by Dyanne Davis
“Praise Allah,” Hamid said softly before closing the cover on his phone.
He grinned at Heaven. She would take the country by storm. With her strange hair and penchant for fighting, he wondered how their stay in Pakistan would be received, and if before the three months were over they’d all wish she had remained here at home in America. And America was now home to him. Regardless of feeling like a stranger in the apartment, America was where his heart was. It was where Heaven was.
* * *
After twenty-three hours of riding on the plane, and a seven-hour layover in England, Heaven felt stiff. She also realized how much of a sacrifice Hamid had made in order to be with her. The plane wasn’t in the least comfortable for her, and she couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable a tall man like Hamid must be. She leaned forward trying to stretch, but wasn’t able to. Then she felt strong fingers kneading her tired muscles and she closed her eyes. “Umm,” she moaned softly, “thank you.” She heard her husband chuckle beside her.
After a few minutes, she sat back and asked him to turn from her so she could massage his neck. Just touching him relieved some of her strain. Heaven knew part of the tenseness was because she was about to meet the family she’d married into. She couldn’t help wondering what would happen when she landed on foreign soil. Would she be accepted? Would they see her as an infidel? Would she still be married to Hamid after she left Pakistan? She closed her eyes and sat back, holding on tightly to Hamid’s hand. She felt him squeeze her fingers in reassurance.
“There’s only an hour left,” Hamid whispered into her ear. “It won’t be long.”
“I think I want to use the bathroom before we land,” Heaven whispered back. “Would you hand me my bag from the overhead bin. I want to brush my teeth,” she said in answer to the questioning look on his face.
Without a lot of trouble, Heaven managed to do what she wanted in the small space. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and bit her lips. Then she opened the door and stepped outside.
* * *
Hamid glanced up, saw a woman walking toward him and almost looked away. But there was something about the woman that begged a second look, something familiar. He looked at the clothes she had on. They were also familiar. He’d bought the same outfit for Heaven over a year ago.
Suddenly the woman was only a couple of seats from him and he was looking into her face with his mouth open. It couldn’t be. But it was. Heaven was wearing the gift he’d bought for her.
“Heaven.” He smiled, saw that she was looking nervous, and stood to allow her to pass. When she sat he couldn’t take his eyes from her. “You’re beautiful, so beautiful. Why did you change?”
“I thought it would be nice, and I love the sari.”
He squeezed her hand, wishing they were in America where he would have kissed her with all he passion that was in him. Now it would have to wait until they were alone.
“Hamid, what if they don’t like me?”
“They will love you,” he answered.
“What if they don’t?”
“Heaven, I don’t understand what you’re asking.”
She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Us, Hamid. I’m asking what will happen to us if your family disapproves.”
“You’re my wife,” he said, looking at her, wondering where this was coming from. “If they love you, you will be my wife. If they don’t, you will still be my wife.”
He caught the look in her brown eyes and understood at last. “No one will make me stop loving you, Heaven, not my family, and not a vow. I give you my solemn promise.”
Hamid watched as the tiny quiver claimed the corner of her lips but didn’t quite make it to her eyes. “Heaven, I will love you forever, trust me.”
There was lingering doubt in her eyes, doubt that he wanted to erase. He ignored the plane filled with Muslims, leaned over, and kissed his wife. She smiled then, and he kissed her lips softly for a few more seconds. “You are the pathway to my soul. I will love you forever.”
He heard her relived sigh as she finally leaned into the small cushion of the airplane seat. He wondered if her fears had kept her from returning with him before. No matter, she was here beside him now, and he’d meant his words to her. He didn’t care how his family felt about Heaven, he would love her forever. But for assurance, he whispered a little prayer. “Please, Allah, let them love her.”
* * *
As they filed off the plane, Heaven could swear she could hear Hamid’s heartbeat. Then again it might have been her own. Everything about the airport in Pakistan was different, the smells, the sounds, the sights. “Okay, Dorothy, ‘we’re not in Kansas anymore,’” she said under her breath.
“What did you say?” Hamid asked, stopping to look at her.
“Nothing, just something silly.”
Still Hamid stared at his wife, his eyes narrowing. “You’re afraid.” He tilted his head slightly. He was confused and a little hurt that Heaven would be afraid. “Don’t you trust me to protect you?” he asked.
His look was scorching her. As she stared into his gaze, the fear began to drain away. She would wait and see, not base her opinion of the country on things she’d heard. Besides, she was with her husband. He would not let anything happen to her.
“I trust you to protect me, Hamid,” Heaven said softly, smiling at him. When he returned the smile she knew they would be fine.
They made their way through the crowded lines and when they stepped out into the bright sun, Heaven took a deep breath. The air smelled clean. And then she took in a mouthful of heat and coughed. The heat was dry, and her eyes teared for a moment, adjusting to the difference, and then she blinked and blinked again.
A group of at least thirty people was swarming toward them. It was obvious who they were. She’d thought they’d have a few minutes before meeting Hamid’s family. There was no doubt they were his family. They were running toward them, some crying, some laughing. To her surprise, Hamid’s hand found hers and gave her fingers a squeeze, and he smiled down at her. Sassa had warned her that in Pakistan public displays of affection between a man and woman, even husband and wife, were avoided.
