The Belgian Beast

by Keyes, Janae

  Marc squeezed my hand tightly. Looking up at him, the butterflies in my stomach danced along with baby Axel who I think could sense the excitement of the day.

  “Je suis l’officier de l’état civil and I’ll be performing your civil marriage ceremony,” the woman introduced herself formally as she motioned for Marc and me to sit at the wooden table at the front of the small room.

  Marc pulled out my chair where I sat before he took the seat next to mine. Under the table he laced our fingers and held onto me tightly.

  We got to it rather quickly, l’officier de l’état civil read us our rights and the Belgian civil code as pertaining to marriage. In fifteen minutes, we’d heard the code, declared our dedication to one another, exchanged rings as we’d personally decided upon, and signed the registration book. Our witnesses Fabumi and Ayo signed their statement, paid the over three-hundred-Euro fee and were on our way.

  Standing outside La Maison communale, Luc and Charlotte snapped photos of Marc and I holding the little leather-bound book which held our marriage certificate and kissing. I was a much different woman than the nervous wreck, twenty-one-year-old I was when I first married. There were a few photos left from the day in my parent’s home, I didn’t smile and if I did it was more forced than anything. This time around, I couldn’t stop beaming with the pure joy that flowed through me.

  “How is this possible?” Marc asked as he stared at me in awe.

  “I don’t know but today is the best day,” I easily declared as I stood on my toes and left a kiss on his lips.

  “Okay lovebirds, let’s go party!” Ayo cheered.

  * * *

  The party Marc’s mom had planned was now a joint marriage celebration for Marc and me, plus Sophie and Basir.

  Charlotte had managed to book a restaurant not far from her home. Our friends, along with Marc and Basir’s families filled the place to celebrate the two unions that had taken place. The only thing missing was having more of my family than just Ayo, but I would always be grateful for his support.

  “You’re a beautiful bride,” Charlotte commented as she gave me her millionth hug of the day. “I’m so grateful Marc has you in his life. I don’t think he’d ever admit it, but he’d fallen into this place of the usual day to day routine. The only thing he had was his fighting. He’d secluded himself when he wasn’t fighting or at the gym. When he met you, he came out of the shell he’d buried himself in and for the first time I can see him living. You saved my son.”

  It was funny how people who are so different on the outside, like Marc and I, could be so incredibly similar on the inside. Trauma had taken its toll on both our lives and we were both forced into this whole of the usual, just living out our days with no real purpose outside our careers, but now we had each other.

  “You’d be amazed at how much that was my life too,” I commented with a smile to my groom who was across the room with a beer and chatting away with one of the guests.

  Instantly my heart stopped as I spotted someone I knew well at the entrance of the room where our reception was taking place. My grandmother stood with Ayo behind her who was grinning from ear to ear. Charlotte turned to see what I was looking at and she gasped.

  “Is that someone from your family?”

  “My grandmother.”

  Standing from my seat, I made a beeline to my grandmother and cousin. Marc spotted me and stepped away from his conversation and joined me in reaching my grandma who gave me the biggest smile as she took my hands into hers.

  “You look beautiful. Félicitations, mon trésor,” she congratulated me as she held onto my hands tightly. I shook my head in disbelief. I never expected anyone to come around and the least expected was my incredibly tradition bound and religious grandmother.

  “Mamy, what are you doing here?” I asked, still not believing she was standing right in front of me, plain as day with one of her favorite hijabs on which she only normally wore to celebrations.

  Ayo laughed from behind her. “You hadn’t noticed me leave, did you?”

  I shook my head fiercely. “No.”

  “Mamy called me and said she wanted me to come pick her up. So, here she is,” Ayo announced.

  I had no words. I could only throw my arms around my grandmother and cry tears of joy I had that little bit more support than I’d ever expect.

  “Oh, my little angel, I couldn’t sit back and not support your happiness,” she declared to me as she patted my arm. “Now, your old grandmother would like to have a seat.”

  “Of course,” Marc suddenly went into gear and helped lead my grandmother to a table. I sat next to her as she held onto my hand and squeezed it tight, her graying eyes looking me over.

  “Pregnancy is good on you,” she commented in her soft voice. I inherited my low and sweet voice from her. “But happiness looks better. I could see the change in you over the months and I knew there was good in your life. We were all disappointed that day, but I think most of my disappointment was being left in the dark. I want to be a part of what brings my family joy.”

  “I’m sorry I kept it a secret for so long, but I was so afraid. You see the outcome. My parents hate me.”

  “They don’t hate you, my dear. They will always love you with their whole hearts. They are disappointed but that night I told them that this life is too short to keep anger over things we can’t control. I told them we should support you and love your child no matter how he or she was brought into this world. In Islam, children are always innocent no matter their conception. This baby,” she placed her hand on my belly and gave a smile at feeling Axel’s kicks. “Is innocent and loved deeply.”

  Tears dripped down my cheeks. Her support meant more to me than anything. I placed my hand over hers.

  “Do you know what you’re having?” She asked as Axel continued to kick away as he usually did. He was destined to be a handful.

  “A baby boy,” I told her as Marc came behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders.

