Under the Olive Tree

12. Itna 'Ashar

The graveyard was silent the following night because Amani was too absorbed in her own thoughts. Rather, she was too absorbed in thoughts of her conversation with Auntie that morning. Now that she wasn't in danger of being detained, they had quickly returned to their normal conversation topics.

That morning's normal conversation topic had been none other than the boy who'd gladly walked out the moment she told him she didn't want to marry. She'd been angry at him. Along with that, Auntie had the audacity to try reasoning with Amani over her mistakes.

"My love, marriage is here unlike the marriage you are used to. Once a boy asks for your hand, he's only motivation is to inform you of his interest. You are then granted a time to make your decision while speaking to the boy. If you are not interested even after your time of speaking, you can reject him. If you are, then you decide what you want to do in the time following."

Amani wrapped her arms around her legs and pressed her lips into her knees. That wasn't what a marriage proposal was. She refused to believe there could be another definition for it. A marriage proposal came at the end of all of that and only prompted two answers: yes or no. It was not as complicated as what her aunt was describing.

"This way he is making his mother and I aware of his plans to approach you. He is not hiding behind closed doors with you, my love. He is honoring your time and identity. He is holding your honor above his own desires."

That was trash.

Absolute trash.

If he had been honoring her time and identity, he would have come to her before he went to his mother and her aunt. He would have made her aware before he made them aware. He would have put her before either of them.

Amani wasn't the one in the wrong.

He'd gone about it the wrong way and he'd made her react the way she did. Perhaps if he had allowed her more time to think, if he'd showed her a morsel of stable attention or care, she would have been flattered by the step he'd taken. But Amani didn't even he'd been thinking of her in such a way until her aunt told her.

She was justified in her anger.

She was regretting it.

"I'm not," Amani snapped at her grandmother. "There's nothing to regret. I'm not here to marry. My father would just love that, too, wouldn't he? If he sent me here to tear me away from one guy and I found another one here. He'd actually love that."

He would. He'd probably love Muhsin.

"I didn't ask you. Actually, Sity, this is a conversation between me and myself. Mind your own grave, please," she frowned.

The statement hadn't been wrong, though. Her father would love how proper, lowering-his-gaze, and everything-unlike-the-white-guy Muhsin was. It was just another reason to leave this place.

Was she leaving, though, or running away?

"OK," Amani stood up. "You really need to respect personal space, Sity. In my own mind? Really?"

Amani hated it, but her grandmother was right.

"I'm leaving," Amani raised her hand to silence the voice interrupting her thoughts as she stomped away. "I can't even have privacy in the graves, now? This is insane."

As she left the graveyard, Amani came to a sight by the water fountain that made her stop in her footsteps. Her frustration sank through her feet to be absorbed into the ground beneath her the same way every emotion seemed to sink painfully through her every time her eyes landed on the same boy. The one who'd been a fun pastime to her until heartbreak showed her how much more he'd become.