What Actually Happened

Prologue

You will marry me.

His words replay over and over in my mind until they jumble into a bunch of meaningless syllables.

Mother didn't know the half of what I was going through, she never had to worry about an arranged marriage because she'd come from a loving, poor family that allowed her to choose. And she was lucky enough to end up marrying a wealthy man who loved her and treated her with kindness— and he never, ever hit her.

Whereas I, having now come from the wealth of my father, must marry into wealth. I am placed on a pedestal, like a slave to be sold. I have no choice, ok that is untrue, I have very little choice but ultimately, it's the decision of my father.

"Baba, I don't want to marry this man. He is pure evil!" I said once over dinner. Mother gave me a stern look and Father continued to eat his bowl of molokhia and rice. I wait patiently as he gathers his thoughts. He wipes his mouth and I can tell that he is trying not to get angry. He is trying to understand my oppression, but he cannot. He was born and raised with the mentality that it is the men who rule the Earth and the women who cook and clean. I hate that mentality. I know I am more capable of a life beyond dishes.

"What do you mean benti, Mary you must marry him. It is for the good of masr." Right there, he says it like it has no affect on him, because it doesn't. For someone who claims to love me, his actions don't reflect it.

My choice, my choice is completely obliterated and I know I have no rights and I can't do anything but to go through with the union to a person I hate. A person I despise and cannot stand and wish the death of. At that, he stands up and leaves the kitchen, carrying his plate to the sink for Mother to wash later.

After he leaves the room, Mother turns to me, now able to speak freely. "Mary, habebty, you can not say these things to your father. He is under a lot of stress already. Your wedding is going to be at the church tomorrow. I know you are not happy with the man, but he is the president of all of Egypt. Habebty, he is the most powerful man there is. You don't have a choice in this matter and it would be nice if you could be less gloomy."

Suffice to say, I cried myself to sleep that night.

•••

"Mary! Rise up habebty! We have much to do today you can't sleep in this late." Mother walks into my room with many boxes in her hands. They look heavy, but she is strong. She stacks them high up to her chin and I hear the bounce they make when they land on my bed.

"Mama, go away." I say, moving around in my bed and waving her away.

"Habebty. Oomi we don't have time! You have to start your hair and makeup right away if we want to be at the church by three!" She exclaims, rips the blankets off of me like they are paper from a notebook. I gasp as the sudden cold air laces through me.

I had only talked to Peter, my now-betrothed and will-be husband, three entire times in my life. And each occasion was worse than the one before. And today I am expected to marry and spend the rest of my life with him. A complete stranger who is as awkward as a wooden plank in water and as horrid as molten lava.

1. The first time I met him, he knocked on my door and asked for my hand in marriage. He'd never asked me specifically, but he gave the flowers and chocolates to my father. He may as well have proposed to him. Peter had never seen me before and when he did, his lips turned up in what looked like an attempted smile and his eyes scanned my body— looking for flaws. He did not speak to me that day; he did nothing more than glance in my direction. Only to my father.

2. The second time I met with him, he had asked to go on a date. This was a foreign concept to me as it was obviously American. I wondered, at that time, if he was trying to show me he knew of other cultures. He took me to a nearby McDonalds and asked me what I wanted to order. When I said ice cream, he said I should watch my figure and instead bought me a salad. I did not enjoy this date.