HER

3. Nerves and Pies

Fareedah held up a beige turban for her sister as she strapped on her shoes.

"No, Fari. The black one" she said quietly and Fareedah went back to rummaging in the cupboards for the black turban.

"Why aren't you coming?" Rahmat asked

"They want to see you, not me" Fareedah said handing her sister the black turban, "besides, he doesn't even have a sibling does he?"
Rahmat stood up from the bed and sat on the chair in front of the mirror

"Fari..." Rahmat said as her sister began to tie up her hair and tuck it into the turban.

"It's okay. I'll meet him later"
Fareedah sighed noticing her sister's tense expression.

"Are you scared?"

"No." she shook her head "Just nervous"

"You shouldn't be. I'm sure he'd be handsome and tall. And funny... You know, all the things you like"

Rahmat barely managed a smile.
Fareedah tapped her shoulder with both hands.
"It's done. You look beautiful" she said

"Hmm" she hummed

"Do you think he'd let you show your hair?" Fareedah asked

"He's not Muslim." Rahmat said "I don't know" she added later on

"Let's head out." Fareedah said

Rahmat walked outside to her parents waiting for her. The father was already standing, rolling his keys around his index finger.

He said nothing about her outfit of choice. He only asked her not to be nervous. She ended up in the back seat of the car silent as her parents chatted quite comfortably.
Ignoring their conversation and only muttering one worded answers when she was spoken to directly.

When they arrived at that gates of their residence she gasped. They were rich, she knew. Her father was an employee of Richard's mother. She knew that. She just didn't know how rich.

The giant gate was gold and silver. It reminded her of a watch and she chuckled at the thought.
The gate slid open and they drove into the compound. The house was huge, it had adjoining wings, she could tell she just didn't know how many.

The architect of this house did a great job. She was sure the Ariel view of the house would be a star or a pentagon or something of that nature.
There was a large garden and a walkway winding through it.

Her father parked the car and they walked up to the front door. She stood behind her parents, silent staring at the huge glass double door as her father raised his hand to knock.

"Welcome, Mr and Mrs Ali" an older lady said as soon as the door opened.
"I'm Grace. I'm the house keeper. Mr Johns and his family are in the living room. Please come in" she said holding the door wide enough for them to walk in. Rahmat could feel the woman stare at her and smile. She felt a little self conscious. She tugged at the sides of her turban nervously. She'd never had people oogle her before.
The lady, Grace walk in front of them and led them to said living room.

Rahmat nervously sat down on one of the arm chairs in the living room.

"Dinner will be ready in a few minutes" Grace began to say just as Mr Johns walked into the room, holding his wife hand as she trailed behind him.
Rahmat's heart was beating out of control.
She crossed her jeans clad legs at her knees and leaned into the arm chair. She could hear her mother's voice in the back of her mind,
Back straight, you're a lady

He walked in. At least she thought that was him.
Richard. She mused.
His right hand was in his pocket and his left hand was holding his phone. He had this stony expression on his face. It showed no emotion at all. He wasn't at all enthused about meeting her, or maybe he just had that expression all the time. His scanned the room as soon as he got in. When his eyes finally landed on her she saw his expression falter a bit. She wasn't sure what it was, disappointment? It lasted less than a second and he was soon pulling the stony expression back on his face.
He took the seat directly opposite hers never once glancing her way and shifting his attention back to his phone.
Her parents chatted with his, clearly forgetting that they weren't the only ones in the room. She counted the zeconds until Grace came back in the room to tell them that dinner was ready.

They were led to the large dining area. The table was set and food was laid out. The chef was standing in the corner. He spoke a lot about the meal as they took their seats. Rahmat couldn't be bothered to listen.
She only wondered if they had a chef living with them constantly of if they had only hired him for the day.

She ended up seating across from him once again. His father took the table at the head of the table and his mother sat on his father's right. Her parents sat on Mr Johns left. There were only two seats left. One beside Richard and the other beside her mother, opposite Richard. She took the one beside her mother that wasn't even a question. She'd rather not sit close to him when he hadn't even looked her way since they got here.
Granted they hadn't even spent more than five minutes here, but still.

They began to eat. Rahmat didn't even remember what the chef had called the meal but it was good. She knew it had rice and she could taste the tanginess that came with soy sauce but that was it. She ate it though.
It was like food you'd eat at a fancy overpriced restaurant, fancy, good but not homey, never filling nor satisfying. At least that's how she felt.

Her parents were a lot chattier today than she'd seen them in a long time. They talked about everything, from the weather to work, politics and sports, even education. A few questions were thrown her way, she answered them as curtly as she could. And then the attention was shifted from her once again. They moved on to the topic of religion. She could hear Richard scoffed when his father gave an answer to a question her dad had asked about religion.
Rahmat wasn't surprised though. She knew rich people rarely had faith, or religion. They had everything and they, most of them believed in their own power and authority more than anything else. So she too, did not buy the 'I'm sort of a Chritian' answer that his father had given.

Dessert came later on. Rahmat had already stopped eating way before then.

Pies.

She sucked in air through her teeth.
How did she feel about pies? Not good.
She didn't hate them, she didn't like them either. It was kind of an on the fence kind of situation.
She ate it though. She tried to eat them. She didn't want to seem rude. But she just ended up cutting it into pieces and pushing them around her plate till the others had finished eating.

"Why don't you guys go out for a stroll" his father asked, "Jamal and I are going to watch the game"

Rahmat looked up from her plate. Her parents weren't saying anything. Well her father wasn't. Her mother had left the room and so had his mom too.
Was she spread wrapped up in her own thoughts she didn't notice them leave?

She sighed at the same time Richard said "Okay"
By then both their fathers were already walking out of the room.