But I knew why. My fiancee did not.
We stayed only for half an hour. We got up and my father shook his hand and confirmed the date for our engagement. I smiled weakly and nodded to him as we parted ways. I tried to swallow the boulder, but I felt sick.
We drove home in utter silence. My father looked exhausted. He did not look upset or happy. It was a pensive look. I, on the other hand, wanted to throw up. I kept opening up the window for fresh air. The rain had become torrential and it was a game of opening and closing the window to prevent the rain from coming in. I bit my nails furiously and each time my father grabbed my hand away from my mouth.
Usually I would protest. I would confront the issue. I would rake him over the coals for what he did. I would lash out and let the violent emotions take control.
This time, I kept quiet.
Silence is not a sign of weakness.
I was not giving up.
But I did give in and waited...waited for Him to make the next move.
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