"If you don't know where you're going, any road will take you there." -- George Harrison
Our six-month anniversary is approaching soon. Half a year has gone by since Shehzer and I got married. It feels like time is wearing Reeboks; while being chased by rottweilers.
I am so used to the idea of us together, that it feels difficult imagining my life before him. It is incredibly un-feministic of me, but I have started perceiving my life into two time-frames, B.S. (Before Shehzer) and A.S. (After Shehzer).
We are far from perfect. We often have fights, (Although, I'm the one initiating most of them), and we have different ideas about a lot of things, (Money handling, and career goals e.g.), but we're learning to accept each other with our differences.
After we cleared our misunderstandings, it seemed like an obstruction was removed. We grew closer together, and shared a lot of secrets. He is kind of my best friend now! He probably knows more about me than Adiba.
I came to know more about his own erratic childhood. Although he still has trouble opening up about his Dad, I have gathered enough information to seriously hate the guy's guts. Once,Shehzer told me that his dad deliberately let Rania get stuck in a dumbwaiter at their old house, he even drove off leaving the two kids alone. Shehzer then climbed in, and pushed Rania out. As a consequence, he nearly suffocated for two hours in the narrow space. His claustrophobia started from there.
At odd moments, I have noticed Shehzer become slightly aloof, and withdrawn whenever he sees fathers interacting with their children. I feel so helpless about it, because I can't change his past. In fact, I feel unable to empathize, because my own Dad is such a stellar parent.
Surprisingly, George, Shehzer's old classmate, took a liking to me. She is so much like Adiba, it is frightening. They are both slightly crazy, wickedly humorous, and incredibly blunt about their thoughts. Her actual name is Georgina Beth Harmon, but she hates the girly name, and insists on being called George. She is a Pediatrician, working at the hospital where Shehzer used to work (He has since then, moved onto a Genetic Diseases Research facility).
It's interesting hanging with her, because she knows all the undiscovered food places, and non-mainstream shopping spots of Baltimore. She also has interesting stories about Shehzer from his school and College days.
"He used to be this incredibly moody, reserved person. The smart kid, y'know? The girls used to be crazy about his dark, brooding looks. Then Saleena managed to sink her claws in." George opened up to me over an ice-cream sundae, "She knew he was the perfect match for her. Smart, wealthy, bright future, easy on the eyes...." She winks at me.
"I always wonder how ladies get the pluck to approach men like this! Don't get me wrong, I totally admire courage, but I have always left the chasing to Shehzer in our relationship." I pinkened as I recalled the early days of marriage, "Well. Most of the time, anyways."
"Woohoo! You go Home girl!" George High-fived me, stopping the waiter to announce, "We need another caramel crunch cup. Make it free, in the name of feminism!"
"Ha. Ha. Seriously though, what happened next?" I prod her.
"Hmm, well, she had very specific ideas about what her partner should be like. She was such a queen bee, with an extensive social life. She tried to get Shehzer to loosen up, parties, clubbing, hangouts and what not." She pauses to pop in a wafer in her mouth, "He tried, for her sake, even though it clearly wasn't his scene. I found him anxious, and uncomfortable during those two years. He was trying too hard at being something he wasn't. That's when I actually got to know him better, because I was going through one of my depression phases, and I liked being alone too."
I felt my heart squeeze in sympathy over this. George's bubbly personality made it difficult to believe that she was a depression victim. She often had to take strong drugs, simply to get out of bed during "dark" mornings. It often is the case, that the seemingly happiest people are the saddest inside. Robin Williams' recent death is an eye opener.
"Anyhoo. He often ducked out of her party plans because he shared babysitting duties with his Mom. For Rania, y'know. She began seeing Rania as her competition for Shehzer's affections...."
EMV has been simmering with anger during this time, 'Everytime I feel remorse about the restroom, BAM. The twat makes me revel in it!'
"I don't know what exactly Shehzer overheard during one of our earlier residencies, but the scene wasn't pretty. I have never seen your guy this angry at anything."
I didn't explain that I already knew about it. This just made me love him more than ever. His fierce loyalty to his sister, his protectiveness; it made him the man I fell for.
When I got home that day, Shehzer was sufficiently surprised about my overly enthusiastic attack on him. I actually climbed him like a monkey in my eagerness to kiss him.
"Woah. I should send you out with George more often!" He laughed breathlessly, lifting his lips from mine, patting my legs wrapped around his waist. "Not that I'm complaining, but what brought this on?"
"Thank you, for being you." I breathed simply, before tugging him back for another kiss.
.....
I am still on a learners driving permit here, which is incredibly annoying for me, because it means that Shehzer has to drive me to and from Art School.
I started my masters semester pretty soon after our honeymoon.