  “Al-ḥamdu lil-lāh,” she sang her praises to Allah. “Un petit garçon.”

  “Axel Mohamed,” I smiled as I told her the name we’d picked out for our son. “Would you like to meet my husband?”

  “Of course.” I don’t think I’d ever seen my grandmother smile so much.

  I easily motioned up to Marc who stood behind me with emotion in his eyes. He knew how much it’d hurt me to not have support from those I loved and now with even just my grandmother and Ayo, I had more than I could dream of.

  “Enchanté, Madame,” Marc bent to his knees to be at my grandma’s eye level.

  “Bonjour, young man. I hope you treat my granddaughter like the treasure she is. Do you hear me?” She was quick to assert herself over him.

  I giggled as for the first time ever I saw Marc, the Belgian Beast, have the slightest bit of fear in his eyes as my short little grandmother grilled him.

  “I have and will continue to treat your beautiful granddaughter with the utmost admiration,” he declared.

  “Good,” she stated with a nod. “You seem like the type of man that will keep her protected and raise the child with a good example.”

  “Always, Madame.”

  “You know, I wasn’t married when I became pregnant with my first child. My parents immediately made sure I married as quickly as possible to not allow my sin to bring shame upon the family. I was lucky that I loved that man dearly and he gave me two other children, but my parents never looked at me the same again. My prayer to Allah is that your parents find forgiveness in them, for you and your son. You are so much like me when I was young. I wasn’t like everyone else and I locked myself away. My husband was the key to that lock, and I can see yours is for you.” I’d never heard her story before. I never knew that she’d faced some of the same difficulties as me.

  “There would be days when you were younger and would sleep all day and night. Your mother would just say you were being lazy, but I knew it was more because I saw myself. It’s okay to be
that way, sometimes we can’t help it. I would try and talk to her about it, but she didn’t want to listen. Maybe she’ll learn to listen.”

  “Maybe,” I said, feeling a little bit of hope flow through me. Maybe my parents would come around and accept the cards they were dealt. I was happy, that should be enough.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Marc

  My strength had returned with ferocity. Months of physical therapy had done my arm well and I would be back in the octagon and keeping my undefeated title. Until my first scheduled fight, I trained harder than I’d ever done. I wanted to be the force I was before plus more. I had so much to prove.

  At only thirty years old, I had a few good years left in me I figured as average fighters retired from the sport in their mid-thirties. I’d made sure my name went down in the history books.

  “Good use of that arm,” Jean cheered as I spared with a fellow fighter. “Keep that speed too. You’re looking good Marc.”

  In August, it was planned I’d be back in the U.S.A, this time in California. All eyes were on me as I strived to make my comeback.

  Life had changed so much, and I took that with me as I fought. I’d defeated my most defeating voice. I no longer heard my father’s voice putting me down and telling me I was worthless. I now heard my wife praising me and uplifting me as she did every day. We did that for each other.

  Taking my partner to the ground, he tapped out and I declared victory. Standing up, Jean was applauding me, and Nina had arrived standing next to him with a smile on her face and a hand on her belly that was ready to blow. With only two months until her due date, we were knee deep into planning for our son’s arrival.

  I lent a hand to my practice partner and helped him to his feet before we both left our gym’s octagon and I jogged immediately down to Nina and pulled her into my arms.

  “Marc, you’re covered in sweat,” she complained as she tried to shove my sweaty body off her.

  “You don’t say that in bed when I’m working my magic,” I grumbled seductively into her ear.

  “It’s not the same,” she argued playfully as she shoved me once more and I reluctantly let her go. I looked her over. It was one of the few times she wore more traditional African clothing. Her dress was colorful and filled with intricate patterns and the scarf on her head covering her hair completely, matched.

  She had this light about her as she beamed at me. She wasn’t the same woman I’d met back at the train station in September. That woman was timid and scared. She only had one thing keeping her from drowning. Now she carried this confident spirit that was infectious. Every night, I couldn’t wait to get home and be wrapped in her aura.

  I was anxious for what the future held for us. Our son would arrive soon, and Nina was still at odds with her family but there was hope that would change as it was the final night of Ramadan and her grandmother had invited us over to feast with the family after nightfall.

  “I’m going to shower and then I’ll be ready to go,” I told her with a kiss on her cheek before I started toward the locker room.

  My knowledge of the Islamic faith was limited to what I did know from friends and Basir, but I’d learned so much more being with Nina. She wasn’t overzealous in her beliefs, but she did hold them dear to her. She’d grown up with faith being a large part of her life. I on the other hand had grown up as a number of Belgians with a more agnostic view on faith. My parents had both been raised Catholic but weren’t particularly strict on bringing my sister and I up with any faith-based cornerstone.

  Nina and I stayed up late often talking about how we’d raise our son. We’d come from two different places when it came to faith and we’d have to merge those into one. It was going to be an interesting challenge, but we were both up to it. At the end of the day we both agreed what was most important was he was healthy and happy.

  Finishing my shower, I dressed a bit nicer than I normally did. My usual sweatpants, aka the key to seducing Nina, would have to take a backseat for me to formally meet her family. I buttoned up my shirt and pulled on my dark jeans which I figured kept it a little casual and not overly formal. I’d never been to a Ramadan celebration and didn’t know what to expect.

