by Dyanne Davis
“I want to do it,” she announced, “if you don’t think it’s silly.”
“I don’t think it’s silly.”
“Okay, now that we have that all settled, tell me about the doll. I didn’t know you played with dolls.” She pulled back to look into her husband’s eyes, to show him she was teasing.
“This was to be a present for you. I took it to a beautician in Chicago and had her put the twists in. I had the outfit made here in Pakistan. I was going to give it to you, but kept it hidden in my luggage to keep you from finding it before I was ready to give it to you. Then I forgot it and brought it back. And then I realized I needed it much more than you did.”
“Hamid,” Heaven breathed slowly in and out. “I’m so glad I came. I’ve missed you so much.”
For an answer, he crushed her to him. After a few more minutes, he heard the patients outside the door and drew back. “I think we should leave now.”
“Tell me again. Why do we have to sleep alone tonight?”
Hamid laughed. “We don’t, there is no custom that dictates that. Any married couple would be given a room together. This is their way of getting even with us for having married in the first place without their blessing on our union.” He shrugged and smiled at her. “If you don’t want to follow through on that one, we won’t.”
“I don’t want to follow through on it.” Heaven grinned. “But I will. Just know that I’ll be thinking about you every minute that I’m asleep.”
* * *
“Are we having a wedding?” Fatima asked the moment they walked back into the door.
Heaven and Hamid looked at the preparations that were undoubtedly for a wedding and laughed together. “Yes, we’re having a wedding,” Heaven said.
“And tonight?” Fatima asked.
Hamid looked at his sister. “Tonight will be our official engagement.” He laughed. “Both Heaven and I are tired. I want to show her where to rest.”
Before he could do that, his mother came, grabbed Heaven’s hand, and pulled her to the kitchen where they uncovered a pot. Heaven stirred and tasted at his mother’s insistence.
Heaven’s face lifted and her gaze met his. For a moment, Hamid’s breathing stopped. This was the vision he’d had, Heaven in a sari in the kitchen, with his mother, sisters, cousins, and aunts, while the servants moved about. His chest felt tight, as though it would burst from the love he was feeling.
“Hamid, what’s wrong? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Nah, Abba, I had a vision and it’s come true.”
His father frowned. “What vision?”
“This.” He inclined his head toward the kitchen, “This, my wife dressed as she is now, here in Pakistan cooking with the women in the family. This was my vision before we ever married.”
His father looked at him. “Maybe fate did play a hand in your finding her.”
Hamid smiled and went back to watching Heaven until the tiredness in his body told him of the weariness she must be feeling. He walked toward her. “Heaven’s tired, Ammi. I’m going to show her to her room. She is sleeping in my room, isn’t she?”
“You didn’t eat. You have to eat. Look at all this food.”
“There will be even more food when we wake. Thank you, Ammi, for understanding.”
Hamid didn’t wait for an answer. He held out his hand to Heaven and she took it. First, he showed her the rest of the mansion, laughing when she was so tired that all she said was, ‘nice house.’ Nice house indeed.
His bedroom he saved for last. Hamid smiled, a bit embarrassed when she grinned at the pictures of them that covered the dresser. He shrugged. “You’ll sleep here tonight, alone,” he whispered in her ear. “At least part of my dreams will come true.” He showed her the bathroom. “I’ll have someone bring in your bags,” he said, hearing his father’s voice outside the door.
He kissed her quickly. “Sleep, and I’ll see you soon.”
“Will you be here, or will you have to go somewhere else to sleep?”
“Do you want me to remain in the house?”
“Yes,” Heaven said immediately. “Will it be okay? I mean the customs…”
“This is one custom we will ignore. You want me in the house, I’ll be here. Now, sleep.” He kissed her once more and walked out the room, looking back at her, wanting more than anything to crawl into the bed with her. But he would wait and play out this game to please his family. And maybe in the end it would ease the pain of what he would do, of making his father regret him being the favorite son.