I often relive those two weeks over and over again! Sun. Sand. Beach. Pool. And us.
When we were picking out possible places to go, I wanted to go for West Indies. Shehzer seemed to be okay with the idea, not fully understanding my enthusiasm until after some time.
"Minnie. Why West Indies?" He asked nonchalantly as we painted our Sunroom.
"Uhh...the culture, Shehzer! It is breathtaking. And uhh-err, Don't they have volcanoes?"
He stared aghast at me, "You want to climb volcanoes? For our Honeymoon?"
I shrugged.
"You wouldn't happen to be going for the T-Twenty WorldCup happening there? Eh?" He slyly flicked paint at me.
Rats farts! He caught me!
"Puhleeeeze can we not go? I swear, we'll go for Pakistan's matches only!" I pouted.
"Nuh-uh. No way! I want to be the only man you yell at, during our time. Not the boys in green." He gave me a paint-filled hug, making me squeal.
When he showed me the pictures of his place, I caved in. I didn't have a choice. White Sand beaches have always been a weakness of mine. Needless to say, I don't regret giving up cricket for this, because Bora Bora is actually a slice of heaven on earth.
It's an island in French Polynesia. Pristine beaches, straw huts intermingled with raft-like resort houses. We actually stayed in a moored boat house. You open the front door, and whoosh, dive into clear blue waters!
I went snorkelling for the first time, and even took up cliff-diving as a dare from Shehzer. The local cuisine was a bit too spicy, but definitely adventurous for the foodie in me.
The best part was just being together, to be honest. We learned about each others' quirks. Our likes, dislikes, our interests. He learned that I had ticklish knees (resulting in much shrieking and pillow fights), I learned that he couldn't sleep before reciting the prayers his Mom had taught him.
He learned that I was crazy about his soap-cologne-aftershave smell, and I learned that he secretly hated my straightened hair.
"Chaos is beauty, my love!" He said kissing my horrible bed-curls. I didn't believe him one bit though, typical female that I am.
I also realized that Shehzer is horrible with money. He spends it like Kim Kardashian on a shopping spree. I am the financially savvy one in our relationship (Which has EMV in stitches!). I bug him to maintain household accounts, and curb the excess, he spends on pleasing me. I did allow him one gift for our honeymoon though.
"Burberry trench-coat??" I squealed over the designer bag, as my husband shook his head exasperatedly. I know I shouldn't have allowed him the bloated expense, but a girl has her weaknesses.
Mine is camel brown, silk lined, with a statement buckle belt. I am in heaven!
"I swear it looks like any other trench coat." Shehzer rolled his eyes at my reverent expression.
"Oh, you poor deluded man! Dealing with thick medical books has turned your brains into ketchup water." I patted his cheek sympathetically.
"Hmm. Minnie, do you remember, back in Karachi, you told me that you would have hugged me for those magic markers? and I asked, just a hug?..." He tugged me towards him, making my breath hitch. "...and then you said that they were just magic markers, not diamonds, or-" He pauses to nuzzle my ears, nipping lightly at the soft earlobe. "-Burberry coats..." His deep chuckle thrilled me.
"Uhh...I g-guess I did say that." I have trouble forming words when he touches me. Inside, I am melting because he remembered such a random thing of mine.
"Well, then love. It's paytime."
......
I smile whenever I remember those 14 heavenly days. Daydreaming about it gets me through some of my boring classes at College.
MICA is a fantastic school! Even though I got my bachelors from the best Art school in Karachi, the experience over here is vastly different. I am learning interesting new art mediums, and discovering my own niche in the design world.
I recently experimentes with this incredible live art technique. Basically, we paint over actual physical objects, or people, and then take pictures. The photographs look like they are oil paintings, instead of reality. It's an illusion paradox!
I tried to get Shehzer to model for a project, and the sweet guy agreed, but he drew the line at painting on his lips.
"How are we supposed to make out if you put this crap on me?" He grumbled, ducking away from my paint-brush.
"It's for a school project Shazz. Please stay still! I swear, I'll make out with you, regardless of the paint. It's non-toxic!" I lied, yanking him back onto the scene set I had created in my sunroom studio. He calmed down.
EMV snorted, 'Love is not only blind, it is downright gullible. The fool.'
I had taken up painting regularly again. My architectural design teacher was very impressed by my 3-D experiments; he even promised me a possible show-case space at a private art gallery in New Jersey.
I had made some new friends at college, although I really couldn't socialize all that much outside of campus. After classes, I was eager to go home to my husband. I loved our cozy, homey condo, with it's eclectic furniture choices, warm, textured walls, and my art gallery/sun room/studio. I had added plenty of indoor plants to the decor, and my paintings hung in odd, strategic places. Shehzer had encouraged me to experiment with one of our walls, so our living room wall was a geometric printed, black and white mural, done entirely by me.
