Rishta Diaries - Candidate Two, Part Six

'Ready?’

I take a deep breath. I look at this man, my fiancé. I look away.

Am I ready?

No, I’m scared. I have no idea what awaits me there. I don’t have any family and no close friends, however, I’ve made a commitment and I’m a woman of my word.

‘Yes, I’m ready.’

Mummi steps up and gives me a hug. Her words of caution, said in a language that’s suppose to be my mother tongue, is a language that neither Farid nor Imran can understand.

Both stand silently by as I say goodbye to my family.

Mummi’s talking. I watch her mouth. I hear what she’s saying, however, I’m not listening. She’s saying things which should calm me, give me solace, but which only makes me question how much she really loves me.

Why isn’t she coming with me? Why must I go to a foreign country without her. My eyes fill, my nose becomes blocked, but I embrace her a final time and turn to dad.

A hug, his scent envelops me, it’s warm and yet doesn’t offer any of the normal reassurance that’s to be had. He let’s go and the coldness envelops me once more.

He grabs both my hands and gives me a series of Du’a. I bend my head and say Ameen to each Du’a. And yet, I look at him again. I pour over his face, breath in his scent again. I see the lines that age have etched into his features.

Nothing, other than the thought, why? Why must I take this journey by myself?

I step back. I look up. I see the banister. Poking out between the rungs is my fur-ball. I smile, her tail wags faster. I blink, she whines. I look at my sister and ask her to watch over my baby.

I turn around.

‘Bismillah.’

I step out of the house and walk silently to the car.

Imran opens the door. I sit in the back seat. From my side of the window, I see the home which I moved into at the age of 15. I left it once, at the age of 22. Today, I’m leaving, again. I look down at my finger; it’s still there, that colorless 3-carat diamond. Encased in a platinum setting, it winks back at me. Even in this, an inanimate object seems to be attempting to reassure me.

So, why do I feel as if I’m in a dream. A surreal experience which has me in the company of a man, who 3 days ago, I didn’t know would be my future life-partner.

‘If you’d known this was how life would play out, forget the toe, the body should have been under your tires!’

I look back startled. My vision encounters him. His attention is occupied with papers in his hand. He looks up and smiles, his eyes are questioning. I look away and my attention is recaptured by my childhood home.

We’re pulling away. The door is closed. My families already said their goodbyes and walked away. I’m left adrift, hurtling towards something that I’m not sure I have the coping mechanisms to deal with.

I feel alone, anchorless and slowly sinking.

I close my eyes and say my Salwaat, ‘La illah illa Allah Mohamed Rasool Allah’

I repeat my Qalma again and again until I’m back in control.

The door opens. The rush of air hits me and I realize it is time to say goodbye to my home, my base, my country.

Fully…finally…for the last time.

I feel a hand on the middle of my back. I know it’s him. My senses are invaded by his smell. His arm is warm on the middle of my back. I hear his deep clearly enunciated words. My body involuntarily shivers. It responds to him instinctually.

‘We’re ready to board. Come, let’s go take our seats.’

I look back and up. Into his face. His eyes look back at me steadily. Ever the man in charge, he asserts his command by the lightest of pressure. My legs involuntarily move forward.

As I take my seat, he sits down beside me. I sit there staring at nothing in particular.

‘You all right?’

I look at him. I blink. He smiles. His left hand covers my right hand. I realize I’ve been gripping the hand rest and my fingers ease up. His hand slowly eases my fingers into his.

My breath catches. This is too close for comfort. He doesn’t have a right to be so unfamiliar with me. I see a glimmer, a wink. It’s his ring, the one which decorates my third finger on the hand now entwined within his.

My gaze is riveted. I look at his hand. Again, I’m amazed by the blond hair.

‘We’ll be home before you know it. Relax, read, take a kip. The flight will end before you’ve fully settled in. If you need anything just ask.’

I look at his mouth. The lips moving, The perfectly aligned teeth peaking through. I hear the reverberation of his voice throughout my arm. It travels up and settles around my heart. I lean back, close my eyes and will myself to fall asleep.

‘Gulzar, we’re home.’

I inhale. It’s him. He’s even invaded my dreams. I open my eyes. His eyes look back, patient. I look back. His face breaks into a smile. I realize I’ve slept through the entire journey.

‘Would you like to freshen up?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Ok, we’ll visit the loo on the way to the luggage.’

‘Thank you.’

As we disembark, I catch snippets of conversations. Life teems with bodies, voices, lives busy and advancing. Yet, I feel as if I’m in a Monday night football playback. The commentator remarking on individual issues as they occur.

Again his fingers are on my lower back. I follow for my body already recognizes him as the leader.

As we await the driver to retrieve our bags, I look around me. Eyes seem to surround us. They all seem to know that I’m an outsider. Someone who simply does not belong. I inch closer to him, hoping to find the reassurance I so desperately need.

‘Gulzar, I must be off.’

I look up, confused. ‘What?’

‘I’ve got to make a dash if I want to catch the Cairo connection.’

‘I thought we were going to Debden.’

‘No, you’ll be going to my family home in Debden. I’ve got an unscheduled meeting in Cairo I need to attend.’

My eyes widen.

‘Don’t fret, Kamran, here will escort you home. I’ll be back before you’re fully settled in.’ He kisses me on the forehead, turns and walks away.

I’m left at a complete loss. Alone in a foreign country, I stand at the baggage terminal, staring after a man who was my only connection to a sense of security that was at best tenuous.