“Oh, really! So you’ve got experience with both!”
“Just a few girls that I and my friends managed to ‘number’ in malls as teenagers. If you want their names and phone numbers, I’ll give them to you!”
“No, thanks. Well, I have to say that you caught me totally off guard. Give me a little time to think and give you an answer.”
“I’m going to Riyadh tomorrow. I have some people to see there, and I’ll stay a few days so that you can think in peace.”
47.
To: seerehwenfadha7et@yahoogroups.com
From: “seerehwenfadha7et”
Date: January 28, 2005
Subject: The Best Closure Ever
To listen to the song, click here
Why does the first love refuse to let go?
It comes back right away and awakens us to the past.
It grows as we do, yet returns us to the old days.
With insistent reminders, we’re thrown to its flames.
With its fire, it burns us, it burns to the core.
Why does the first love refuse to let go?—Julia Boutros*
The story has almost reached its end. But my friends are still candles that life sets aflame. They melt down, burned away by love and giving. I took you by the hands, my dear readers, to lead you on a weekly tour of these scented candles, flickering desperately. I wanted you to breathe in their fragrances yourselves. I wanted you to stretch out your hands to catch a few dissolving drops of wax so that you would feel their hot sting. So that you would understand the pain they had been through and the fires that lie behind that sting.
I plant a kiss, now, on every candle that has been lit and melted away but in so doing has lighted a way for others—making for them a path that is a little less dark, contains a few less obstacles and is filled with a little more freedom.
When Michelle woke up after the first night she had spent in Riyadh after more than two years away, she did not know that she had come back to the city at just the right time to witness an important event—a very important event indeed in a life that was already full of changes and quick reverses.
Her day began with a surprise phone call from Lamees. “Go into the bathroom and wash your face with a little cold water,” her friend advised her, so that she could absorb the full impact of what she was about to tell her.
“What’s wrong? Why did you have to wake me up so early?”
“Michelle. Today is Faisal’s wedding.”
Silence from the other end of the line.
“Michelle! Are you there?”
“I’m here.”
“Are you okay?”
“What Faisal? My Faisal?”
“Yes, girl, Faisal the scumbag, no one else!”
“Did he tell you himself or what?”
“Here’s the next whammy—it turns out Nizar is friends with the bride’s brother.”
“Your husband Nizar? Knows the brother of Faisal’s bride? Why didn’t you tell me the minute you heard about that?”
“Are you crazy, to ask me that? I swear I only found out about this today. I came from Jeddah to Riyadh yesterday to attend the wedding of one of Nizar’s sisters. I was really eager to come so that I could see you on the same trip. Nizar told me about the wedding a week ago, but I just got the invitation card today, and when I opened it, my eyes just about flew out of my head. I read the groom’s name maybe one hundred times to be sure it was really the same Faisal.”
“…When did he get engaged?”
“I swear to God, I have no idea, and unfortunately I can’t ask Nizar to ask his friend about it because they are not really close buddies. They just know each other from work. Looks like they probably had a bunch of extra invitations, so they invited me. I don’t expect Nizar knows anything more than I do.”
“So who is this girl he’s marrying?”
“Her last name rings no bell. Nothing impressive.”
“Lamees…”
“Yes, darling?”
“I want you to fix me up with an invite. I’m coming with you.”
“What? No, c’mon, you must be kidding. You going to Faisal’s wedding, are you out of your mind? How would you get through it?”
“Don’t worry about me. I can do it.”
“Michelle, honey, I’m scared. What are you thinking? There’s no reason for you to go and make things harder on yourself.”
“I won’t. In fact, I’ll be giving myself the best closure ever.”
Lamees convinced her husband that she had a splitting headache and couldn’t go to the wedding. She told him she would give her invitation to Michelle, who could go in her place.
Michelle turned the invitation card over and over in her hands as the hairdresser worked on her hair: Announcing the Wedding of our Daughter Shaikhah to our Son Faisal.So this is what it comes to, Faisal? A girl named Shaikhah? What a silly, very silly name!
She did her own makeup and put on a gorgeous Roberto Cavalli gown. It was slinky enough to show off her body perfectly.
At the entrance to the hall, she contemplated the photos of the bride and groom that formed a dazzling display on a table near the door. She studied his expression, trying to gauge how he felt about the woman standing beside him. She happily noted that Shaikhah was totally not his type! She was of a large build, when what he adored was petite women. Her hair wasn’t black—which he preferred—but dyed a range of tints to the point where it looked like a disco globe reflecting a prism of colors. She had a big nose and a mouth with thin lips. What did they have in common with Michelle’s cute nose and seductive lips?
Michelle paid her respects, in the way one does, to his mother, whom she was able to single out after hearing one of the greeters call her “mother of the groom.” She congratulated Um Faisal on the marriage of her son. Faisal’s scent seemed to waft from this woman who had given him birth.
She found a seat near the entrance where the bridal pair would emerge, at the end of the hall facing the dais. She chose her spot carefully, for this evening she had an important and historic mission to accomplish.
She moved her eyes among his sisters, assigning the names she had heard to them. This one looked the oldest, so it must be Norah. That was definitely Sarah, the loud one. This young-looking one over here was apparently Nujud, the prettiest of the bunch, as he always described her. And there was the mother again.
This time, observing his mother from a distance, Michelle remembered her overbearing power and dictatorial ways and also Faisal’s abjectness before her. Michelle would have expected to feel disgust and hate for this woman, and to wish her the worst that life could give, but in fact she found herself respecting her and feeling scorn for her weak son. She noticed that Um Faisal was examining her from afar and seemed to like what she saw. She imagined this woman considering trying to get her for Faisal’s younger brother who hadn’t gotten married yet, or maybe for one of her nephews! Ah, could fate be that twisted?
Michelle had decided that today she would announce her victory over all men. She would rid herself once and for all of whatever bits of Faisal remained in her heart and soul. She found herself heading for the long corridor of people preparing to dance. This was definitely a first: swirling around the dance floor on the day her true love married someone else.
It wasn’t as difficult as she had imagined. She had the sensation that she had lived these moments before in her mind, time and time again—so that this was merely a déjà vu. She felt relaxed and happy. That night she danced and sang as if she were the only person in that enormous hall. It was her own special celebration—a celebration in her honor—to acknowledge her survival and endurance despite everything. It marked her liberation from the slavery of deep-seated traditions, which had subjugated all the other miserable, pitiful women in the dance hall.