So a few changes here and there. Sue x
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Part 1
24 hours earlier
Today was the last day of term for secondary school children and as a teacher I also got the week off. I couldn’t be more thrilled with the short break after taking up my post of Head of Year 10 had mentally and physically drained me these past few weeks. Taking off my apron I sat at the huge oak table in the dining room attached to the kitchen and unlocked my Iphone to check for any new messages.
*new message from Dawoud*
Come downstairs, Mum wants to speak to you.
My lazy ass twenty-seven year old brother wasn’t bothered to climb the stairs to deliver the message and so he’d opted to text me instead. Typical. God forbid he should ever lose his phone; his dependence on it was ridiculous. I dismissed the thought from my head just as quickly as it entered; I needed one of two of my siblings on my side.
My dinner could wait as far as Mum was concerned so I left the dining room in search of her.
“Sophia, come in here, I want to see you,” called my mum upon hearing me descend the stairs. Her voice was so loud at her normal frequency that I had no doubt she was calling me from the conservatory.
I mentally evaluated the scene before me. Mum sat comfortably in her usual colourful saree on the sofa and looked at me in greeting as if I was the Bangladeshi version of Brad Pitt. Something definitely wasn’t right here, she was never this happy.
“What do you want, Mum?” I asked sceptically. I took a seat close to her figuring this was going to take longer than a few minutes and dinner would have to wait.
“I’ve been meaning to speak to you about something for a while, Soph...” She started. Her use of my nickname, Soph meant she wanted something from me and she wanted something bad. The last time she’d used the endearment on me I’d ended up massaging her back and feet for two hours.
“I need you to hear me out though first, promise?”
I was promising her nothing and so I responded with “Uh, go on.” It seemed that response was enough for her to continue.
“As I said, I’ve been meaning to speak about this to you for a while now. You see, you’re a grown, beautiful woman now and you’re not exactly getting younger. Your father and I long to see all of our children happily married and taken care of before our time comes –”
I could actually see where she was going with this.
“It’s time for you to get married, Sophia. I’ve delayed long enough so that you could get a degree and a good job and your recent promotion to Head of Year at workplace only confirmed that you’re now ready to get married.
Yesterday I was talking to your Aunt, Ayesha and she mentioned a young man she knew of related to her through her father in-laws sister. He’s a Doctor.” She sighed then.
I could guarantee the fact that this man was a doctor was the only reason why she’d allowed Aunt Ayesha to talk her into this; Mum had always wanted Dawoud to be a doctor and when he’d gone into accountancy she’d turned her sights on me. Unfortunately for her I’d wanted to go into teaching for as long as I could remember. Thankfully she had a child still, Leyla, who could perhaps fulfil her dreams.
“He comes from a respectable family and has his own house for the two of you to live in.” She continued in a dreamy voice unaware that I wasn’t paying attention to the accolade she was paying this unknowing and unknown man.
“Woah, you’re jumping the guns there slightly. I haven’t even agreed to this and you’re already housing me with a stranger!”
“You’ve always known this is the way of Bangladeshi culture, Sophia! One of my roles as your mother is to find you a husband to make you happy. Think of me as a big catalogue; I’ll find you all the best men and you have to simply sift through them to try to find your husband. You dislike any, you simply return them. What do you say?” She put her hands on my shoulders and gently shook me. Her analogy of the catalogue was deeply disturbing and I wondered where she’d heard such a thing.
“You do realise mum that in this day and age marriage and happiness are not mutually exclusive?” I answered and I knew I’d hit a nerve.
“It’s all this education! I knew I would come to regret allowing you--” She started.
One thing about Bangladeshi mums was that when they started to lecture you, they never stopped. Ever. You’d think it was all over and BAM, three hours later they resume and you’d wish you never said anything in the first place.
Hoping to quell such an occurrence on the first day of my holiday I quickly gave in to her.
“Fine, fine. I’ll agree to see this charmer! But if I say no, I really mean no and it’s not my shy way of telling you I want you to arrange a surprise marriage ceremony for us. It ends there. Agreed?”
Happy that her bluff had paid off she gave me a suffocating hug and told me to be off so she could watch her daily drama on T.V in peace knowing she could finally get me married off.
“You know I’m proud of you dear, you won’t regret this. I know you won’t,” she said as I left the room.
So why did I feel like this was the worst decision I’d made today?
I mean, I knew this day would come. Mum had actually broached the subject of me marrying when I’d finished my A-levels but I’d managed to put her off with my good grades and off I went to university to study theology and politics. Before I knew it I’d graduated and taken a post at a local secondary school as a teacher of History, Politics and Religion. Three years on and I’d been promoted to Head of Year 10. In the haste of studying and starting my first job I’d hardly found time for meeting someone I’d want to marry and so I couldn’t exactly refuse my mum’s help.
In my culture the parents had the hard task of finding suitable brides/grooms for their children and I had no problem against finding my future partner in such a way as I was hardly about to go seek out my own groom.
Dinner became a distant memory and it was just as well that I saw Dawoud and Leyla trying to secretly devour my dinner as I passed them by on my way up to my room. This was going to be a long holiday, I thought as I drifted off to sleep upon reaching the comfort of my bed.