“Hamid, it’s time for you to go and stay at your brother’s home,” his father called out to him. “You will not see Heaven until the Mehndi.”
“Sorry, Heaven,” Hamid said, “I have to leave you now.” He saw the look on her face. “Nah, I will not leave the house, only this room.”
“Hamid, you agreed to this wedding; it is custom.” His father said the moment he closed the door. “Heaven’s parents are not here so we will stand in their stead. It would not look right for you to be in the home with her before you marry her.”
“Abba, I married her already. This ceremony is for you and Ammi, not for Heaven or me. We don’t need it.”
“Hamid?”
“Nay, Abba, I promised my wife that I would be here should she need me. And I will not go back on that promise.”
His father looked at him. “You are very good at keeping your word. I might say even when you don’t want to. That’s an admirable trait.”
Hamid stared at his father, trying to decipher the meaning of his words.
“Sometimes, though, Hamid, we find ourselves breaking our vows, our promises.”
Now Hamid knew what his father meant. He understood what Hamid meant to do. “I’m not breaking this promise to my wife,” Hamid said, and made his way to the living room. “I will not go in to her, unless she calls me,” Hamid added, and laughed.
Chapter Fourteen
Heaven woke feeling almost as tired as when she lay down. She rolled over and landed on the pillow she knew her husband must have slept on. It was on the left side of the bed, the side Hamid liked. She knew his scent wouldn’t be in the freshly laundered sheets, but still she searched for it.
The smell of strong coffee was drifting toward her. She wondered if Hamid had been allowed to stay the night. It didn’t matter, she knew he would. She didn’t know why it was so important to her that he remain, just that it was.
She wondered what the morning protocol was, and wished she’d asked Hamid. She needed a cup of coffee to get her going. Could she throw on a robe and go into the kitchen? A knock sounded on the door, and she pulled the covers to her chin.
“Sister?” It was Fatima’s voice. “Are you awake, sister?”
“Yes,” Heaven answered.
“May I come in?”
“Yes,” Heaven answered.
Fatima came in with a tray. Smells of food pulled at Heaven and made her remember that it had been many hours since she’d had anything to eat.
“Fatima, thank you, but I was thinking about taking a quick shower and brushing my teeth.” She tried to peek out the open door. “Where is Hamid?”
“He’s outside. He refused to leave last night, but tonight he must. You will have to tell him.”
“Is it okay if I take a shower?” Heaven didn’t want to offend, and wondered if it would if she got out of bed to get her robe.
Fatima was smiling. “You’re still in the bed. What’s wrong?”
Heaven looked at her for a moment. “I don’t want to offend anyone. Is it proper for me to…I have on a gown. Is it okay?”
“There are no men in the house, only women. You may shower and I will wait here for you and have tea with you.”
Heaven had her answer. “Thanks, Fatima.” Heaven pushed away the urge to ask if they used bottled water to make the coffee and tea. She thought of her malaria pills, and decided when she came from her shower she would take a chance.
“An
ything else I can get for you?” Fatima asked. She smiled. “Hamid wants to know if you need anything. My father wants him to go, and he won’t leave until he checks on you.”
Heaven smiled. There were a lot of things she needed, and wanted but she couldn’t tell this to her new sister-in-law.
“Don’t worry, Heaven, we will take care of you. You’re family now. What do you want me to tell Hamid?”
“Tell him good morning, and tell him I saw the stars.” Heaven pointed to the ceiling and waited a second for Fatima to leave. When she saw she wasn’t, Heaven got out of bed and reached for her robe. She hadn’t known Fatima meant her words literally, that she would wait right there for Heaven to finish her shower.
“You can have breakfast when you’re done. We have a lot to do today,” Fatima said. “Today is your mehndi.”
This was the second time Heaven had heard the word. She started to ask what it meant, but didn’t. Instead, she hurried into the shower and finished as quickly as she could. When she was done, she felt a thousand times better. Her mouth now felt fresh, not full of cotton. For a moment, she worried whether the water had been safe for brushing her teeth. But it was too late; the deed was done.
