Chapter Twelve
Before
“I’m nervous,” I admitted to Ali as we approached the sports bar where we were meeting his cousins to watch a football game.
I hadn’t met any of them yet, but I knew they were all close. Ali was especially tight with the cousin he roomed with in college. “What if they don’t like me?”
Ali squeezed my hand. Holding hands still felt very illicit. Our close family knew we were getting married, but our engagement wasn’t official and wouldn’t be public knowledge until after the formal asking ceremony, thetulba, in a couple of weeks.
“Why wouldn’t they like you?” Ali asked. “Besides, what they think doesn’t really matter because I like you.” Winking, he squeezed my hand again. “Very, very, very much.”
I smiled back, swallowing my nervousness. Pretending not to notice that he didn’t use the L-word. Neither of us had. Other couples exchanged the L-word all the time. I knew that. We just hadn’t gotten there. Yet.
But it was on my mind enough that, earlier that day, I’d mentioned to Mama and Lulu that Ali hadn’t said the L-word yet.
“Hetchee fathee,” Mama proclaimed. “You don’t need empty talk.”
Lulu and I had been at the kitchen table makingmaamoulcookies, which would be frozen and served at thetulba. Mama stood at the counter prepping the date filling for the semolina butter cookies.
Lulu rolled a small ball of cookie dough. “Telling your future bride that you love them is empty talk?” she asked. “Do you mean Baba doesn’t tell you he loves you when you’re in bed at night being all lovey-dovey?”
“Ist-hee a halick!” Mama blushed and threw the kitchen towel she was holding at Lulu. “Have some shame.”
Lulu easily caught it. “There’s no shame in wanting your husband to be in love with you.”
“Seriously,” I said, agreeing. “But just because Ali hasn’t said, ‘I love you,’ doesn’t mean that he doesn’t.” He was definitely into me physically. And I felt his warmth and his fondness, that indescribable glow of something special between us.
“You don’t have to love each other yet.” Mama carried the date filling over to the table and heavily took a seat. Her apron was covered in flour, and curly gray-frosted tendrils of hair escaped her ponytail. “Yougrowto love each other.”
Lulu scoffed. “Yeah, I intend to be in lovebeforeI get married, not after.”
“Don’t be such an American.” Mama reached for a cookie-size dough ball and flattened it before spooning in the date filling.
“We are Americans,” I reminded her.
Mama kept talking. “They are all in love when they get married, and then half of them end up divorced. Our way is much better.”
“What way is that?” Lulu asked. “Marry a near stranger and hope you get along? It’s like a one-night stand that lasts until death do us part.”
Mama frowned at her. “We’ll be lucky if we manage to marry you off. Men don’t like girls with attitude.”
Lulu winked at me and mouthed,Some definitely do.
“Our way,” Mama continued, “is for the families to help you choose a good mate. We check his reputation and his family’s reputation. We try to see if it’s a good match, a sensible match.”
Lulu grimaced. “I prefer a passionate love match.”
I replayed Mama’s words over in my head as Ali held the bar door open for me that evening. I didn’t need to wait for love to grow. I was already in love. As for Ali, he was definitely in lust. And it was obvious that he enjoyed my company. But was he in love? I had no idea. But surely it was only a matter of time.
“There you are,” said a heavyset guy with an appealing teddy bear quality about him.
Ali’s cousins were an attractive group. They all had killer thick, dark lashes that required no mascara or eyelash curlers. He introduced me around. There were seven of them in all, four women and three guys, including his cousin Nasser, a handsome man who mostly kept his distance.
“This is Hamooda,” Ali said, introducing me to the teddy bear cousin.
“So you’re Lizzie, the girlfriend,” Hamooda said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
I froze. An arctic air swept through me.
