XXVI - Family

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بسم الله
In the name of God
October 7th, 2004 11:39pm
Gwangju, South Korea, In-law's house

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His POV

"While you both do that, Oliver will come with me. We need to catch up."

I take a deep inhale, mildly dreading this conversation as I glance at Genesis over my shoulder, "Well, if I die, you know what happened."

"For my son, you're unfathomably dramatic."

"Well, yes, who else would I get it from?" I murmur, following my father to the farthest room, my mother and his' bedroom. Closing the door behind us, I notice his face looking mildly skeptical,

"What's so important that I must be dragged away?"

I feel the need to defend myself, although I haven't even heard him speak.

He takes a deep breath and asks, "How is Genesis's family?"

"Well, that's a loaded question. Elaborate further, please."

I know where this is going but feign ignorance all the same.

"Is her family Muslim? Large? Does she have family? Do they accept her? Does she accept them?"

"Some of her family is Muslim, like her uncle and her brother. Her dad isn't. At least to my knowledge. She has a small family, only her and her father for the most part," I respond, shifting from one foot to the other, "He accepts her and likewise."

From what I know, at least. I have not heard much about her family now that I think about it. I've never thought to inquire nor was I ever curious.

"Her mom?" He further presses, eyes squinting slightly.

"I... haven't heard about her mother at all, actually," I confess.

"What do you know about her?"

My eyebrows furrow, displeasure beginning to coat my thoughts.

"Oliver," he begins, "Don't look at me like that. I am not attacking her nor am I attacking you for marrying her. Over the phone when you had told your mother about the marriage, it was all very sudden and I only want to give you questions to ask her. Not for me, but for you both, so you both can be completely sure that the other person is what you want."

My father who praised Genesis to her face suddenly has more questions than compliments; my stomach feels uneasy as I take a deep breath before saying,

"Alright. I will."

"I do like her," he adds, the echoey clinking of dishes heard in the momentary silence, "Her first impression was more than fine, and I've only heard good from you and your mother. However, you haven't yet gone emotionally deep enough to even judge her properly. Do so before your heart gets too attached to see clearly."

I want to object his statement, but I realise that he isn't wrong. If anything, she knows more about me than I know about her.

"Alright. I get it."

He shakes his head, "Don't just 'get it', really listen to how important this is."

"I am listening well. Why did you not tell me this sooner? Before I actually married her?"

"Would you have listened, Oliver?"

Silence is my response as I hear laughter through the paper walls. It feels almost mocking.

"I suppose we will never know, hm? And why now?"

"I know how you are, Oliver. I am only warning you so you can avoid the mistake I made."

He must see the look on my face so he adds, "I am happy with my marriage with your mother, then and now. I am only saying I could've helped her if I had known more. Being a good partner means knowing them well enough to help them. And if you love her, truly love her, you'd make sure you know how to show it properly."

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On our way home, my mind was overfilling with questions. I could not yet tell if the negative feeling in the pit of my stomach was displeasure or nerves, but I can barely hear Genesis's  sleepy voice as a result. Her voice fades and only when we're a minute or two do I realize she's completely silent, her head leaning against the rented car's window.

I feel a small twinge as I (mostly) unintentionally ignored her. I hope that she didn't notice and just fell unconscious while talking.

I do... enjoy her. However, realising how little I know makes me wonder; whatever way she is, I know I would like her. But what if she, deep down, desires more than me? What if I learn that she never wanted someone like me? What if I'm a poor exception to her rule, one that was by pure chance, someone that... someone that she only settled for. And how would I know if Genesis speaks with unadulterated truth, when I don't even know her?

I trust her, but... should I?

I sigh, gripping the steering wheel, glancing at her. She lightly exhales, the front of her niqab fluttering with each breath. If my father were to hear my thoughts, he'd berate me for even thinking of this. He'd say that I should know better than to spiral, should know better that he does not mean for me to psych myself out. I should know that it was good hearted advice, barely a warning. And yet, I cannot help myself but to unravel any ounce of certainty I had.

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