“My family, your new family.” Hamid smiled at her and slid his arms around her waist, guiding her toward the group. Again, he was doing what she’d not been expecting, touching her. It wasn’t that Heaven had plans on making out in public, but at the moment Hamid’s touch gave her confidence she had done the right thing in coming. “I should have warned you to never trust Sassa with a secret,” Hamid whispered.
“Sister, I’m Fatima,” the woman hugged Heaven tightly. This was her new sister-in-law she’d been writing letters to. As soon as Fatima let go of her, one woman after another, came up to Heaven, calling her Sister, kissing her on the cheeks, hugging her so tightly that she could barely breathe the dry, almost dusty air.
Then an older woman who was a bit plump came to the front of the line, and the women stepped to either side, as though parting a veil, and allowed her to come forward. For a long moment, she stared at Hamid, then turned her attention to Heaven.
“Ammi,” Hamid said, “this is your new daughter. This is my wife. This is Heaven.”
Heaven trembled slightly, moving her body toward Hamid, until she saw that the woman had come to a decision. She nodded her head and her lips turned up in a smile. Heaven waited. The woman nodded her head some more and Heaven grinned and bowed her head slightly, not knowing why she’d done it. When she looked back up, the older woman was smiling broadly. Then she reached for Heaven and hugged her, then hugged Hamid. She spoke in Urdu, and her words were spoken so fast that Heaven knew without understanding the language that Hamid had been reprimanded for Heaven’s not having visited before.
Then, apparently, the scope of the conversation changed. The group of women huddled nearby beamed and laughed as they looked toward her. Hamid was shaking his head and saying something to them that appeared to be argumentative as he looked at Heaven helplessly.
Heaven watched as her new mother-in-law hit Hamid several times on the shoulder. Then she put her arm around Heaven and led her away. She glanced back at Hamid and, to her surprise, his mother hit her several times, the way she’d done Hamid, and pointed toward the front.
Heaven got the picture. The older woman didn’t want her looking at Hamid. Okay, Heaven thought, what’s going on? What happened to all the protecting her husband was going to do? She smiled. She didn’t really need protecting, and she knew that.
“Sister, you’re getting married,” one of the women finally said in English and Heaven’s mouth flew open.
“We’re already married.”
“Not to Ammi you’re not. She’s arranged everything. You will be married in two days.”
“Wait a second. How could she arrange everything? My coming was a surprise. Even Hamid didn’t know.”
“Sassa called,” the woman explained. Heaven had not retained the names. “I’m sorry,” she said, “tell me your name again.”
“Aisiha.”
“Aisiha, Fatima,” Heaven said turning to include the woman she had at least a writing relationship with. “Hamid and I have been married for a year. Our anniversary is two days from now.”
“That’s perfect. You will become man and wife here with a traditional, well, not quite traditional, wedding. But you will marry, and we’ll have a feast, and you’ll receive a lot of gifts.”
Fatima jingled her bracelets in Heaven’s face. “Hamid is the favorite son, and everyone will come to the wedding, you’ll see.
“What about Hamid? Where is he going?”
“He’ll come to the house, but tonight and tomorrow you will not sleep with him, not until after the wedding.”
This was not the deal. Heaven had not followed her husband halfway around the world to be told she could not be with him. That was defeating her reasons for being there.
“I have to talk to Hamid about all of this first to see if he approves.” She was given a little push into a van and the rest of the women filed into the other waiting vehicles. She managed to catch a peep of Hamid before he climbed in a van. The butterflies were back in her stomach.
“I’m not Muslim.” Heaven looked at Fatima. “Didn’t Hamid tell you that? I’m Christian.”
Fatima looked embarrassed. “He told us.”
“So why has your mother arranged a wedding? I’m not changing my religion.”
“Allah will take care of that. We were not there to see Hamid get married, Sister. Would you deny us that?”
“Fatima, let me repeat, we’re already married.” Fatima smiled and spoke to the rest of the women. They nodded a few times, laughed, and talked among themselves. It was then Heaven knew she was going to have a wedding.
“I know it’s against your religion for a Muslim to marry a Christian,” Heaven offered.
“Didn’t Hamid tell you? Islam says that Muslim men can marry women of the book.”
“Pardon, what book?”
“Your book. Your Bible. It was okay for Hamid to marry you, a non-Muslim woman, a Christian, a woman of the book.” Fatima smiled.
“Then why was your family so upset that he had?”
“We wanted to celebrate with him; he has the position in our family as favored son. That’s an important role, and then he would not bring his bride to meet his new family.”
Ahh, Heaven thought, so Hamid had been more than likely taking flak about her unwillingness to come to Pakistan.
“Hamid wanted me to come.” She waited to make sure Fatima knew what she was saying. Fatima looked at her for a moment, said a few words to her mother, and then looked inquiringly at Heaven.
“You did not wish to come?”
A knot formed in Heaven’s belly. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to come. I had just started a new business, and I needed to be there to make sure everything was okay. It takes a lot of time. It was important to me. I used all of my money for the business.”
