The Invitation

The hatred disappeared from her eyes for a moment when I told her about mom, but the cold anger returned when I went on with my defiant tone.

"Raana was already lost to me when she said that she was ready to give up her family and her soul in order to be with you."

She smirked.

"Why do you pretend to be so concerned, by the way? I am the one who has to spend the nights alone and live with humiliation for the rest of my miserable life. She chose you over me, didn't she?"

"But you were the one who forced her make a choice, not me. I want you to be there in our future."

"Future? There is no future. I do not expect you to understand my feelings, because you are just an infidel westerner. But Raana knew from the beginning that I would be devastated by her actions. She had put me in a position to choose between her and my god."

"So what? Choose your daughter. It is god who had created Raana in a way that she prefers women over men. It's not her fault."

"No, this is just a test. God tests us with many things in our life. Raana's test was your temptation, and she failed. My test is how I react to Raana's betrayal, and I do not intend to fail."

"What kind of sadistic god would make a mother disown her daughter because she loves women? This is not God; this is the devil. And if this is God, so fuck him."

Fuzia's face went red and she clenched her feasts.

"You have stolen my daughter, and I cannot do anything about it. But I won't let you taint my home with your blasphemous breath. Get out of here right now, or I will call the police."

I stared at her in disbelief, then strode to the exit. Before leaving the room, I turned and pulled out a card from my jacket's pocket.

"You see this? When we were preparing the invitations, Raana said that she couldn't invite anyone from her family, and said that sending an invitation would be considered an insult by them. She had only a few friends to invite. But I, in my naivety, ordered an invitation card for you anyway, because I knew that there is nothing on earth that can replace one's mother, and I did not want Raana to suffer like me and miss her mother in her wedding."

I tore up the card and scattered the pieces on the floor.

"Now I see that I am luckier than Raana, because at least I know my mother loved me."

I regretted that words as soon as I sat in the car. When got home, I saw that Dad and Raana were waiting for me in the kitchen. I stood by the door and lowered my head. Raana smiled at me.

"Did you have a fight with her?"

I nodded.

"I think I just made things worse." I said in my lowest voice.

She gazed into the night as I narrated my conversation with Fuzia. When I was finished, she sighed.

"I had to do that myself long ago. At least now I know that I am freed from my past."

During the next days, it turned out that she was serious about getting free from her past. She swore that she will no never speak in her mother's language again. And when we agreed to get rid of our old apartment, Raana asked me to pack her things and get rid of them.

In our apartment, even though we had someone clean it up, my eyes kept looking for traces of blood. I pulled myself together and started packing. When it was time to pack Raana's stuff, I hesitated. Looking at her family albums, souvenirs, traditional clothes, and old poetry books in her language, I realized that I just couldn't throw them away. I considered hiding them somewhere, but I did not want to keep any secret from her. I finally came up with an idea, which was a little cruel, but I believed that it was the only proper thing to do.

I sent all of Raana's old stuff to her mother's address. Let the past deal with the past.

Raana refused my father's suggestion to have the wedding postponed. She said that it is better to get past these formalities as soon as possible. I did not care about the wedding, either. Without Fuzia's blessing, it would not be a happy ceremony, by the way. It was just gesture to show that we were proud to start a family together. All we cared about was the marriage itself, not the wedding.

In the remaining days to the wedding, we kept having rough sex, but it was more like a stress management technique, rather than love making. Although enjoyable and exciting, this sex was not the same as what we had before. Raana was not the same. Something was dying inside her.

Sometimes I wished that she would cry, yell, snap, or do anything that indicated that she was healing. But she did not shed a tear. She seemed to have surrendered to the injuries and to the void in her heart. I felt terribly guilty, because I knew that Fuzia was right when she said that I was the main cause of Raana's suffering. My girl was in pain, because she wanted to be true to me. She seemed older, wiser, and stronger. Deep down, I could not deny that although I loved this defiant and twisted Raana, I terribly missed the old one.

When the wedding day arrived, there was a mess around the hotel. The cops went through a lot of problem to keep out the reporters, LGBT activists, and homophobic protesters. Only the small group of people with invitation cards would be allowed to enter. With the help from officials and friends, we finally made it to the hotel and found each other standing at the podium, in front of the officiant.

I did not really pay any attention to the officiant's words, and I know that Raana was the same. A friend brought our rings, and I had to go first. I put my ring on the tip of Raana's finger and repeated after the officiant: "...I promise to be your faithful wife, to love you through the best and the worst, through the difficult and the easy..."

Not that I did not mean what I was saying, but I could feel how hard it is for Raana to go through this. I wanted to get her home so that we could start building our future and healing our wounds. When I was finished, I pushed the ring in, and offered my hand so that Raana could go on. She put the ring on my fingertip, and waited for the officiant.

In the middle of Raana's vows, I heard the wedding hall's door creak. As I turned to see the source of the noise, I saw a veiled figure enter. With confident and steady strides, the figure went to a corner. In her gloved hand, she was holding a patched up invitation card. She held her head up, and signaled for us to continue. I felt Raana's hand start shaking. Her teary eyes were fixed on Fuzia's corner, and her breathing was fast and loud. I was afraid that she might lose control, but she just wiped her tears and asked the officiant to restart the vows.

This time, she repeated the words passionately, and she did that in her mother tongue.