Marrying Ameera Page 4

  ‘Fine, and you?’

  Samuel smirked at Tariq’s manners. ‘You playing soccer with us next season, mate?’

  ‘Sure thing.’

  Samuel glanced at me but Tariq didn’t introduce me. ‘You holding out on me, mate? Who’s your girlfriend?’

  I nearly choked. There was an awkward pause while Tariq worked out what to say. In Pakistan, no one would ever ask a man the name of the woman with him. It’s such bad manners; and in tribal areas a man could be killed for it. But Samuel had no idea.

  ‘This is Ameera,’ Tariq said grudgingly.

  Samuel winked at me.

  I glanced away and caught sight of a guy near the karaoke machine. He looked like Ibram, one of Raniya’s brothers, though I couldn’t be sure as I hadn’t seen him since I started Year 11. He was looking at me with scorn and all of a sudden I felt naked. I had my dupatta around my neck, the way it was worn in Pakistani cities, rather than over my hair. The guy glanced from Tariq to me and then to Samuel and my shame turned to dread. The tumbling feeling in my stomach wouldn’t subside, even when Samuel sauntered off.

  I said I wanted a drink and dragged Maryam with us to the veranda. Fortunately she understood. She knew Papa would not like me walking alone with Tariq.

  I was too shocked to tell Maryam about Raniya’s brother. Nor did I want to draw her attention to the fact that Tariq had been talking to me. I simply stayed close to her, marking time until we could leave.

  Brian and Natasha joined us and Brian handed Tariq a beer. He drank a mouthful, then caught me staring at him and put the beer down. Why did that disturb me? Riaz drank; and Maryam had told me that her family could drink in moderation if they didn’t offend anybody. I turned my attention to Brian instead. He was discussing a movie he’d seen about terrorism in Africa and wanted to know our views on it. Maryam and I rolled our eyes at each other. We’d got those comments at school too. Just because our parents were Pakistani we were supposed to know everything about terrorism.

  Tariq said, ‘Some terrorists may be fighting for political reasons and think of themselves as militants or freedom fighters. Governments need to find out why they’re doing it.’

  ‘But you do think terrorism is bad?’ Brian said. ‘I mean, violence doesn’t help.’ He said it as though we needed to be convinced.

  We all stared at him, and Natasha belted him on the arm.

  ‘It depends which side you’re on as to who the terrorists are,’ I said.

  Brian frowned at that and Tariq cut in. ‘In the movie, the guy wasn’t a terrorist at first. He became one because of how he was treated.’

  ‘Is that any excuse?’ Brian asked. ‘If I get caught speeding and get roughed up by the police, I’m not going to blow up the police station.’

  ‘No,’ Tariq said. ‘But you haven’t had hundreds of years of dispossession and persecution either.’

  That comment was a little too pointed and Brian didn’t answer. The conversation changed to discussion of another movie. When I looked back to the drinks table, I saw Ibram pulling the ring off a can. He was glaring at me.

  6

  Tariq rang as soon as I reached my room. ‘I’m sorry about Samuel’s comment and telling your name,’ he said. ‘I could see it upset you.’

  I should have told him that seeing Ibram had upset me more, but what good would it have done? It would have created bad blood between Tariq and Raniya’s brothers, and caused more trouble than it was worth.

  ‘I should have ignored him,’ Tariq went on, ‘or explained.’

  ‘No, it’s okay, Tariq. There are enough differences without outlining more. I can cope with being introduced. My Uncle Richard does it all the time.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re not upset with me.’ There was a different tone in his voice; I let it wash over me like water from a healing spring.

  ‘Ameera?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I have another idea.’

  I felt a quiver of excitement but it was coupled with dread.

  ‘Maryam will ask you to go to the movies. Make sure you sit on the end of the row but leave the aisle seat free. I’ll pretend there are no other seats. I have to be nearby in the dark to watch Maryam doesn’t come to harm.’

  I laughed. Natasha would have called Tariq’s protection stifling, but I was Pakistani enough to feel the care and honour given when we girls were ‘looked after’. But Papa would think it should be Riaz looking after me, not his friend.

