Not That Interested

Chapter 37: The One With The Tattoos

"I'm normally not a praying man, but if you're up there, please save me Superman."- Homer Simpson

The weekend following Ali-Adiba's Nikah was fixed as the Valima (Wedding reception given by the Guy's family), as such, there wasn't much left to do to prepare for the ceremony. Ali had steadfastly refused to let Dad pay for the party, which made Mom and Dad both exasperated yet proud. I had bugged my brother to arrange a beach party for the event. It was slightly unorthodox for usual Pakistani wedding venues; rented Marriage Lawns, and Hotels/Clubs. I was in love with the beach, and everything to do with it, so naturally this was my first choice. It was so much fun arranging a quickie, intimate party at a private beach strip. I had asked one of my art school friends to do the event planning, he had even given us a "Discount" with his event managing business.

Adiba had decided to do her make-up herself, despite my Mom's protests. "Adiba Beta, dulhan, ko dulhan lagna chahye!" (Adiba child, a bride should look like a bride!) Adiba had cited the overly expensive salon make-over prices as "Unnecessary waste of money". She had even made up imaginary makeup allergies to deter Mom from her quest. I had decided not to intervene in this argument at all. Privately, I thought Salon Ladies were minions from un-feministic portions of hell; their hair pins, and wax-strips alone were enough to instill the fear of God in most self-respecting women, so I obviously (secretly) supported Adiba's decision. She had an amazing make-up sense, and I always loved her subtle choice of shades. She managed to look good without going crazy with her natural look. With her Tea-Pink traditional Gharara, I knew she'd end up looking gorgeous, with or without professional make-over help.

Ali had insisted on buying me a ridiculously costly designer gown for the day. I felt slightly overdressed for a beach party in the intricately gold threaded cream-colored flowy confection. My hair was knotted into a loose chignon at my nape, and I had chosen suitable, neutral shades of make-up to go with my dress. Mom beamed her approval at my appearance, and repeatedly made a million teary-eyed wishes for my future life. I was slightly surprised at her emotional reaction, but I chalked it up to Ali's wedding. Something about marriage makes people cry. Weird.

Dad and Mom join me in the TV room, to wait for the Bride and groom to descend from their room. We had decided to leave together for the beach. While we waited, I.saw my parents having a silent conversation, that only they could understand. I saw Ma glare at Dad twice, as she subtly jerked her head towards me. I narrow my eyes as Dad frowns back at Ma, and gently shakes his head.

"What are you guys talking about? I can't hear over all this noise?" I dryly quip, making both of them stare guiltily at the floor. Mom takes a deep breath and utters a quick prayer to the almighty. I'm curious now.

"Mina, beta. Do you love us?" She begins, with her typical Asian Mom blackmail monologue. EMV perks up, 'Better think twice about admitting to this particular love. She is angling for something big here!'

"Umm, Yeah Ma, of course I do." I say carefully. Dad discreetly wipes his forehead. Why are they so wary of me?

"Do you trust our judgement for your future?" Ma asks quietly. "I know that after Aree-, your previous relationship, you might not trust us to make any other decision for your lif-"

"MA! Stop, please. Don't ever say that Areeb was your fault. None of us could have expected him to do what he did. Whatever happened, surely saved me from future troubles. You, are not to blame for any of that! Don't ever think that I trust you any less now..." A couple of tears escape my eyes at seeing my parents' hesitation. They are doubting 23-years worth of excellent parenting, because of one wrong person. It is eating away at me. They shouldn't be blamed for my insufficiency. I was the one who was not enough for my fiance. I was the one who never really knew someone I grew up with. It was all me, and my fate.