Ria, are you ok?

Chapter 8

36 – Ria

The stewardess refilled my lemonade and asked if I wanted chicken curry or vegetable pasta. I went for the pasta because I don't even want to imagine the amount of hormones and drugs they pump chickens with

"Are you visiting relatives in Pakistan?" the man sitting next to me asked.

"No, I'm visiting a friend." Do I really look like I have family in Pakistan or was that just a random question to start a conversation?

"Is he your boyfriend?" he blatantly asked.

"No, just a friend," I replied.

"Are you married?" he continued.

I thought about it for a while and imagined a world where that would be an appropriate question to ask someone a minute after meeting them. "Well, something like that. It's complicated, I don't want to talk about it." I replied while starting to imagine what was waiting for me when I arrived.

He didn't talk to me again for the rest of the flight. Come to think of it, this was probably the first time someone asked me if I was married. I suddenly felt old. Even though I'm almost twenty-five, I could probably pass as an eighteen or nineteen-year-old if I wanted to, so everyone at home assumes I am too young to be married.

Marriage hasn't really crossed my mind yet, why did he have to ask me that? Now I can't help but ask myself if I ever will get married.

I just got into a last-minute flight with two pictures of chickens in my purse to go to see a random guy I met online. Who would want to marry someone like me? Everyone in Pakistan I guess. The prospect of it frightened me but I decided to play it cool and act as if I knew what I was doing.

While looking at the white clouds floating beside us, I thought of mom and how I wished she was here with me now. Sleep took over me and I woke up just as we were about to land at the Islamabad International Airport. I fastened my seat belt and enjoyed the view.

Some passengers started to applaud as the plane landed. I was still thinking about marriage. Imagine if I married someone, flew somewhere together and found out they are the kind of person who claps when the plane lands. He would have to be extremely funny, kind, good-looking and also a billionaire for me to overlook that.

The plane finally stopped and the passengers stood up and started collecting their belongings. I followed them and then the thought struck me. I am in Pakistan. "What did I get myself into?" I asked myself as I descended from the plane.

37 - Peter

The driver took me to a really nice hotel, maybe too nice for my budget. Nevertheless, I walked in with him, allowing him to carry my small three-kilogram bag, that way the receptionist would see him bringing in a new customer so he can get his commission. I paid the twenty-five dollars room charge with my credit card and he proceeded to wait outside in his car so that when I go to my room, he can come in and collect his money from the receptionist.

Twenty-five dollars is a lot in Pakistan considering the average wage is less than a dollar an hour, but my back was still sore after spending the last two nights sleeping in the front seat of a truck and in the hard-cold ground respectively so I could definitely use a good night's sleep whatever the price I had to pay.

The receptionist handed me a key and showed me to my room which was on the second floor. I noticed there was a computer in the lobby so I asked him if I could use it to check my emails. It had been almost a week since I wrote to my parents.

I left my bag in the room and headed downstairs. There were ten new emails in my inbox, and among them were two from my friend Ria. I couldn't help but open the first one. She didn't write anything though, she copied the details from a plane ticket issued by a travel agency from Vancouver to Islamabad. I guess this is her way to say she would be coming here after all.