Hamid was nowhere in sight when Heaven came out, but the bedroom was filled with women, some in jeans, some in saris. They laughed, pulling her into the main room of the house. Heaven was glad she’d taken her jeans and shirt into the bathroom with her. She wanted to ask for the coffee Fatima had brought in earlier and the food. The tray was now empty. Heaven grinned. Some of the women must have gotten hungry. She didn’t have time to ponder that as the women surrounded her and started taking measurements.
“Quickly, quickly.” Hamid’s mother was waving her hands at the woman taking Heaven’s measurements, apparently the dressmaker. Before Heaven could protest, the women had her arms spread wide and the dressmaker had the measuring tape wrapped around her waist. They showed Heaven bolt after bolt of material to pick from. Yellow, they told her, had to be the color of the dress she wore tonight.
Tomorrow for the actual wedding, she could wear red, white, or gold. The gold material was a champagne color, more what Heaven wanted, and she chose that. “There’re going to have two dresses ready by tonight?” she asked in astonishment.
“There are two dressmakers.” Fatima extended her hand. “Don’t worry, it will be ready. Now, would you like breakfast?”
“Can I have something hot to drink?” Heaven asked.
Before the words were out a cup was placed in front of her and she was instructed to sit and drink. Finding it was tea, Heaven was a little disappointed since she remembered smelling the coffee earlier.
“Is there any coffee left?” she asked.
“Yes, but tea is better for you,” Hamid’s mother said and placed dates, toast, and butter and jelly in front of Heaven.
“Here,” Fatima said, handing Heaven a note. “Hamid wanted me to give this to you.”
“The water is safe. Hamid.” Heaven smiled at her husband’s consideration.
She’d barely finished eating when the women begin fussing over her, shaping her nails and wanting to redo her twists. Heaven looked at all of their shiny long braids or jet-black curls and knew they wouldn’t know how to do her hair. Even Heaven didn’t know. She only knew that she sat in a chair for ten hours at a time and plopped down two hundred bucks. The style would last a good month before she had to plop down another fifty to have the twists taken out. Since she was far away from her beautician, Heaven knew she had to learn, or her hair would be a mess by the time she returned home.
“Nah,” Heaven said getting the hang of it. She wondered when she returned home if she would ever use the word no again. Nah seemed so much more, she laughed into her cup, more sophisticated.
“What’s funny?” one of the women asked.
“Nothing,” Heaven replied. “I was just thinking of something.”
“You don’t have much time for thinking. We have to get you ready.”
The door opened again and a group of women rushed in. Three more sisters, Isha, Hannah, and Irim. And five cousins. Heaven couldn’t even attempt to remember their names without coffee.
* * *
It turned out the women had been right. She hadn’t had much time. When it was evening, Heaven found her hair entwined with decorations and gold bracelets shoved on her arms.
“Whose are these?” she asked.
“They’re yours,” Fatima answered. “Now come on, hurry.” Just then the dressmaker came in and the same group of women began fussing over Heaven again, painting her body with red dye.
“Hold it, stop it! What are you doing?” Heaven pulled her hand back.
“This is Mehndi.”
“Will this stuff come off?” Heaven asked.
“In about a week. Now come on. Hamid’s coming, and we have to have the rest of your body painted.”
“Hamid can come tonight?”
“Yes. Usually he wouldn’t be allowed to attend, but since we’re the family for you both it will be done together.”
“Hamid’s having his body painted?”
“Yes.”
Within an hour, Heaven had been shoved into a beautiful yellow gown. Despite the red dye, she felt like the princess Hamid had told Armand that she was. Then Hamid was there, along with the brothers she hadn’t met: Imran, Irfan, and Ali. Heaven laughed softly as she looked at them. And here she’d always thought her husband tall; he was the runt of the litter, it appeared. They were seated side by side and the women began painting their palms.
