Wild West of the Heart
THIRTY-SIX

There was always something poetic about freedom.

It was what teenagers wanted the most, that they grow up and finally get to live. Get to be free. But what exactly did they want to be free from?

Freedom means many things to many people.

Being independent, without constraints. It's being your own person in such a world, a final breath of fresh air. Freedom is the oxygen of the soul. And it's beyond just a state of mind. We look at freedom and we see a lifestyle. We see happiness. There was something poetic about it. Freedom.

-

Aaliyah Faruq sucked air into her lungs in a way that created allowance in her corset. She believed it was too tight but her mother convinced her it was just about the right size.

Besides, it wasn't meant to free on top of the lavender gown she wore. If there was anything she hated besides getting married today, it was this gown that was seemingly passed down the Faruq women train, from her great grandmother to her grandmother, to Khadijat, her mother.

And now, eighteen and a half years old, it was her own turn to wear the feeble dress. It had just come in from the tailor yesterday but she could only do so little. It was an elaborate lavender dress with pearls along it's neck and sides. The dress dropped far below her ankles to the ground.

But above her waist, it wasn't that much of an eyesore, you could see the effects of the corset, plumping her sides into definite shape.

She exhaled after a while, turning around. She'd been standing in front of mirror for close to an hour, she couldn't tell though because there was always something in her mind.

And each time, she just couldn't fathom the fact that today was that one day in her life that she would yes to a man for a lifetime.

She couldn't grasp the concept of it all.

Having to solemnly vow to love someone for the rest of your life. It was an absurd thought to her, but luckily she didn't have to grasp anything.

Her parents did all the work.

You see when Aal was thirteen, she already knew who her husband was to be. This rich family next to them, and a friend to her father had a son that was just entering law school at that time. He was approaching his twenties when she was thirteen.

And now, after five years the whole process was complete. The Pennukaanal and Nischayam were only rounded up a few days. She'd met the man, Ravi, who grew up to be a respectable lawyer. She knew that, because of how highly everyone spoke of him. But the problem really wasn't him.

It was the fact that she was in love with another person, Jamie, who had gone to her secondary school. And though they still talked, she grieved for the future they wouldn't get to have. For not knowing the possibilities of what could have been.

Here she was, about to swear to love a man who knew nothing about her, except what her parents told him. They didn't know her, they didn't know who she was now. They didn't see past that thirteen year old that was frizzled at the thought of a fancy marriage to a fancy man. A fancy life.

But now she had evolved.

And she knew life was far more than that. It was why she wanted to go to university, maybe have some time to make decisions. To make plans with Jamie. But it wasn't possible, because of Khadijat. Actually, it was because of tradition. The infamous islamic marital practice that haunted every girl.

Afraid to ruin her make up with her tears, she pushed a lump down her throat. Her neck was bare because her mother hated necklaces. But she had a ring around her nose, and around her ears.

And she had a scarf around her neck, and across her shoulders. Those were a slight shade of white, to rhyme with her footwear. The gown had sleeves to cover up her arms that had even been decorated with henna earlier that week. But she didn't care.

The henna was the least of her worries.

She was eighteen, about to get married to a twenty three year old man. Her case wasn't so indifferent, but it wasn't as worse. Because in the north, people her age were getting betrothed to men thrice their ages, their father's peers in maybe an attempt to savor a dying family business.

Or just for the tradition.

Either way, Aal had all her life to prepare for this moment but somehow, she still wasn't ready.

The fan had blown her tears back in her eyes as she sniffled into toilet paper. "Are you ready?" Abdul walked in, closing the door behind him.

It left a lasting echo before she turned around.

Aaliyah was a beauty and somehow she still made the dress work. "I" Abdul flatteringly paused.

"Don't do that" She said, slipping on her sandals and then walking to her bag. Abdul cleared his throat. "You're really doing this" He breathed.

"You're a man, so you don't get to until you're twenty four or twenty five. Hold unto your youth, their coming for your freedom" She whispered, as if rehearsing a poetic line. She was anyways from a book she was reading earlier, a book she wouldn't get to finish reading. Just like this chapter of her life that was about to close on her.

"Slow down, Emily Dickinson" Abdul teased as he helped her with a bag. "The car is waiting" As she approached the door, he called unto her.

"Aaliyah"

"Are you happy?" They made eye contact and then she shrugged her shoulders. "Mum is happy, and i'm happy she's happy" She flashed a smile.

She was right, Khadijat had derived joy from planning out the whole wedding day, since she was fifteen. And how it just meant to be perfect so she'd get to show it on facebook and whatever arewa group that she was in. "That's—" "That's something" Abdul arched his brows.

"Yeah, it really is" She replied.

"Today's going to be good" He added, as something glinted in Aaliyah's eyes. He let it go however. "Yeah, it is" She nodded, with a smirk.

-

"Hold on" Abdul whispered, holding Obi's arm back before he entered the doors of the mosque. There was a large mat with cursive designs before him, on which he placed his sandals.

There was also a rack on the other side but it went completely invisible beneath the roses. Yellowish, pink petals hanging at each corner. It went up as far as the minaret and there were carpets outside.

The imam spoke in arabic through the speakers as the guest began to come in. They both stood for a second as he placed a cap on Obi's head. It was also a jalabia which belonged to Abdul that he wore. Caramel brown, with embroideries around his neck and down his torso.

It was between a keffiyah or a taqiyah.

Abdul wore the red checkered keffiyah, a scarf he tied around his head that fell down his shoulders. It had a ring that he balanced on it. While Obi wore the taqiyah which was just like a skull cap.

As his hands adjusted the cap, he pulled away, pushing a lump down his throat. "Are you ready?" He asked, being less intrusive and making sure Obi was comfortable with this. Of course he was, the mosque wasn't all that different from a church.

Even though it was just his first time here, he felt at home. Because Abdul was here, beside him.

"Yes" He smiled from the side of his cheeks.

And Abdul walked in first, then Obi. It was a large room, like a hall with charts at each corner. Charts with arabic wordings and pictures.

The mosque had a traditional sweet smell, that might have been from the roses. And left to Obi, he had to walk a distance to reach the remaining of the guests. When he was about to halt, Abdul directed him further to where Aaliyah was. Afterall, he was here with him. And he managed to convince Khadijat, that that was his best friend.

"Further?" Obi mumbled, walking in the center that segregated both the male and the females. It was the first thing he noticed when he entered.

Abdul nodded as they approached the imam, there was a large carpet at his feet where Aaliyah and Saheed, her soon to be husband sat.

They moved slowly with minimal noise till they reached the other mat just beside that one. This was the one Khadijat and the rest of his family sat.

For a quick second, Abdul made eye contact with Aaliyah who flashed a smile. He waved before he sat on the ground.

"What's happening now?" Obi whispered to Abdul who looked at his mother.

"It's the nikkah" He replied and Obi nodded like though he was familiar with this.

The only time he heard of that was in social studies, a course he offered as a junior. "Okay" He said and Abdul smirked. "You have no idea what that is huh?" His eyes darted from Aaliyah into a distance. "Shut up" Obi rolled his eyes.

He narrowed his eyes at the imam, as if he understood the arabic that came from his lips. But at least, he was determined to know a few things because, if maybe he was to marry Abdul in the future and perhaps in an alternate universe- -all this won't be new to him.

To be continued...