  I was a mess at the cinema, worrying about how to stay at the back of the line of girls walking down the aisle so I’d be the one sitting at the end of the row. What if one of the girls decided to sit on the other side of me to chat? Then Tariq’s plan would be stuffed.

  Besides Maryam and me, there was Natasha, her Anglo friend Luanne, Raniya and Seema. They all filed in licking ice-creams. My stomach was in too much of a knot to eat one. I managed to sit down last but there were two seats vacant beside me. Uh-oh. Tariq would have to sit in the furthest seat. I couldn’t ask everyone to shift up one: it would only draw their attention to him. But he didn’t come.

  The ads began; still no Tariq.

  ‘I thought your brother was coming,’ Natasha said to Maryam.

  Maryam crunched on the cone. ‘He’ll be around somewhere.’ She didn’t sound concerned. Luanne was leaning over, listening. ‘Is Maryam’s brother your boyfriend?’ she asked Raniya. ‘He’s so hot.’

  Natasha understood our customs and began to explain, but Raniya cut in. ‘We don’t date, Luanne.’

  Luanne’s mouth fell open. ‘You’re kidding? What if you like someone? How do you get married?’ She giggled uncertainly. ‘You can’t all be nuns.’

  Raniya frowned. ‘Our parents arrange our marriages. We have input, of course,’ she added. ‘I’ll go on dates with my fiancé when we’re engaged.’

  ‘Is that the first time you get to kiss him?’ Luanne asked.

  Raniya kept her face calm but I knew how scandalised she was. ‘We will be chaperoned.’ It came out of her mouth as a tight hiss.

  Luanne didn’t know what that meant and Natasha had to explain. Luanne looked even more horrified.

  Seema stared at her lap; she hated it when our customs were criticised, especially since each family had variations on the theme. Mum had told me some Pakistani families were allowing love marriages now, but I knew Papa would never agree to that. I’d asked Maryam recently about marriage in her family. ‘I’m allowed to choose,’ she’d said, ‘but Mummy and Daddy want me to choose a Christian. They say it will be easier to marry someone with the same world-view.’

  Raniya began explaining our customs to Luanne but I had the odd impression her words were directed at me. Perhaps it was my own guilt or the way she looked at me once or twice. Still, I couldn’t stop myself from continually glancing to the empty aisle seat.

  Then the lights dimmed and I felt the seat next to me move, heard the faint squish of flattened leather, smelled cologne, subtle and fresh like a beach breeze. Tariq. I could just see his smile, the left side of his mouth following the right as always. He’d left the aisle seat vacant and was sitting right next to me. He bent close and said in my ear, ‘Good to see you, Ameera.’ My ear burned with his breath.

  I couldn’t say a word about the movie later; throughout, I was only aware of Tariq’s presence. At one point we both fumbled with the armrest and our hands brushed. For a second too long he left his hand on mine and I felt as though the movie theatre had faded away and we were alone. In that moment I knew this wasn’t simple friendship. I felt his care like a fierce physical embrace. If I’d been asked to explain why I cared for him in return, I wouldn’t have been able to. I just knew I did.

  Papa had told me folk tales from Pakistan about lovers who fell in love at first sight. I used to think that was unrealistic and romantic, but Mum said it was like that with her and Papa. And now I felt it too. I guess when you don’t meet many boys socially, things can happen quicker.

  Papa would
say that love should come after marriage but I knew now that wasn’t true. He probably thought you could only love someone after you’d slept with them. How unfair of him not to allow his children to marry for love when that was what he’d done.

  At the swell of the closing music, Tariq shifted to the aisle seat. When the lights came on, the girls began to chat about the movie. I glanced at Tariq. He half-smiled and his gaze lingered on my face. I turned back to my friends and caught Raniya watching me. Her glance flickered to Tariq. Did she guess he’d been sitting close beside me, a place reserved only for a brother, father or husband?

  7

  It was the week before Christmas when my world fell apart. I had been at Maryam’s house, and yes, I saw Tariq there, but mainly we girls watched music DVDs and made gulab jarmins for dessert. It was daytime so I took the chance to walk back by myself, and as I approached our house I saw an unfamiliar car take off. When I let myself in, Papa was stalking up and down the lounge room. I remember noticing the rug: an antique faded red Bukhara, one of Papa’s favourites. Mum was watching him from the couch. I hadn’t seen her look like that before, as though something terrible would happen if she left the room. She saw me first and motioned quickly for me to go upstairs. She looked frantic, which had the opposite effect of what she wanted: I was rooted to the spot with apprehension.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I said.

