Breathe the ocean in

26

MARI

The wedding will take place at Samir's house, that's why we're heading there on Friday evening. Jahiza sends us to separate bedrooms, to honor the traditions she claims. Swallowing the lump in my throat I withdraw to the given room holding my head high while Kir goes to his father's home office.

'I can handle it,' – I whisper to myself standing in the shower. 'I'm stronger than that,' – I repeat like a mantra lying to my lonely bed. 'I need it to happen to get back home,' – I convince myself not able to fall asleep. The sleep shuns my eyes, but there are no tears thank Goodness. There's only dull anguish. It's far into the night when the door creaks, a moment later Kir gets under my blanket. I'm pretending to be asleep, don't want to discuss anything. He holds me so tight that it's hard to breath, hides his face in my hair and freezes.

When I wake up in the morning he's already gone, only the scent of his eau de toilette reveals that he was there tonight. The maid brings the abaya embroidered with golden threads for me together with the breakfast, the bottom dress is as posh, the hair stylist and makeup artist come a bit later. I doll myself up imagining that it's exactly the way how the ancient beauties were gathering to their last journey for sharing their early deceased husband's fate. Those thoughts are adding more to my stress of course. My role in the upcoming ceremony is not that big, all what's required of me is to stand still in the crowd of Kiram's relative females behind his mother's and Azra's backs. This holiday is dedicated to one girl only, it's her day.

I don't see Kir before the celebration and prefer to spend this time in the inner yard in the shade of date palms. The yesterday anguish backs down temporarily, so well-known apathy replaces it, the apathy that took a lot of strength to win it over. But now it's a blessing. I'm not sure how long do I stay there at the rim of elegant fountain. Azra breaks my privacy, she holds a cup of hot tea and some pill for me.

- What's this? - I wonder with caution.

- Just a sedative, - after a pause she adds, - I know what you're feeling like right now.

I'm shaking my head in refuse:

- Thank you, I'm all right, - I'm taking the tea, leaving the offered remedy on the tray.

- As you wish, - she says. - But don't you dare to make a show at the wedding. That's enough that Kiram is out of sorts because of you. You'd better comfort the boy.

- Each person makes his choice himself. He messed it, he's the one to clean it, - I respond her coldly. Azra watches me disapprovingly and leaves me alone without saying anything else.

They call me to the garden soon. It's exactly in the best traditions of the oriental tales there: everything shines with lights and gold. The guests already gathered, slim Dina's silhouette flashes in the throng. Now I don't want to see even my friend, I'm afraid that one sympathetic look may ruin the ice wall I built around my heart.

The newlyweds show up at least. Kir looks so unfamiliar and foreign in his costume covered with gold that it's becoming much easier to take the happening. It's just a performance which I have to watch through. Then I'll write a review, send it to the editor and happily get that image out of my head. No other options.

The event follows the established by centuries schedule: the parents' blessing, the exchange of their families with presents accompanied by long speeches, the most part of those I don't understand, then numerous relatives and friends with their gifts. When this string of congratulations comes to an end, I can't feel my feet and I'm happy I put my sneakers on instead of the golden pumps with indiscreet heels they brought for me in the morning. I'm trying to look wherever but at the couple sitting on the carved chairs on the high pedestal. But my glance returns to them over and over again. They look as if they stepped from the pages of fancy book with stories of outlandish countries. Each new congratulation Kir meets with an almost unnoticeable lifting of his lips. He can smile absolutely different to it, genuinely, but it seems not today. I've learned him so well during the past year I can understand by subtle movements that he's irritated, tired and worried about something. And I don't feel sorry for him tonight. The girl by his side is hiding her face behind niqab like all the rest of the women, but her eyes are huge and frightened, it looks like she's ready to rush away any second. Anyways all of us withstand this long-running show till the end.