A delivery man stood on the front porch with a pen in one hand and a long rectangular package tucked under his arm. "Can you sign for this?" he asked, handing me the electronic device.
"Who is the package for?" I asked, making sure he was at the right house. We received our neighbours' mail often because our address started with 678 and theirs with 687. I didn't blame the postal companies for mixing things up but it was kind of a hassle when I had to walk across the street and exchange letters and boxes with them all the time. I would much rather to take an extra steps to make sure the deliveries were for us if I was able to talk with the postman.
"Arisa Hoffman."
"Oh. Yes. That's me." I signed off for the package then took it from his hand. "Thank you."
"Have a good day," the delivery man said, stepping off the porch and heading for the front gate.
I closed the door and checked the return address. I wasn't familiar with it at all. There was no name attached to it either. My curiosity spiked as I carried the box up to my bedroom. Mom was doing laundry in the basement so I didn't want to bother her with an announcement. It wasn't like this was my first time getting something in the mail; my dad often sent us souvenirs and I-miss-you gifts from overseas.
I placed the package on my unmade bed and began to unwrap it. I was stunned by what was inside; two gorgeous sets of traditional Pakistani outfits. One was navy and gold while the other was a combination of yellow and purple flowers. A square card rested on top of each set to let me know which dress was for the wedding and which one was for the reception. On the bottom of each card, it read: Kumar insisted <3
Colour flushed across my face and I smiled.
Having to attend two weddings back-to-back was a little intimidating but it was too late to back down. Since accepting Khaleel's invitation, I was determined to learn as much as I could about Pakistani cultures and traditions. Khaleel explained it to the best of his abilities. He said weddings in Pakistan took almost a week to get through. I thought he was exaggerating but then he started listing the different events and I figured maybe not.
There was going to be the Mehendi, the Nikah, the Shaddi and the Walima. I only had to show up to the last two events. Shaddi was another term for 'wedding' and it was when the bride's family officially gave the daughter away. Apparently a lot of crying happened on this night. The groom's family was responsible for organizing the reception on the following day, which was known as the Walima. It was supposed to be a happier occasion that celebrated the couple's union.
"How do I even put these on?" I wondered, carefully taking out the navy and gold set. It was a three-piece outfit that came with a high-waisted skirt, a short-sleeved crop-top with beautiful embroidery, and a shawl. The second item was also a three-piece set but it was a pant-suit rather than a dress. The bottoms resembled leggings, the top was long-sleeved and flowy, and the shawl was sheer and light.
"Arisa."
I turned to find mom standing in the door frame. "I'm going to grab a pizza for dinner, are you alright with--" she stopped mid-sentence when she saw the colourful outfits. "What is all this?"
"Khaleel sent them to me for his dad's wedding."
Mom walked in to take a closer look at the pieces. Her eyes lit up as one would expected and she marvelled at the impressive fabric and the gold detailing on the first dress. "Who paid for all this?" she asked, checking the tag for a price.
"According to Khaleel, Kumar insisted."
"They look expensive," Mom reasoned, when her search failed. The sets had tags but they only listed the name of the shop, Chand & Sitare, the sizing, and the washing instructions.
I nodded.
"Have you thought about what to get the newly weds?" Mom continued. "Is there anything on their wedding registry?"
"No wedding registry."
"No wedding registry?"
I shook my head.
"Strange," she replied, pulling out the second set and feeling the texture of the fabric. "This is absolutely stunning! Do you have shoes to match? What about jewelry? Maybe we should pick some up."
I groaned. "Can't I just borrow something from your closet? You know how I feel about shopping."
Mom gave into my complaints a lot quicker than I expected her to. "Yes, fine. Now, where is this wedding taking place?"
"At a banquet hall in Killian."
Mom crossed her arms. "That's at the other end of the city. Are you getting a ride there?"
"I believe so. Khaleel told me last week that Kumar was going to take us."
Mom nodded. She hadn't met Kumar yet but I could tell she was waiting for an introduction to be made. I couldn't blame her curiosity, considering how much time I spent texting Khaleel over the summer. I was confident that mom and Kumar would get along fine, as long as the conversation didn't steer to his day-job. For someone I never wanted to meet again, Kumar had grown on me. He was kind, considerate and an excellent host. Anytime Khaleel invited me over for dinner, Kumar showered me with attention and food.
"Time is flying by so quickly," Mom said, holding the second outfit to see how it would fit my body. "My little girl will be attending college soon."
"College? Mom, let me get through grade eleven first."