  Papa turned on me. ‘You!’ he said. Gone was his usual loving greeting of ‘beti ji’. He was a stranger.

  Mum stood up. ‘Hassan.’ But her warning was tentative. Neither of us had ever seen him like this.

  He jabbed the air in front of me. ‘You have been seen. Acting dishonourably with boys.’

  I was too shocked to defend myself.

  Mum cut in. ‘I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding, Hassan. Ask her.’

  ‘How will we hold up our heads in the community?’ Papa raged. ‘What will the family say in Kashmir?’

  I wanted to say he’d got it all wrong, but would he believe me?

  ‘The imam has visited—he said I should know so I can deal with it. You have been seen at a mixed party. You, Ameera. How could you do this to us?’

  I licked my lips. His anger was spilling into sorrow; the combination wasn’t good to see. ‘Papa, I’ve done nothing immoral.’

  Mum smiled at me, a little too brightly. ‘See, Hassan, it’s all a mistake.’

  He shouted, ‘Were you at a mixed party? Was the Yusuf boy there and others?’

  I couldn’t lie so I said nothing. Papa would say even the phone calls were immoral. He must never know about them; that would get Riaz into trouble as well.

  Mum was looking more concerned now. ‘Ameera?’

  ‘I was there, but it was innocent. I went with Maryam.’

  ‘It was a boy’s party. You cannot go to boys’ parties. It is not seemly. Everyone will think you have a relationship.’ Papa said ‘relationship’ as if it was a swearword.

  ‘Hassan, stop. Ameera is a good girl.’

  He swung around on me then, so close I thought he’d hit me. I flinched, but his next words hurt more than his hand would have. ‘You are not a good girl.’ He spaced the words so I wouldn’t miss any. ‘You have brought dishonour to this family. Where there is smoke there is fire. Chello, go to your room. I will decide what is to be done.’

  What did he mean? I understood the dishonour part—though I disagreed—but what had to be done?

  Mum was the one who voiced it. ‘Hassan? What do you mean? What are you going to do?’

  I didn’t get to hear an answer, for Papa shouted, ‘Go!’

  I ran to my room like a disgraced little girl.

  I didn’t know if it was Raniya who had told her parents about the party—for my own good, no doubt—or her brother. Someone had said it and that was enough. I’d never seen Papa so angry and I felt sick with fear. What was he thinking of doing? Two months in my room with only bread and water? Would he do that? No computer or phone for a month?

  My phone. I began erasing Tariq’s messages. I could hear the warmth of his voice even in the texts. His beautiful words. I was crying as I read each one before I hit the delete button. Then the music. It was like cutting my heart out. But Papa must never know I spoke to Tariq late at night.

  No one came near me that first night, not even Mum. Fortunately, I had my own bathroom and toilet. It wasn’t until Papa went to work in the morning that she brought me breakfast. I fell into her arms and sobbed. She cried too.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I never thought it would come to this.’

  ‘You don’t think I’m bad, do you, Mum?’

  She stroked the hair away from my face. ‘Course not. But you do need to tell me what’s happened so I know what I’m dealing with.’ She raised her eyebrows.

  I knew Mum would still love me even if I’d slept with Tariq, but I’d be too ashamed to ever tell her something like that. With relief I said, ‘I haven’t done anything wrong. I haven’t even kissed anyone.’

  Mum looked sideways at me as she pulled me to sit next to her on the bed. ‘What about the party?’

  I bit my lip; I knew what she’d say next.

  ‘You didn’t tell us it was Natasha’s brother’s party. You led us to believe it was hers.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum. I just wanted to go. Maryam went.’

  ‘She’s not Muslim, love.’ Mum sighed.

  Nor did Maryam have a father like mine. Mum wasn’t about to say that to me, but I could sense her disapproval wasn’t all directed at me.

  ‘What’s Papa going to do?’