  Nina chatted with Jean while she awaited my arrival. Her hands as usual were placed on her belly and I’m sure Axel was murdering her insides with his strong kicks. That boy was meant to be an MMA fighter.

  “Looking good there, son,” Jean mentioned as I approached.

  “I hope it’s okay,” I noted to Nina who gave me a warm smile.

  “It’s perfect,” she cooed as she tried to stand but was failing the battle with her round belly in front of her.

  I presented her with my hands and pulled her to her feet.

  “I don’t know how I’m to survive another two months like this.”

  “You’ll do it,” I reassured as I laced our fingers.

  We said our goodbyes to Jean and left the gym behind. Walking slow as Nina waddled along, we arrived at the parking garage where in a reserved spot our car awaited. Becoming a father meant making some changes and parking my motorbike to get a car.

  I helped Nina into our new BMW SUV before I hopped in myself and we were off toward Nina’s parent’s home, where the family’s celebration was taking place.

  Cruising down the ring, I glanced in Nina’s direction. She was chewing her bottom lip and her fingers toyed with the fabric of her dress. Reaching over I gripped her hand tightly to reassure her. Two months had passed since she’d last seen or had any real contact with her parents besides the daily voicemail she left her mom in hopes she came around and answered the phone one day.

  “I can sense things won’t go well,” she murmured as she peered out the window and I took the exit into Halle.

  “Where is my optimistic petite danseuse?” I rubbed her hand in hopes of encouraging her.

  “She’s worried but Mamy said she wouldn’t let anything happen and she’d keep the peace,” Nina noted as we began down the small residential street where her parents lived. She gripped onto my hand. “I have to keep the faith. It has been thirty days of fasting, prayer, and reflection. I hope everyone used their time wisely.”

  I’d never known what the holiday was for until Nina explained the month was more than just fasting until nightfall but prayer, reflection, and community. Nina didn’t take part in the fasting due to her pregnancy, but she dedicated herself to prayer, volunteered a bit at the mosque near our apartment, and I’d catch her up late at night writing in her journal as she liked to do to reflect.

  “Here goes nothing,” Nina commented with a nervous sigh.

  I parked the car and quickly got out and jogged around to help Nina out. With her hand secured in mine, we began the short walk from where we parked to her parent’s front door.

  Nina rang the bell and moments later the door opened to her mother who sneered instantly at the sight of us.

  “What are you doing here?” she snapped ferociously.

  “Mamy invited us,” Nina said, her voice small.

  “Est-ce Nina?” Her grandmother’s voice called from inside the house.

  Her mother only grumbled something under her breath before allowing us in the house.

  “Maybe we should just go,” Nina whispered to me.

  “Your grandmother invited us. We can stay for a little bit. I think it will be good,” I tried to sound optimistic, but things were already going downhill fast.

  I followed Nina into the modest home she shared with her parents when they left Brussels until she was married to her first husband. I spotted a photo I recognized that Nina had in her old bedroom of herself as a teenager with braces.

  We entered the living room filled with people who all seemed to go silent with our entrance. I placed my arm protectively around Nina’s waist as I spotted her brother sitting on the couch with a very pregnant woman. He glared at me as if he was stabbing me with a thousand knives.

  “Eid Mubarak tout le monde,” Nina said i
n a shaky voice.

  “Eid Mubarak, ma petite,” Nina’s grandmother said with a grand smile as she motioned for us to come to her. A path was made as we stepped in her grandma’s direction. We each took turns leaning down and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “So much bigger than when I last saw you.” She rubbed Nina’s large belly.

  A woman and Nina’s mom began to chat in a language I didn’t know nor understand as Ayo stood and greeted us as well before he gave his seat to Nina.

  “What are they speaking?” I asked Nina as I leaned over to her.

  “Bambara. It’s one of the main languages of Mali,” Nina answered me. “I only know a few words. I never learned to speak it.”

  “And who is the woman your mom is talking to?” I asked intrigued by who everyone was and what was going on around me.

  “My aunt. My dad’s sister.”

  “My mom,” Ayo interjected from next to me.

  I’d been in some awkward situations but this one took the cake. Nina was an outcast in her own family. She’d never fit in, but they always accepted her. Now no one spoke to her, even her own mother who continued to glare as she chatted in a language Nina didn’t fully understand. Maybe Nina was right. Perhaps we shouldn’t have come.

  “Nina,” a voice from the other end of the couch spoke up. “When are you due?” I peered to see a woman who also had a huge rounded stomach and two children climbing on her lap. This had to be Nina’s sister-in-law whom I’d been warned about.

  “July thirteenth,” Nina told her politely.

  “Only about two weeks after me,” the woman announced proudly as if she had a leg up on Nina for being due first.

  Noise came from the hallway and the man I knew was Nina’s father strolled into the living room with a large platter in his hand and a huge smile until his eyes landed on Nina and his smile faded.

  “What is she doing here?” He shot angrily with a nod directly in Nina’s direction. “And with that man?”