At His Mercy

27

I wake up to the sound of the fan turning. It must be at least 5am, the light seems to be slipping into the room from under the curtains. The humming of the generator can be heard. The sound of traffic, a rickshaw reving away, the humdrum of Karachi.
I turn my head to brush it against Adam's, which is on my shoulder. He smiles in his sleep. And snuggles closer turning to kiss my neck, before settling in again. Its a strange but familiar feeling that seems to be settling between us.
Its been a week since that night. Since the day I woke up and thought 'I can't take it any more!'

we seem to have fallen into a more comfortable routine. we don't talk about the past, 5 years ago or even last week and that night. The feelings that it stirred in us both, lying just under the surface of the sea of endless thoughts and feelings neither of us wants to address much less discuss.

we are staying with Adam's aunt and uncle, whilst Adam meets with one of his investors. During our stay, we've been invited to several events: a couple of fund raisers, an nikkah ceremony and the opening of an art gallery. Adam says we should try and get some of the sights in too, whilst we are here. I'm happy we're busy, that way we can just plod along together. We haven't really spoken at all. This must be what it's like for normal couples.

During the day we occupy ourselves with work and studying. Adam at work and me at home with Ami ji. In the evening I usually go out with her, to visit friends or we stay in and watch tv together. Ami ji has tried to get me to go shopping, but much to her disappointment I can't stand the heat outside and don't really like being in the sun. Plus I dont really need anything. Zara goes to collage and is otherwise engaged fully on social media or like me reading. she has exams coming up and seems to be doing the impossible: surviving on very little sleep- whilst she juggles everything whilst still maintaining an air of affront when she's questioned regarding her exam preparations. I haven't asked her if she needs any help, mostly because I'm pretty sure she'll laugh me out of the room and never speak to me again. So I usually keep out of it.

"Soo-ti bee nai hei!' Ami Ji tells Adam one morning 'collage, tutor, or Pehr computer per lag-hi rehti hei! dow- teen ghentei . . . .soo-ti hi nai hei! kessay paraay ghi?!' The scolding voice fades into a hum drum of complaints as Adam looks over the top of his newspaper at me. I know he's thinking of me and what I was like at university because his eyes are full of sardonic amusement. I avoid meeting his gaze and focus on pushing the omelette around my plate. The thought makes me uncomfortable because it reminds me of that other girl. the one who never had any choice but to do everything. the one who nearly broke under the constant pressure- but was revived with the care and attention of a boy- for a while. It's suprising what a person can live through. its not the same I tell myself and feel a sadness fill me- for that girl and what she went through.

Zara and I went to the beauty parlour a couple of times, mostly because I understand its the done thing here. women don't actually get themselves ready for events. They let someone else do it for them. Despite my reluctance Zara seems to insist, so in an attempt to to bond with her I keep her company.

whilst I'm there, Zara talks me into getting a skin polish and having my hair done. I'm not keen on getting it cut, coloured or anything else but I let the therapist give me Keratin treatment and blow dry it for me. I'm glad I did, it feels richer and more conditioned. Ami ji literally shrieked with joy when she saw me. Zara just rolled her eyes and nudged me as if to suggest I was sucking up to Ami ji. All this banter and teasing is so novel I feel every bit of it. loving the newness of it. Have I ever had this kind friendship with another girl?

Even Sara, my closest friend, is careful to word her thoughts as if not to upset me or cause me any unnecessary anxiety. Her words come from a good place that show she only wants the best for me and I can understand that. we have been friends since our first elective, finding allies in each other when few could be found elsewhere. but our friendship is different. I never told her everything about Adam. it hurt too much to think of it. Now Zara and Ami ji. .. . this quietness that I feel, doesn't offend them or worry them and thank god they haven't written me off as being boring. they actually seem to like spending time with me. Ami ji once even let it slip that they now get to see Adam more. I can't see how, since he usually comes in late into the evening and we rarely see him unless there is an event we are required to attend with him. on those days, he calls and lets us know when he'll be home. Ami ji is helpful because she tells me usually what look I should go for- depending on where we are going. How conservative or informal the event is, Pakistani: traditional, modern. . . .

When Adam told us about Karachi, it was Ami ji who said we should go alone. Zara looked relieved but there was definitely a twinkle of mischief in Ami ji's eyes. Adam seemed unconcerned, but I felt the sudden angst creep up on me. Here with Ami ji and Zara, life was beginning to become predictable, we were all getting into a routine.

The sound of Sati's Gnossienne 1 fills my ears. carefully I lift the skirt of my length and add a ankle bracelet. without heeding to my protests, Ami ji has given me many items of jewellery, which she insisted gave the 'right' impression of a new wife. Apparently I need to look the part, my missing jewellery may give the wrong impression of the family. You came for a divorce, not to flutter around like a social butterfly giving the 'right' impression to anyone. A voice inside my head sneers. I don't have to annoy people on the way to getting the divorce though- I try to reason. Everyone I've met so far has been courteous and generous in their kindness. It would be impolite to do anything but behave cordially with them.

As I slip into my heels, I take a final look in the mirror. I don't recognise the person who looks back. I look away quickly. not wanting to linger and notice the changes. the woman who looks back seems every bit the groomed, affluent educated woman that Adam has as a wife. But its not real, I remind myself. Back home I'm either wearing scrubs, jeans or pjs when I get home. occasionally I wear a smart trousers suit and a shirt when I have to go to a conference or training.

Now in white, I stand here awkwardly, hand on the door handle. a deep breath and then I step out. Ami ji chose this outfit for me. a sleeveless short top in silver and white and fully embroidered skirt balance out the look . huge traditional hoops heavy with dangling pearls complete the look. She matched everything before I left, and even though I'm not a child and may have otherwise complained about being dressed as a doll. Its more of a relief than anything else. she knows. whats what here and what is and isn't appropriate. I can't help but appreciate her guidance in navigating these social situations.

even at the top of the stairs I can see Adam sitting in the formal guest room. the door is open and he is sitting directly in my line of vision. He stares as I come down. his uncle is talking to him, but his eyes are locked onto me as I make my way down. I feel them burn into me as I busy myself gathering up the skirt to avoid tripping on it, in order to avoid his eye contact. I feel the goosebumps rise on my arm, under his gaze. he narrows his eyes as I come into the room, where he is sat on the sofa waiting for me. sitting up a little taller as I stop beside him and say in the most normal voice I can muster. 'ready?' I smile at everyone else and notice them all staring at me now.

'Mashallah!' says his aunt 'kitna cute couple hei!' then she nudges her husband and tells him to take a picture, barely able to contain her excitement. I'm not sure why we seem to have this effect on all the adults we meet, but it seems Adam's marriage is something that seems to have caused quite a lot of excitement. In his formal navy brochade sherwani, no one can deny Adam looks dashing! The jacket is tailored carefully to his shoulders and the high neck makes him look every bit the gorgeous male specimen he is. I see him grin , but its a strained look which I recognise as being polite more than amused or obliging. As I look up at him, he grins down at me, for real this time and I smile back. then there is a flash and we both suddenly turn to protest.