“What’s the meaning of the paint? What are we going to do?” No one answered Heaven. The women giggled, but wouldn’t answer. Hamid sat quietly, barely looking at Heaven. That should have been her first clue that something was coming she might not like.
Then the men and women separated and the women begin throwing food at Heaven, pelting her with cake, sweets, and even pieces of fruit. She blinked and noticed that the men were doing the same to Hamid. She wondered why she needed to have a special dress made for this, and wondered also about the meaning.
As soon as they were cleaned and the partying commenced, she no longer needed an explanation. It was just an excuse for a party. Besides, she’d asked Fatima what the dye meant and could tell Fatima didn’t know. She’d said, simply, “Custom.” Heaven wanted to know what was behind the custom. When it was obvious that the women Fatima asked also didn’t know and began making up explanations, Heaven laughed and told them to forget it. It was just one of those things that had been done so long that no one questioned the why, except Heaven.
* * *
The next day Heaven was awake before any member of the household. She wanted to take a long shower, intending to get off the henna the women had painted her body with, but found she couldn’t wash it away. Lucky for her, with her dark skin, the dye wasn’t an eyesore. Then she remembered. This was her wedding day, and the butterflies began. Heaven was more nervous than she had been the day she married Hamid a year before. Then she remembered that this was their anniversary. How perfect.
Before long, the planning culminated in the main event. Between the women speaking Urdu and the ones speaking English, Heaven figured things out. Her stomach was rumbling, especially watching the other women eat, but she was permitted only strong tea and bread and little else. They thought she would be too nervous to eat. She was nervous, but she was also hungry.
“Heaven, the Nikal is here. You can’t come out now.” Fatima’s face was flushed.
“The Nikal,” Heaven repeated.
“Yes. Hamid is coming with our uncle to sign the marriage papers. Our father will stand in for you also. Then you can come out. After that you will go to the wedding feast. Now we need to get you dressed.”
If Heaven had thought the yellow dress was beautiful, she had no idea what to think of the champagne dress. It was the most stunning dress she’d ever seen, and the women had been able to make it into the full Cinderella look that sh
e wanted. It was not traditional but hey, she was the bride. From the ohhs and ahhs from the women, it was apparent they were happy with Heaven’s choice. The last thing was to have Fatima and two of the cousins place the hair adornments throughout her hair. They were in the same pale gold color.
Hamid’s mother came in and brought her several bags. “Heaven,” she looked at her sternly for a second, “you’re my daughter now. You will call me Ammi, like Hamid, and his father is your Abba. Okay?”
“Okay,” Heaven agreed. She wouldn’t have felt comfortable calling them Mom and Dad but Ammi and Abba she could handle.
“Here, this is for you.” Hamid’s mother shoved the bags at Heaven. “These are from your new family, and this is from your husband.”
Heaven’s desire was to open the gift from Hamid, but she was polite and first opened the ones from his parents. The beautiful necklace encrusted with jewels and matching earrings, several heavy gold bracelets, and a sapphire set left Heaven speechless.
“Thank you, Ammi,” Heaven said taking the jewelry from the wrappings. “They’re beautiful.” She hugged her new second mother tightly. Then she opened the box from Hamid. A ring with a diamond so large that at first she thought it was a cubic zirconium winked at her. She blinked. “Did Hamid pick this out himself?”
“Of course. He wouldn’t let anyone help, and everyone offered to. Put it on,” Fatima said.
Heaven closed the lid. “Nah, I want Hamid to do it.”
“That’s not the custom.”
“But we’re compromising, remember? It’s our custom in America. It means more to the bride when the groom places the ring on her finger.” She looked at the ring she’d been wearing for a year. She didn’t want to replace it, but then again, she did want Hamid to slip the new one on her finger. She moved her old ring to her right hand.
In thirty minutes a bell sounded and the women began pushing Heaven out the door of Hamid’s bedroom. “It’s time for the marriage ceremony to begin,” they said. “What are you going to say?”