I was slowly learning home management skills. It was tough keeping up with studies, and doing household chores. Shehzer and I had divided tasks, he did the laundry, and vacuuming, while I cooked and cleaned. A weekly cleaning service made my work marginally easier. I realized that I had been a downright, spoiled, daddy's princess back home. To think that I had never done my own laundry before moving here! We used to have maids for these things in Pakistan. I often complained to Ma that even more than my family, I missed my maids over here.
"Ma! I still have to iron my clothes for tomorrow!" I moaned tiredly to my Mom during our phone call, "Please let me import Zulekha (Our maid) to Baltimore!"
"My baby! Are you eating well darling? I am so worried about your eating habits! Mina, you should stop shoving junk food. You will be a mother soon Inshallah (God Willing), and a child needs a healthy body to grow inside in!"
I reddened at her lecture. Mariam Auntie always had the same crazy ideas. We had agreed to wait a while before plunging into parenthood. I swear, everyone except Shehzer and me, was so interested in our future progeny. That's Pakistani families for you folks.
"Make sure you take some home-cooked meals with you, on your trip! I still think Shehzer should go with you." She clucks worriedly about my upcoming Mexico trip to Tijuana city. It's a school-trip for my photography class, and I am super excited about it. Shehzer was slightly reluctant to let me go, but he caved in because it was only for a couple of days. I knew most of the people going along with us, so it wasn't such a big deal anyways.
"We won't be together for our half-anniversary." Shehzer muttered quietly on the eve of my departure. My heart hurt at his sad tone. I climbed into our bed after my prayers, hugging his prone figure.
It took a while before he hugged me back. A muffled meow broke us apart. Simba had been quietly snuggled inside our duvet.
"Baby! What are you doing here?" I crooned to him, snatching him up to take him to his basket next door.
"Ruining our special time. That's what." Shehzer griped. I rolled my eyes at his moodiness. He was acting like a kid whose toy was being snatched from him. After tucking Simba in, I returned to my pouting husband.
"Okay grumpy pants. Spill. What's up with you? Since when do you get mad at my baby?" I demanded, pushing his hair away from his eyes. I have found that eyes are the single most expressive facial feature. You simply can't lie with them. Unless you're like a professional actor or something. His brown eyes look agitated. Upset.
"Nothing." He looked away, moving out of my hand's reach.
"Honey? Is it the trip?" I climb onto his lap to maintain eye-contact, "You should have said something earlier...I I would have canceled." I bit my lip worriedly, "I still can, you know..."
I love my career, and my school, but I love Shehzer more.
He sighs as he draws my arms through his neck, "It's not the trip love... My dad's remarrying." His eyes look desolate now, he is trying his best to hide his feelings about this.
I don't know what to say.
"How'd you find out?" I stroke his creased forehead in smooth lines.
"He called me, Mina. After 5 years of zero contact, he wants me to be at his wedding. The fu-" He stops himself from cursing his own father, breathing evenly to control his temper.
"Maybe he's missing you?" I add timidly. Even though I'm sure the guy has ulterior motives for this invite.
"And I'm Barack Obama." Shehzer snorted derisively, "He only did it because his fiancee is forcing him to reconnect with his kids." His jaw tightens with anger.
"What did you say to him?" I don't like seeing him like this.
"Told him to go screw himself, basically. In less polite words." He grunted, "He thinks he can waltz back into my life, without acknowledging Rania, and I'll become his son again. It's too little, too late now."
"Shehzer, I'll be on your side no matter what you choose. If you think you need to g-" My words were cut off by his insistent mouth on mine. His hands slipped into my curls, holding me hostage for him. He was almost rough with his want.
"I need you." He growled, briefly lifting his lips. "Please."
He wasn't gentle, or sweet, but I knew his need to forget, his pain. I went through a similar need for oblivion once. So I simply gave him what he asked for.
It scared me though. How much his past still had an effect on him.
.......
"Mina! You have to try these enchiladas!" My group members, Gina and Pedro direct me towards the vendors on a busy Mexican street. It was a fragrant bustle of food hawkers, wandering sobrero-sporting musicians, and busy shoppers.
I feel ravenous suddenly. I had hardly had time for a sandwich during our full day photography excursion. Our teacher, Ms. Sanchez was this super fun, spanish photographer who had traveled to 35 countries with her backpack, and a BMX. Her language proficiency came in handy over here, as a couple of my classmates got in trouble with a rogue police guy. She fast-talked her way out of the embassy. The rest of the trip was a learning experience.
