July 2019
Madiha
Beep...beep...beep
My pager went off.
'I have a patient with intense abdominal pain, may be diverticulitis. Please call for possible inpatient admission - Omar Khan'
"Omar Khan. Which one is he?", Kylie my co-resident peered over my shoulder then looked at the new resident face sheet that had been put up on the main notice board.
"No idea", I grumbled. A new desi sounding intern was the least of my worries when I was still debating on how to respond to the text message on my phone from my fiancé of six months who lived, worked and studied in New York.
"Oh Omar is cute", I heard Kylie say while I typed out a message and ignored her.
Me: I am on service today.
Jawad: But I am your fiancé who is in town for literally 48 hours. Don't tell me you can't even take out an hour to have coffee with me.
Jawad: Come on babe, I miss you.
Me: I didn't know you were coming. If you had told me in advance I could have changed my call day or something. There is nothing I can do right now.
Jawad: Is this how you're going to behave when we get married?
I closed my eyes and sighed deeply. Do it for your parents, I told myself just like I had so many times before. They deserved to be happy knowing that both their daughters would be getting married into respectable families. Which really translated to well-to-do families.
My story was not exactly one of rags to riches, but it came pretty close.
My parents had come to the US from Pakistan after winning a visa lottery in the early 1990s. Dad had been enrolled in a college back home, and mom had just finished high school when the two had gotten married. It was a typical arranged marriage of that time, where they hadn't even seen each other till the day of the wedding. Yet, according to them, they had fallen in love at first sight.
But despite the loving atmosphere we grew up in, there were always subtle reminders of how tough our financial situation was. My father worked as a cab (taxi) driver for many years while my mother had started a home catering business. Abu eventually received a diploma on automotive engineering, and a decent job fixing high end luxury cars.
God helps those who help themselves - was the mantra we lived by.
"You get what you want, not what you wish for", were my father's words that were entrenched in me.
Right now, though, all I wanted to do was live the life I knew I was destined to live. As a physician who led from the front in ever aspect of her career. And, make my family proud of me. Unfortunately, where I came from pride was linked to conforming with social norms and not being the rebellious, high-strung daughter I had grown up to become.
"Why are you scowling at your phone?", Kylie asked, her hand worriedly placed on my shoulder. She was a good friend. Non-judgmental and always willing to listen, she and another desi friend were the only ones who had kept me sane through the last couple of years.
"My fiancé is here for a friend's wedding. Last minute plan he says. But somehow I am supposed to drop everything and go have coffee with him now", I complained.
She raised an eyebrow, I braced for the question she had already asked me a dozen times before, "Remind me again, why are you marrying that douchebag?"
What choice do I have? I wanted to say.
Whether it was because my parents thought that I needed companionship during the crazy, busy life I led, or just thought I was ageing out, they insisted that I settle down. But they also realized pretty quickly that it is extremely difficult to find good proposals in a country where most people don't share your religion, especially if you were not the type to go out and look for eligible men yourself.
Or you were a nerd with dusky skin, weird curly hair, with average height and build. In other words, nothing special to look at.
I would never denigrate myself because of my physical attributes, or lack thereof, but I was also a realist. Desi men, and their families, wanted a certain type of a 'look' in their future wives, and unlike my younger sister I did not meet that criteria.
That was just my reality, and I was honestly ok with it and with being single.
But then entered Jawad Shah. A 27 years old, good-looking guy, with a muscular build and an opinion on everything all the time. Some of which I actually agreed with. The cherry on top were his parents, who were long-distance relatives of my father. They lived in Pakistan but their son had come to the US to study and was settled in NY with a well-paying job in the financial sector.
On paper he was perfect for me.
"He wasn't that bad in the beginning", I told Kylie, truthfully. Most of the time our conversations had been great. He was open, and honest and despite him having an obvious rebellious streak of the social kind, we seemed to have enough in common.
My friend looked at me solemnly, "People change, Madi. I get your family dynamics but you're going to be the one spending your life with Jawad. Not your parents. So please, just be careful"
I simply nodded. A part of me knew that her words had already become reality. I just didn't want to see it. Neither did I want to accept that he had caught me off-guard with his rigidity. Or that I was being a fool to even try and accommodate him.
But how was I supposed to break my family's heart, especially my father's who had worked so hard to get me where I was? Getting me married off was the last hill he had to climb, and he thought he was well on his way up. How was I to push him down now?
