Something about the comical expression of surprise on the artist’s face made Zhang laugh. Once she started she couldn’t stop, and suddenly she didn’t care how this evening looked to an outsider. Hadia was right.
I need to relax and enjoy the good times.
And there is no way that my mother is going to out-dance me at my own bachelorette party.
Zhang leaned down, picked up the box that held her own green, somewhat transparent costume and asked, “Lil, how did you ever think of this?”
Lil glanced over her shoulder at the friend she was dragging behind her and said, “I knew you were worried about tomorrow. I wanted to make you laugh.”
Zhang squeezed her young friend’s hand. Goal achieved. She’d actually forgotten to worry about Rachid’s emotional withdrawal, Ghalil’s recent threat and the very dangerous risk she was going to take while everyone else enjoyed dinner the next day. Even if it didn’t last, Lil had provided her with enough of a distraction that she’d forgotten everything else and, for just a few moments, had simply been a nervous bride.
Lil started shedding her clothing as soon as she reached the powder room, so Zhang hastily closed the door between them. Zhang turned when she heard Abby chuckling behind her.
Abby said, “You never actually get used to it.”
Zhang nodded with understanding and said, “And yet, I can’t imagine today without her.”
Abby’s smile turned teary in a flash. “Me either.”
“Are you okay, Abby?” Zhang asked as amusement turned to concern.
Her friend wiped a stray tear away quickly and flashed a brave smile. “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m so emotional lately.”
“Weddings can do that,” Zhang said with sympathy. “Especially weddings that cut your own honeymoon short. Thank you for being here, Abby.”
“You might not be thanking me after you’ve seen me dance,” Abby joked, and the mood lightened again.
Zhang thought, Nothing will ever top seeing my mother joyfully belly dancing in a department store harem outfit.
Lil burst out of the powder room in her bold-red costume and said, “And now for henna!”
Zhang laughed out loud and hugged Lil.
OK, Mother belly dancing while decorated in henna might require a photograph, because even I’m not going to believe this story tomorrow.
Chapter Sixteen
It was impossible not to compare the somber marriage-contract ceremony with what modern women in Bejiing often enjoyed. A wedding wasn’t supposed to happen all in one day. These legal documents and the gift exchanges shouldn’t be meshed into one event.
Is today even an auspicious date? Since she hadn’t been given a choice of day, she hadn’t checked the Chinese calendar. Sometimes it’s better not to know.
Lucky or not, it was her wedding day. There should be fireworks. Pranks. More than one dress for me to change into. Not much was matching how she’d always imagined the day would go. Except that the result is that I’ll be married to the man I love.
Zhang looked around the rectangular table of what appeared to be a conference room in the palace. Her parents were seated on one side beside her. Across from her sat Rachid and his father.
Both the king and Zhang’s father were intently reviewing the contracts that Rachid’s attorneys had prepared in both Arabic and Chinese. Her signature would be required at the bottom of the document, but the terms of the dowry and bride price were something that the eldest man in each family had to agree to. Some things were best not challenged, and family honor was one of them, as far as Zhang was concerned. She could have demanded that all of this was her decision to make, but her father was discussing the contract with the king of Najriad and he looked proud to be doing so.
Before either father signed, the king gave her parents a thick red envelope of cash. Rachid then presented her parents with a large gift box of gold coins and jewelry. The king presented Zhang with an equally large gift box of gold jewelry and diamond necklaces. Her mother gave her blankets, a new tea set and more gold.
When all but their signatures were required, King Amir asked Zhang to sit beside Rachid. He stood above them and asked Zhang if she joined into this marriage of her own free will. A week ago that question would have posed a problem, but now Zhang answered yes with sincerity.
The king spoke briefly about how Rachid would honor his wife by caring for her and being her caretaker for all time. He turned to Zhang and gave her the same speech. It was her duty to honor her husband and to be his caretaker for all time. If she agreed, all they had to do was sign the two contracts.
There was no laughter or kissing, just a quick signature and an exchange of rings. Zhang might have been able to handle the rigidity of the ceremony had Rachid smiled at her once. Was he also thinking of all the things their wedding was not?
It was not part of a weeklong celebration. The dinner that evening would replace what might otherwise have been a large reception. The next day promised to be a quiet gathering of friends and family.
Maybe that’s all you can ask for when you’ve publicly embarrassed both families on a global level.
Both sets of parents excused themselves after the contracts had been signed. The king bent and kissed Zhang on the head, saying something in Arabic that she didn’t understand. Her parents shook Rachid’s hand and said they were retiring to their room before dinner.
Alone with her new husband, Zhang was full of equal amounts fear and hope. Is this where he pulls me to him and kisses me senseless? Possibly deciding to consummate our vows on that sturdy table behind us?
Maybe he will declare his love for me and tell me that he considered those vows binding. You’re mine, Zhang, he’ll say in that hot, demanding way of his, and I’ll pretend at first that I don’t want to be and then I’ll let him convince me.
When Rachid stood silently before her, Zhang thought, Or we’ll just stare at each other in a long, painful silence.
“Dinner is in an hour in the main hall,” Rachid said.
And?