“Wasn’t it important to be with your husband?”
“That’s why I’m here now.” Heaven took a deep breath. “I love Hamid. We tried to have a marriage from two countries, but it wasn’t working. I miss him too much.” Heaven saw the old woman smile and she looked at Fatima.
“Oh, we all speak English,” Fatima explained and shrugged her shoulders.
Heaven laughed. Her new mother-in-law had been testing her. When the woman turned from the front seat to pat her cheeks Heaven knew she’d passed. She didn’t blame Hamid’s mother for questioning her love for her son.
“So now, Heaven, do you agree? Are we having a wedding?”
Heaven looked at each woman in turn, wondering if they were still testing her. “I have to ask my husband,” she said. The women smiled and she knew her answer had been the correct one.
Nah, Hamid will agree.
* * *
Damn Sassa and his big mouth. Hamid had promised Heaven that his family would love her. That part was covered because they did. He was grateful to Sassa for having them welcome Heaven at the airport. But he wondered how his wife would feel having the women attack her, telling her they weren’t married, that she couldn’t sleep with him tonight.
Hamid groaned. He’d dreamt so long of bringing his wife to Pakistan and making love to her under the stars.
“Hamid, you’re so quiet.”
Hamid looked at his father, who’d waited in the van, not getting out to meet Heaven. He’d wanted to wait until they were home and had chosen instead to observe Heaven’s interaction with the women.
“I didn’t expect all of this,” Hamid said.
His father laughed, and said, “Then you shouldn’t have told Sassa.”
“I didn’t, Heaven did. Truthfully, I guess we both did, but Heaven told him days before she told me. She told him she wanted to surprise me.” Hamid smiled. “She did. She didn’t tell me until it was time for me to leave for the airport.”
“It’s a good thing Heaven told Sassa. Don’t worry, the women will take care of Heaven, and surely one night of not sleeping with your wife will not kill you.”
“No, but Heaven just might.” Hamid smiled. “This is all nice, but if Heaven doesn’t want it we’re not going to do it. Besides, it’s not customary for a married couple to sleep apart. We’ve been married for a year now. No one would force a couple to do this.”
“No one is forcing you, Hamid. But I think since you did not have the decency to bring your bride here to meet us or to ask our permission in the first place, you deserve to sleep alone for a night.”
“So this is penance.”
“More like a joke that your ammi wants to play on you. Now are you getting married here?”
“If Heaven agrees.”
“Are you saying that she is the one who controls your home?”
“Abba, for the last year I haven’t been able to establish exactly where home is. But I leave my heart with Heaven every time that I come here. So I would have to say where Heaven is is home and…” he shrugged. “Make of it what you will, but she controls my heart.” Hamid waited. “Abba, Heaven is here in Pakistan for a visit, for three months. After that she will return to America. Abba, my heart and my home is with Heaven.”
Hamid held his father’s gaze, not saying more. He’d planted the seed, and he and his father both knew it. Hamid was going to dishonor his father and break his vow.
“She means that much to you?”
“More. I didn’t choose her, Abba, fate did. I had no choice in the matter, but I do love her.”
His father laughed. “Hamid, don’t lie to me. Your cousin has told us all about your meeting Heaven in the hospital. Maybe that was fate,” he grinned, “but you gave fate a great shove, letting the air out of her tire.” He laughed. “And pretending you needed her to learn American culture.”
“I learned a lot from my wife,” Hamid insisted.
“I’m sure you did.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I,” his father
laughed. “Hamid, don’t tell me that there was something about America that you didn’t already know. You probably know more about America than the ones that live there.” He grinned. “Did she think you were really that ignorant?”
Hamid smiled a little, remembering his first encounters with Heaven. “In the beginning, but I gave her reason to believe that. My car stalled, I needed assistance, and she helped. She started my car.”
“And your heart too.”
“Yes,” Hamid agreed. “She did. But I thought I would never see her again. I dreamt of her, could think of nothing but her and when I saw her truck, I truly believed fate had intervened, that it was the will of Allah.”
“And Allah told you to flatten her tire?” his father asked for the second time.
“Maybe not exactly, but just the fact that I knew how to do it, that I could assist her in fixing it, seemed to be Allah’s will.”
“Did Allah tell you to play the imbecile for this woman, pretend that you have not studied America since you were a boy?”
“Abba, that was genuine.”
“Ha.”
“It was.”
This time the others in the van joined in laughing, even Hamid laughed.
“What can I say?” Hamid argued. “My heart was struck by an arrow and I fell in love with her. When I saw her again I wasn’t going to let her get away. I couldn’t.”
“Are you happy, Hamid?”
“No, Abba,” Hamid sighed. They all knew what his father was asking. “I hate leaving my wife in America. It breaks her heart, and it breaks mine.”
Chapter Thirteen
After the laughter died down in the van Hamid stared at his father, holding his gaze, grateful to be so loved, to be the favorite son. He swallowed around the sudden lump. Hamid did not want to hurt his father. But in order not to do it he would have to continue hurting his wife. The price he’d agreed to pay had become much too high. Sassa was right, it was Hamid’s choice, a choice where no one would be truly happy, but one that must be made just the same.