Page 13 of First Comes Marriage
A collectiveawwhad both her and Zafar looking to her right, where she saw a cousin from Saleema’s dad’s side of the family with his wife. They were sitting with a small group of guests, who chuckled as the couple blushed.
Reshma suppressed the pang in her chest and instead scoffed, loud enough for Zafar to look away from the happy couple and back at her. ‘That’s what being in sync looks like, Zafar. Not this.’ She waved her hand between them, and after a fraught pause, she moved away from him again, though this time he didn’t stop her and she was glad. She didn’t want to lose the little control she had on her cool and for there to be a falling-out. She went into the villa, not bothering to look back at where Zafar was or what he was doing. She was going to avoid him as much as she could and for as long as she could. At least until she could put her thoughts into some semblance of order and figure out what she was going to do. Only then would she be able to work out how to move forward.
Later that night, after she’d got into her comfiest pyjamas, Reshma grabbed her e-reader and sat on the sofa in the bedroom, hoping to immerse herself in a fantasy world because reality wasn’t worth her time right now, only to get up five minutes later in restlessness. She opened the patio door and stood leaning against the frame. She could smell the salt on the ocean breeze and hear the soft lull of the waves in the distance.
Today had, without a doubt, been one of the harder days of her adult life. She’d managed to avoid Zafar for the better part of the day and sensing that she wasn’t in the mood to engage with him, he’d kept his distance from her. It had been easier after their late lunch because the guys had naturally gravitated towards sitting together outside and the women had gone into the villa to relax and socialise where it was cooler.
Food and drink had been free-flowing well into the evening and by the time everyone was ready to say good night, the mood was comfortable and mellow. A vast contrast to how Reshma had been feeling.
When she’d seen Daadi stifle another yawn, she’d seized the opportunity to make her escape with her and they’d left Zafar sitting with her uncles and cousins as she and Daadi went back to their villa. He’d made a move to join them but Uncle Jawad had urged him to stay.
Daadi was settled and Reshma had taken the opportunity to have a long soak in the massive claw-foot bathtub, bubbles and all, to try to ease the tension she’d felt thrumming through her body since she’d overheard that conversation that morning. They did say that no good came of eavesdropping, though that was not strictly what she’d been doing.
She hadn’t come to any grand conclusion since then, but what she had decided was that she was done with pretending everything was OK between her and Zafar – at least between themselves. If she was brutally honest, their relationship had been stagnant since soon after they’d got married. So, there was no point in her just smiling or making small talk or trying her best with him, waiting for him to respond. Waiting for him toseeher. She was going to stop pretending that they were in a good place and shehad all the patience in the world to wait for things to be how she’d dreamt they would be, in all her naivety. She’d had enough lessons in life to tell her that things rarely worked out like they did in fairy tales, books or films. It was all make-believe.
She rested her head against the frame, closing her eyes as she turned so her back was resting against it too.
Thoughts and memories that had been hidden in the deep recesses of her mind had surfaced today after she’d discovered Zafar’s real reason for coming. Some of those memories were so old, that when they’d resurfaced, they’d felt alien, until she’d realised that they were her own. Like the memory of her mother’s parents being so full of grief for their lost daughter that they had little to no affection for their granddaughter. Or when she’d learnt that her father had found someone and was planning to get married. She’d thought he might finally be ready for the responsibility of a daughter with his new wife, though she’d been torn between wanting that acceptance and leaving Uncle Jawad and his family, who had embraced her as their own. Of course, nothing had come of that. Her father’s new wife hadn’t wanted the responsibility of a twelve-year-old girl and neither had he, which was rich because they’d gone on to have three children.
A soft click had her opening her eyes and she found Zafar standing beside the closed bedroom door, his hand on the doorknob.
He looked at her, his expression inscrutable, and Reshma turned the other way as she swiped at her cheeks, brushing away the errant tears that had fallen.
Thankfully, he didn’t seem to have seen them.
‘Hey.’ He stepped further into the room, his hands in his pockets.
‘Hey.’ She responded over her shoulder and then turned to look out the patio door, not that she could see much in the dark. The sliver of moon that was supposed to be in the sky seemed to have taken cover under the clouds and she couldn’t see any stars. It was kind of poetic how it reflected her mood.