"Thanks Kylie. I'll be fine", I reassured her, as much as I did myself.
The reason I had gone down to the ER instead of just calling the intern back, was because I was trying to get as much done as possible so I could take a quick break for a few minutes. Jawad had said he would meet me at the entrance of the hospital at 3 pm, and it was now 3:15 pm. I was pacing back and forth impatiently when I saw him walk in to the building.
My heart skipped a beat just looking at him. His 6 ft 2 inch frame walked in as if he owned the place. He was still wearing his aviator sunglasses, and between his head full of dark wavy hair and a wide smile with the whitest teeth I had ever seen, I could tell that I wasn't the only one staring at him.
How is he so good looking? What does he even see in me. My mind filled with self-doubts again.
"Hey Madi!", he waved while calling out to me.
"Salaam Jawad! This is...uh...a nice surprise"
"I am full of surprises", he laughed, sticking his hands into his pockets. How I wished then that he used his words more wisely so I could accept all of him. But of course, that was just a wish. And wishes rarely come true.
"Let's go to the coffee shop I just passed down the road and I'll fill you in on my friend's wedding. It actually gave me some ideas for our wedding too," he flashed his smile at me once again as he took off his glasses and his dark grey eyes peered into my very ordinary ones.
I almost felt like I was jolted awake from a beautiful dream, but there they were: his unreasonable expectations. "Jawad, I can't leave the hospital. I told you I am on call! We can go to the cafeteria if you want..."
He interrupted me, scrunching his nose, "The hospital cafeteria? Eww, no way. The place smells of disinfectant."
I work at a hospital, I wanted to point out but held back, in the interest of peace.
"You know Madi, I came all the way here for you, and you can't even take a little bit of time out to have coffee with me", his voice took on an angry tone, even though he thankfully kept the volume low. But that was enough for my inner thoughts to come out in full rage.
"And Jawad how many times have I told you that I can't just get up and leave my work. I am still a trainee, my schedule is planned weeks in advance", I kept my voice low as well, but I glared at him unwilling to back down. I would have reminded him too that he had not actually come to Chicago for me, but I knew that would only escalate the situation.
"Fine," he huffed, "then we can meet after you get off from work in the evening."
"I am on overnight call", I sighed, almost feeling bad now. But that moment of self-deprecation was soon over.
"I am leaving first thing in the morning tomorrow..." Jawad frowned raising his voice this time, enough that the receptionist looked up at us.
I was going to tell him to lower his voice and then sound like a broken record by saying that there really wasn't any way for me to go anywhere except the hospital cafeteria. But before I could say anything, I heard a vaguely familiar voice behind me.
"Dr Ahmed?"
I turned to see the intern from the ER standing there with is backpack slung over his shoulder. What was his name again? I couldn't remember and he wasn't wearing his badge anymore.
He looked at Jawad and then back at me, and said, "Umm...Dr Ahmed, the ER attending asked me to come get you."
What? I looked at him, confused why the attending wouldn't just page me. Then it struck me, the nameless intern was giving me a reason so I could get away from the weird situation I had gotten myself in.
"Thank you Doctor," I nodded to him, "Jawad, I am sorry, but I have to go."
Whether it was the intern's presence, or that my fiancé wasn't in the mood to make a scene anymore, he just mumbled, "Suit yourself" and walked off. Leaving me flustered and upset.
But not alone.
I heard someone clear their throat behind me and quietly ask, "Are you ok?"
God, why is he still standing here?
The fact that I couldn't remember his name made matters worst. But I also had no intention of revealing my personal issues to an intern who I should still be upset at, even if he had been gentleman enough to intervene right now.
Perhaps I should have thanked him. Maybe I was too quick to judge him earlier on. At least I should have asked him to remind me what his name was. But I was too riled up and honestly had had enough of men in general, and desi men in particular. I just ignored him and walked back towards the main hospital.
Rude, my inner voice chided me.
As if anyone cares, I retorted to it.
I should have looked back at the intern then. Because in that moment, he really had cared.
I might even have caught a glimpse of my future.
*******
Thoughts on Madiha aka Madi, who talks to herself quite a lot?
Even though they are both physicians, she has a very different upbringing from Omar. How that may affect any future relationship between them remains to be seen!
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