The foodie in me gravitated towards the culinary aspect of this eclectic country. I have always been a mexican fan, but my experience has been limited to Tacos, Nachos, and Burritos, because Karachi has only one authentic mexican food place.
I spent hours hunting for images of vendors creating their spicy treats. The ingredients were so colorful! I swear mexico is the chilli capital of the world! They use it in every shape, size and color. I saw one nearly the size of a human head! I also learned un-pronouncible food names; quesadillas, cabreros, huaraches, flautas, etc. and what they actually looked like. It was way past my time to eat, but it was hard communicating my Halal food limitations in espanol. I tried contacting my teacher, but she was busy yelling at a guy who had tried feeling her up during a line dance. I learned quite a number of spanish cuss words in just a few short hours. My favorite was pandejo.
I kept texting Shehzer throughout the day, and sending selfies so he wouldn't feel left out. He replied in short, sporadic texts, which I chalked up to his busy schedule.
"Here Mina! Try these green ones. I made sure this is vegetarian. You can't eat pork right?" Gina handed me a tempting plate wafting with rich spicy aromas. I nodded eagerly. I adored mexican tastes. I had barely taken a couple bites when it hit me. Something was off about this. I chewed slowly, trying not to think about it.
"Gina. I can't eat this. Maybe my palette isn't as adventurous as I thought. I-uh-I feel kinda weird about it."
Gina took the plate back, sniffing it suspiciously, "I told them not to add meat, or alcohol. I'll have a word with the stall guy. Pedro already ordered some Churros from that asshole."
I saw her stomp back to the stall in a huff, camera bag banging against her sides, long blonde hair swinging wildly. "Oi, Pandejo. You give us bad food amigo! It was el-disgusto!..."
"la comida era perfecto! Que IDIOTA!" He yelled back at her, mustache flaring.
"Yeah, yeah, you a perfecto idiota too amigo!" She yanked Pedro away from the churro table. I wanted to laugh at her use of spanish; she basically used every single word she knew; but my tummy lurched at the possibility of opening my mouth. Even the faraway smells seemed too pungent all of a sudden.
I sat down at a nearby bench, trying to breath without puking. Gina and Pedro returned after a few minutes, carrying brown paper bags with them.
"Mina? You feel okay? We got some cheese tacos for you instead. I personally made sure they didn't add anything weird in..." Pedro waved the open bag under my nose.
That did it.
The smell!
I clamped my hands over my mouth as I pushed past them, emptying my stomach in a nearby trashcan.
......
"You sure you don't want to fly back earlier sweetie?" Ms. Sanchez peers worriedly at me as we wait in the hospital waiting room together. I had nearly fainted after my vomiting spell, probably because I had hardly eaten anything the whole day.
My group members had insisted that I get medication for my food poisoning. Oddly enough, I felt marginally better once I was back in my hotel room. The OJ, and cream soup Ms. Sanchez pressed on me also helped. She was like a mother hen, clucking worriedly over me, making sure I wasn't fainting anymore.
"No. I want to stay! This is an amazing experience for me." I smiled back weakly. I hated throwing up.
I protested throughout the medical exam, and multiple blood and urine tests they had stuck me through, but to no avail. Finally the middle-aged female doctor ushered me inside her tiny office.
She asked sharp, rapid-fire questions to Ms. Sanchez, who replied back after translating it for me.
"Are you on the pill?" She asked me.
I was flustered by the question, but I nodded. "Since a few years. I have had trouble with my normal cycle, and my doctor thought it was best."
She smirked at me, and shook her head, muttering softly now. I gave Ms. Sanchez a confused glance.
"Did I catch a bug or something?"
"Si, Senora." The doctor grinned widely at me now.
"Uhh, Meena, honey, she says you have a parasite in your tummy." Ms. Sanchez is also grinning at me. I turned pale at the idea. I swear, I recited the kalma in my mind, at that moment.
"Umm, how big is it?" I tried not to bawl my eyes out. I was alone in another country, diagnosed with a parasite! I wanted Shehzer with me, right at that moment.
"About as big as your thumb we reckon. It will be attached to your body for nine months, feeding off of your energy." I am upset at how gleeful they both seem to be.
"So, uh, how can I get rid of it? Do you have shots for it? Or pills? I prefer pills myself yo-"
"Meena! Querida, you are expecting!" Ms. Sanchez laughs at my stunned expression, "The parasite is a baby, ofcourse! Don't tell me you want to get rid of it?"
A baby?
I'm going to be a mom!
A/N:
Hola, amigos!
As you might have realized, I'm opting to extend this novel. The story won't be dragged hopefully!
Fact of the matter is, we're just not done yet.
Also, the spanish is googled, so excuse me for any mistakes.
Thank you for the precious votes and comments, and support!
Keep on being awesome!