‘Can we talk?’ He sounded closer, but she didn’t turn and look his way.
‘There’s nothing to say, Zafar.’ Her voice sounded heavy to her own ears.
She heard him sigh before he spoke. ‘We didn’t manage to talk this morning and you didn’t want to talk in the garden this afternoon and I didn’t push, but I don’t want to leave things like this.’
She turned to face him at that, finding him standing a metre away from her. His brow was furrowed and lines bracketed his mouth.
‘What is there to say? I told you, you don’t have to stay, feel free to go back to London.’ She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She moved past him to make her way towards the bed when he stopped her with a warm hand on her arm.
‘I’m not going back to London, Reshma.’ He said the words so vehemently, she was tempted to believe him. But she was done with being gullible.
‘Why not?’ She pulled her hand away and faced him. ‘It makes sense for you to. You don’t want to be here and I’m telling you that you don’t need to hang around on my account, so what’s the issue? Or is it the fact that you’ll disappoint your dad by going home early without me?’
‘It’s nothing of the sort, Reshma.’ There was a lace of annoyance in his words as he said them through gritted teeth, before shaking his head as he looked down. Helooked tired and deflated, something she’d not seen before. But then she’d always seen Zafar in his element, being his brilliant self all the time, as though failure was a foreign concept to him. ‘I was wrong. When you first asked me to come here for the wedding, I should have agreed and I’m sorry that I didn’t.’ He broke eye contact and looked towards the ground again, as though gathering his thoughts or finding the words to articulate them. ‘I’ve been a failure as a husband, I’m well aware of that. I’ve not given you or our marriage the time or attention I should have, but I want … I want things to be different.’
She was shocked at his open admission of his failure, but not enough to not respond to him. She couldn’t let his contrition in that moment cover up the chasm that had always been there and he’d never tried to bridge, despite her efforts on that front.
Reshma clicked her fingers. ‘Just like that? And I should just fall into line with that new-found wish of yours? You know, Zafar, it’s not just about you being here or the fact that your dad told you to come. It’s more than that. I’m not blind or deaf or slow on the uptake. Our relationship has never really taken off, so I can’t even say that it’s deteriorated. You’ve never been interested in me or being with me or getting to know me. I’m wondering why you ever agreed to marry me in the first place.’
His mouth parted as he stared at her, unblinking, for a moment. ‘I wasn’t forced, if that’s what you’re insinuating. I had the freedom to accept or not accept the match with you and I chose to accept it. Ichoseto marry you.’
‘And is this what you envisaged married life to be?’ Because she certainly hadn’t. ‘I don’t expect declarations of undying love from you. I don’t expect you to devote yourself to me and forget everything and everyone aroundyou, but I do expect some semblance of a relationship beyond material comforts, Zafar. I expected a connection. Honesty. I don’t put a great deal of stock in love from others. God knows, it’s not come my way from the people who you’d expect to offer it unconditionally.’ Reshma ignored the shaft of pain she felt in the region of her heart at her own words. She wasn’t unfamiliar with love and affection, she’d received it in abundance from her uncles, aunts and cousins. But the kind of love one got from parents or grandparents was something she’d never had.
And then she’d seen Zafar, and while she wouldn’t go as far as saying it was love at first sight for her, she had developed strong feelings towards him and what he represented. What they could become to each other. She’d been a fool. Her mother had gone down that destructive path and where had that led her?
Maybe this was a blessing. A way for her to stop and realise where she was headed before it was too late.
There was confusion on Zafar’s face, along with a spark of interest lighting his eyes. She didn’t want to go into her family history, so she steered the conversation back to the point it had started at while she still had the wherewithal to do so. ‘The fact of the matter is that we don’t have a relationship, Zafar. We’ve been married for thirteen months and in all that time, we’ve barely spent a weekend in just each other’s company. You’re a devoted grandson, son and brother and that’s praiseworthy. Your work ethic is admirable. But that’s all there is to your life. There’s no place for a wife, let alone more of a family. I don’t even know what sort of future you see for yourself and, if I’m honest, I’m beginning to lose sight of my own.’
