Page 17 of First Comes Marriage
To be fair, it wouldn’t be all that difficult because she and Zafar didn’t share an openly affectionate relationship anyway. The most they did was talk in front of others and never more than a handful of sentences. Gestures like hand holding, kissing, small affectionate touches here and there weren’t for them and if the thought brought with it a fresh pang of pain, then she resolutely ignored it, shovelling another forkful of eggs into her mouth instead.
She wasn’t going to sit there and wallow over what she didn’t have … had never had. She was here to celebrate her cousin finding and marrying the love of her life and Reshma was happy for her. Just because she didn’t believe she would ever find that for herself – especially after yesterday – it didn’t mean she didn’t believe in it for others or wasn’t happy for them. She was going to celebrate every single moment she could with Saleema because she wanted the best for her. She had a chance to spend time with her family and she was going to make the most of it, starting now.
‘I’m going to get changed and head to Auntie Bilqis’ villa and see what they’re all up to. Would you like to come, Daadi?’
‘No, thank you, sweetheart. I think I’m going to rest this morning.’ Daadi cast a concerned glance betweenher and Zafar but carried on speaking. ‘I’m catching up with a few of my friends later for tea, but you carry on. Have fun.’
‘Which friends are you meeting up with?’ Zafar asked his grandmother over the rim of his coffee cup.
‘Well,Dad, I’m meeting Imtiaz’s mother and her cousin may be joining us. There might be some boys there too.’ Daadi winked at her and Reshma couldn’t help but laugh at her antics. She knew exactly how to push her grandsons’ buttons and sometimes she showed them no mercy. She took it in turns to tease all of them.
Zafar rolled his eyes, but she saw him smiling behind his coffee cup.
Reshma got up and after clearing away the debris from breakfast – because apparently Zafar needed double the utensils anyone else did to make breakfast for half the number of people – she made her way to her aunt’s villa.
Uncle Jawad opened the door to her and beamed when he saw her. ‘My morning just got better. How are you, pet? Slept well?’
Reshma nodded as she hugged him, circling her arms around his barrel-like torso and resting her head against his shoulder. She took a deep breath of his shower gel and the residue of engine oil which never seemed to leave him. Either that or she could conjure up the comforting scent from her childhood and his days spent in his garage, feeling a sense of peace fill her like nothing else could.
Uncle Jawad squeezed her back before bellowing loud enough that Reshma felt her eardrums vibrate. ‘Bilqis. Reshma’s here.’
Reshma eased away from her uncle and went towards the sofa, slipping her sandals off and easing onto it, pulling her legs up under her.
Her aunt came along the corridor that presumably led to her bedroom. ‘It’s lucky your voice is as loud as it is, Jawad. At least now the rest of Mombasa knows that Reshma is here and that someone by the name of Bilqis needed that information.’
Reshma laughed at her aunt’s words as her uncle scowled at them playfully, mumbling under his breath.
Auntie Bilqis smirked at her before bending towards her and kissing the top of Reshma’s head. ‘I’m glad you’re here, darling. Come to my room with me. I’m sorting through some clothes and you and Niya need to choose which suits you want. Since you’re up and here first, you get first pick. It’ll teach Niya for sleeping in so late.’
‘Yay.’ Reshma felt some of the gloom lift off her by just being around her uncle and aunt. She followed Bilqis into the room and saw that she had indeed laid out a huge selection of clothes on the bed, along with boxes of what Reshma knew were sets of jewellery, some of which were heirlooms and had belonged to previous generations on both sides of the family.
She went straight for a midnight-blue outfit with rich gold and pops of pink embroidery on it. The design was simple but the colour was statement enough.
‘Perfect. I was hoping you’d choose that one. It’ll look marvellous on you, especially with this jewellery set.’ Auntie Bilqis opened a box to reveal a gold and sapphire set. There was a necklace, studded with sapphires and diamonds, and matching earrings. There was a ring with some adjusters attached to it and a maang tikka – a large pendant on a single chain which sat in the centre parting of the hair attached with plenty of hairpins so the pendant rested on the forehead. A magnificent and regal-looking piece of jewellery. ‘This was my grandmother’s. My mother woreit and when I married Jawad, she gave it to me. I want you to wear it when you wear this suit.’
Astonished, Reshma looked at her aunt. Surely, as Auntie Bilqis’ daughter, Haniya should rightfully get that set? It had belonged to her great-grandmother and had been passed down through the generations. Reshma wasn’t a part of that lineage.
‘I know exactly what’s going through your head, young lady, and if you utter a single word of refusal, I’ll have to think up an adult equivalent of the naughty corner for you.’
Reshma smiled and unable to stop tears from filling her eyes and spilling over, she crossed over to her aunt and held her close, allowing Auntie Bilqis to smooth her hand across her back, the action soothing away some of the edginess she’d woken up feeling. She took comfort in the arms of the woman who had stepped in and mothered her like Reshma was her own.
Uncle Jawad and Auntie Bilqis had more generosity in them than Reshma could ever fathom and whenever she was on the receiving end of it, she felt both loved and humbled by it.
Auntie Bilqis eased away and brushed her hands across Reshma’s cheeks. ‘Just because I didn’t give birth to you, it doesn’t mean that you’re not my daughter. You are, in every other sense of the word. Don’t ever think you’re not, no matter what anyone else says. In fact, you’re lucky in that you’ve had two mums. Hafsa, may God bless her soul, and me. Though I’m sure Ruqayyah will try to wriggle her way into the count too.’ She wrinkled her nose and Reshma gave a watery laugh on cue.
She really was lucky and that’s what she needed to focus on and remember. There were all these people around her who loved her without any reservations orexpectations. They loved her unconditionally. After her mother’s death – and some shunting around thanks to her feckless father – her uncle and aunt had stepped up and Auntie Bilqis had taken over her care just as a mother would. While raising Reshma along with her own children, she had never – ever – differentiated between them and if anyone had tried to, she’d been ferocious in her defence of Reshma, including against Reshma’s own paternal grandmother, who would often say it wasn’t Bilqis’ job to raise Reshma, it was her father’s job, but for Auntie Bilqis, many a time, it was a case of in through one ear and out through the other.
Reshma had so much to be grateful for. She didn’t need to dwell on what she didn’t have with Zafar when she could be around all this love.Thisbrand of love she could trust. It wouldn’t let her down. It was time to focus on this and take that other type of love and lock it away in the deep recesses of her heart, never to be visited again.
She stayed with her aunt, going through more suits, putting aside what Auntie Bilqis was considering wearing herself for the various upcoming events and some she wanted to give as gifts to Auntie Ruqayyah, Saleema and a few others. She had another outfit each for her and Haniya, who joined them half an hour later, still in her pyjamas, clutching a big mug of tea.
When the three of them finally left the room and went to the living area, Reshma stopped in her tracks. Zafar was sitting there with Uncle Jawad and Shoaib.
Shoaib had his attention half on his phone and half on the TV, while Zafar was sitting opposite Uncle Jawad playing some card game. He looked up as she followed after Auntie Bilqis and Haniya and as she lowered her eyebrows in confusion, he winked at her.
Reshma’s eyes widened and she blinked them, probably looking like someone who’d just had their photograph taken with the world’s strongest flash.
Zafar grinned at her before turning his attention back to his hand while Uncle Jawad scratched his head. ‘I think I’ve got you again, son. Good thing we’re not playing for money. Bilqis would have my hide for cleaning you out. You’re married to our girl after all, need to think of her. Though she’s more than capable of taking care of you.’ His chuckle reverberated throughout the villa.
