Ameena and her mother were invited to her mother’s friend’s
house. They sat in the brightly lit majlis, with its grandeur chandeliers,
grandeur Persian carpet, and grandeur couches laid at every end of every wall,
before a grandeur table, which sat a grandeur tray with grandeur tea cups, and
grandeur tea kettles.
Grandeur women were sprinkled all around the couches, with
their grandeur makeup and grandeur shoes and grandeur dresses and grandeur
shoes. Ameena was talking to a grandeur young lady named Layla. They were
discussing important grandeur matters and important grandeur problems. Like,
that one girl in Layla’s class who wouldn’t shut up about their group project,
and that one time her not-so-grandeur nanny almost burned her grandeur dress
while ironing. It was a grandeur nightmare.
They then went on to discuss less-grandeur matters. Such as
Ameena’s life. Ameena talked about her not-so-grandeur aspirations to further
her studies, and also not-so-grandeur books.
Grandeur Layla responded in her grandeur way: “I don’t know
why you bother with all these books.” She said. “Studying and working will get
you nowhere. Trust me. Tomorrow you’ll be a married a housewife.”
“But I hope I continue with my work and my studies,” Said
Ameena “I enjoy it very much. Who knows where I could be in the future.” Ameena
smiled and Layla turned her head back
and laughed her grandeur laugh “We’ll see. Once he comes knocking, you’ll
forget about all of this. After all, a woman’s college degree is only a… well,”
She said with her hand decorated with grandeur bracelets and rings, and
grandeur fuchsia nail polish, under her grandeur chin contemplatively. “A
precautionary thing, y’know? In case, God forbid, you lose your father or, God
forbid, God forbid, you get a divorce or something.” She turned back to the
grandeur mini cupcake she’d been carefully picking tiny pieces of, and
graciously placing into her lips with careful grandeur.
How Ameena hated grandeur gatherings. She turned to her
mother, lost in conversation with the grandeur hostess, who blended quiet well
with the grandeur furniture. She looked down at the ostentatiously dressed
grandeur tea cup in her hands. With its grandeur gold rims and intricate grandeur
floral petals, that contrasted with her pale blue kaftan.
Ameena turned back to Grandeur Layla and said “So, you’re
not planning on working then?” Layla shook her had quickly and said “God, no!
Not at all. I’m a woman, thank the Lord, I don’t need to work.” She finished
her cupcake, and folded its paper cup in a perfect, grandeur, little square,
and held it, before saying with grandeur “And you’re going to work, huh? Who’ll
marry you then? You’ll be single forever.” She giggled with grandeur softly as
she got up to place her little folded paper cup in the decorated, grandeur bin.
“Tea? Anyone?” She
said nodding to every grandeur woman in the room. “Half a cup, please.” Said a
heavy and heavily dressed grandeur woman. “Thank you my dear,” She said “Such
manners, such morality! Oh, Amal, you are so lucky to have a daughter like
Lamees. A role-model to all these girls, truly.”
She turned to Grandeur Amal, Grandeur Layla’s mother and said “You know, my son just graduated from
University of… Mona! Mona..” She turned to her grandeur daughter “Mona, what’s
that university that Ahmad graduated from?”
“University of Colorado!” Replied Grandeur Mona, elongating C o l a r a d o to make sure she was
grandeur clear. “Yes! Yes! Colalador! From America. He studied Business, and
he’s continuing his masters right there! Oh, he’d be wonderful for little
Lamees here!”
“My name is Lay—“ Layla began when her mother suddenly said
“Oh, I know your son, habeebti! He’s my brother’s son’s cousin’s friend.
Respected among his brothers, Ma’sha’Allah.” She smiled as she nodded to her
own grandeur lie that made no grandeur sense.
The room smelled of three things: Grandeur tea, grandeur dukhoon,
and the heavy stench of grandeur absurdity. The kind that sticks in your
grandeur head. But GrandeurLayla sat
with her grandeur back straight, and her grandeur nose so high up, it almost
scraped the grandeur chandelier that she almost outshined.
The two grandeur women smiled. The grandeur arrangement has
been grandeur-made.
Ameena slipped her phone out of her little black purse
laying on the other side of the couch, away from the grandeur Chanels and thegrandeur
Lady Diors who were seated comfortably next to their owners. “When can we go?
I’m tired.” She texted her mother, just as a grandeur woman sat next to her and
almost blinded her with bright layers of grandeur necklace and grandeur rings,
and suddenly said “You must be Huda’s daughter, yes? You’re still in
university?”
“Oh, no, I’ve graduated two years ago.” Said Ameena, laying
her phone face down on the grandeur space where Grandeur Layla had been
sitting.
“Really? So you must be engaged, huh sweetie?” She raised
her grandeur eyebrows and grandeur-smiled.
“No, I’m… erm, single?” She shifted in her seat
uncomfortably.
“Oh, how unfortunate. So How old are you?” She grandeur-squinted
and moved grandeur-closer.
“I’m turning twenty three in June.”
The grandeur woman shook her with grandeur apology and said
“It’s what Allah wanted, habeebti, don’t worry, they always come, even to girls
who are a little too grown up like you.” She grandeur-winked. The woman turned
away from her, and whispered to the equally shiny grandeur woman on her left,
and said “Poor girl has no hope by now. She’s old. No man would want a twenty
two year old, a month shy from twenty three. He might as well marry his own
mother! “
She then felt her phone vibrate, and turned her attention
away. It was a text from her mother: “Two minutes. The woman next to me is
admiring her fat son for me.” She turned
to her mother and saw her smiling as she was saying something. The grandeur
woman zipped her lips together, raised her grandeur nose ambitiously high,
turned away in her grandeur demeanor and then frowned in all her grandeur. The grandeur like to take their grandeur time.
Even with their expressions, you see.
A few minutes later and they made their awkward and horridly
long salams before leaving. “What did you say to the woman?” Asked Ameena,
driving her mother home. “She was telling me how fantastic her fat, 2.4 GPA son
was, and so I told her about my daughter’s 3.8 GPA and her promotion.” Replied
her mother, as she scrolled through her instagram page.
“What promotion?” Ameena
asked in confusion.
“Oh, I don’t know, Ameena. I lied. Her son’s fat! You think
I’d let my daughter marry a fat boy!” She said, as she scrolled through her
instagram page.
“What grandeur woman would.” Said Ameena
