Page 29 of Good As Hell

Chapter Ten

NIKAH

LYRIC

“You look absolutely beautiful,” Flower whispers behind me.

“Hell yeah she does.” Coming to stand beside me, Fi looks at me with love shining in her eyes. Love that is clouded by worry, frustration, and anger.

We’re so close I know her feelings are only reflecting mine. Worry about what the future holds and anger at how I’ve allowed this motherfucker to snatch my life from me like it was nothing. Frustration and feeling powerless to stop it. Like I haven’t worked my ass off for over a decade to get the top of the game.

Now, poof, just like it was all a fever dream. My life is gone. In the three weeks since the wedding announcement, my life has been a flurry of activity. I haven’t had a chance to fully digest my new circumstances. This whole situation givesThe Shock Doctrinea run for its money.

Now, we are here on the day of the wedding and I’m still processing. Between the daily tutors, lawyers, and designers, along with meeting with US emissaries watched over closely byHassan’s staff. I’ve had no time for myself other than what I’ve carved out for Ayaan. And silent sentinels oversee even that, as if I would do harm to my child.

More likely, they stand guard to make sure I don’t run away. As if that’s an option. In the short time I’ve been here, I’ve witnessed the depth and breath of my soon to be husband’s power just from the obsequiousness of the American envoys. They all but blame me for the current situation as if I landed in this airspace on my own.

I’ve talked to none of my friends or my sisters in the weeks preceding this extravaganza. I don’t even allow myself to think of Hassan. Following that disastrous dinner with my family when he held me all night, I awoke alone and haven’t seen him since.

Despite having long ago come to terms with my abortion and being proud of myself for choosing me, some needy part of me wanted to talk to him about it. No dice. He’s been gone and not available to me at all. I know it’s deliberate. There have been days when I came to see Ayaan and knew without inquiring that he’d just left by the smell of tobacco flower, vetiver and parchment still lingering in the air. If he wanted to see me, he could have. He just chose not to.

I told myself not to be bothered by it. He showed me kindness that night and that was all I could hope for. I admonished myself for even allowing myself to think it meant he saw me as a person rather than a slag.

Now, I realize the story — no matter how much he knows about it, only confirms what he thought. I never gave a fuck what anyone ever thought of me. I just never thought the person — my person who I’d joined my life with would feel this way. Now faced with the possibility of being with him, the rest of my life is literally making me sick to my stomach.

“Come sit so we can fit you with the tiara and the veil.” Lovie-Belle coos, bubbling with excitement, patting the plushseat situated center of the sitting area of the dressing room that’s filled with refreshments. It could be a spa day for all the pampering the palace staff has done for me and my bridal party.

Turning to look at the faces of my sisters I can’t hide my smile. “Fairytale princess ain’t got nothing on you big sis,” Kadence beams over to me.

“It takes one to know one.” I wink at her taking my seat allowing the billowing layers of silk taffeta to trap around me like a billowing cloud.

Taking in everyone who showed up for me, Kadence, Song and Harmony all look like angels swathed in lilac halos with my favorite color edging the beautiful modest creations that Summer along with a team of seamstresses Hassan employed worked day and night to have ready in time for today.

The wedding celebrations last seven days as tradition here, but today is the day of the official marriage. Technically, we are already married. That happened when all the contracts were signed during the Nikah-Nama, and Hassan made my mother and step-father wealthier beyond all their wildest dreams, giving them a bride price of fifty million.

The figure is obscene, but Aliah quickly let me know that Khadijah’s was three times that amount and anything less would have tarnished Ayaan. Further researching the customs let me know the higher the bride price, the more elite and valued the bride. I guess I could have demanded more, but thinking that going to Rob was anathema to me. I only hope that in some way my sisters see some of that money, though I doubt it. He’ probably lose it in some scheme in less than a year and probably come out owing some gangster more money.

“You all look beautiful.” Come mother’s quiet tone. I smile her way for company’s sake. I’ve seen this side of her before. It’s always when he’s not around that she softens to the person who loves me best. I don’t know if it’s for the sake of keepingthe peace or the fear of being impoverished like we were before he came along that makes her change when he’s around. She’s a person who wraps herself in religion but not the love of God. I’ve long since stopped trying to figure it out. I hope one day she can heal and find peace.

“Thank you, mommy.” I say, using the word I only use when we are alone. She blossoms under my gaze and the soft gazes of my sisters.

“Okay, well, let’s get this thing on. This tiara is old with real jewels. You’ll probably need to take some ibuprofen to stave off a migraine,” Fi mutters, adjusting the crown on the upswept curls she’s piled on my head to cushion the priceless piece. The added pieces of hair she put in place make the weight barely noticeable, but I know as the day wears on, she’s probably right. When the queen brought it to me to borrow for the ceremony, she beamed, taking it out of its secured box. “The last queen of African American descent wore this crown on her wedding. Her name was Antonia.”

“Okay, stand up, so we can get the whole look.” Whispering down to me, she steps back to give me room.

Standing, I give a little turn, tilting my head this way and that to make sure it’s secure.

“Mommy,” the voice of my son reaches me before he bounds around the corner of the room, rushing straight for me.

Bending, I reach for him just as he plows into my legs. Sweeping him up, I kiss his rosy cheeks.

“Hey, my big man.” Beaming at him, I look on to the attendants following him. He’s gotten used to being surrounded by others. Them being women who cater to his every need is one reason, and then he knows his father and I are never too far away.

Walking out of the room, I see them place the elaborately decorated amira — a covered throne like chair on the ground.Four male attendants stand silently by as I get in with Ayaan snuggling in beside me.

A retinue of guards follow us and women from Hassan’s extended family singing traditional wedding songs, leading us all the way to the grand hall where the celebration seems to be already underway.

Hassan insisted on a traditional Moroccan wedding and that it be aired live on television so the world could see him claim me and his son in the most public way possible.

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