  She frowned. ‘I don’t know. He did have a surprise for you, but I don’t know if he’ll follow through on that now.’

  ‘What sort of surprise?’ I could tell by Mum’s tone she didn’t think I’d like it. What if he stopped me from going to uni and I had to join the carpet business? I didn’t want to do that any more than Riaz did.

  ‘You’ll have to wait and see. Ameera, I need to know.’ She put her hands on my shoulders. ‘Do you feel something for Tariq?’

  ‘Will you tell Papa?’

  ‘Not necessarily, but I need to know how serious it is.’

  ‘We just talk. He’s nice, Mum.’

  ‘I already know how nice he is. I presume it was you who arranged his visit to Riaz that night?’

  I nodded slowly.

  ‘What if your father arranged a marriage with him?’

  I tried to appear deadpan but my eyes betrayed me. Mum dropped her hands from my shoulders and rubbed her forehead. She looked at me and I saw that she was almost crying.

  ‘So you love him,’ she said.

  ‘What can be done?’ There was hope in my voice, but Mum didn’t share my tone.

  ‘If it’s a question of honour—’

  ‘But I haven’t done anything.’

  ‘I believe you, but in your father’s eyes you’ve dishonoured him. Dishonour sticks like slander. He says it stains like dye, you can never erase it.’ She thought for a second. ‘Sometimes dishonour can be fixed with a marriage.’

  ‘But Tariq’s Christian—that’s why I kept my interest secret.’

  Mum nodded slowly. ‘I know—it’s a problem. I just needed to know what you felt in case your father thinks of it as an option. Though the way he talks about the Yusufs, I doubt it.’

  Mum gave me another long hug then got up to leave. ‘This will calm down, Ameera. I’ll talk to him. But please don’t do anything rash, like going to Maryam’s house. It would increase the shame your father already feels, maybe force him to act more strictly than he normally would. I’m sorry.’

  At the door; she turned and rushed back to hug me again. ‘Oh, Ameera, God loves you so much. He is your true father—He will look after you.’

  She kissed me and left. I sat there after she’d gone, astonished. Mum rarely spoke to us about what she thought of God. I knew Papa wouldn’t agree that God was my father. But what if He were? Could I dare to ask Him to look
after me better than my own father?

  8

  That night Riaz came to my room with chicken korma. Mum had made it using curry paste from a jar but he’d gone to the Tandoor Kitchen to buy me a garlic naan. He knew how much I loved naan.

  ‘Riaz, you’re an angel. I’m so hungry.’

  He watched me while I fell on the food. ‘Ameera, I’m sorry if giving you Tariq’s phone number caused all this.’

  I swallowed down a mouthful. ‘I could have refused the number or not used it. Besides, it was worth it.’ I looked up at him. He seemed truly concerned. ‘Tariq was never my boyfriend—we only ever talked.’

  ‘I believe you, Ames.’

  That was when it hit me: my ‘friendship’ with Tariq would have to end. Papa would watch me like a falcon forever now.

  ‘I suppose I’ll be lucky if I get to go to uni after this,’ I said.

  Then I saw the look on Riaz’s face. The concern had morphed into sorrow and pity; it made him look older.

  ‘Riaz?’

  He moved to the bed and put an arm around me. ‘Ames, I want you to know how sorry I am.’

  Not sorry enough, I thought. If he was, wouldn’t he have stood with me, taken half the blame? But maybe he didn’t see how having a girlfriend had led him to give me Tariq’s number. Still, it was my choice to use it, and I was proud of that. I couldn’t blame Riaz. Though a little voice whispered that Papa probably wouldn’t be as angry about Riaz having a girlfriend.

  Riaz hadn’t finished. ‘I love you, Ames. And I mean this—if something happens that you don’t like, you call me and I’ll come.’

  I gaped at him, amazed. What did he mean? He couldn’t leave a nightclub on time to drive me home, so why promise something like this? But he was serious. There was a concern in his eyes that I’d rarely seen.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ I asked.

  ‘I hope not. I hope this gets sorted okay.’

  He’d overheard something, I could tell, but he wouldn’t let on. He just held me for an age then left the room, taking my plate with him.