Traffic Lights {18}

A dedication to Anonymous (the ones that commented in the previous post!) 

I was thinking of so many ways to avoid my family. The unbearable heat welcomed us as we stepped out of the airplane. The car arrived, Aibileen and I got in. I was tired from the flight and from not getting enough sleep back in Tokyo. The driver took as back to my place which is at The Palm Jumeirah. I got in and suddenly a wave of memories started to haunt me. I don’t miss this place, at all. We got stuck in the traffic, which delayed our arrival by around an hour. Once we arrived, I went upstairs to my bedroom and showered then I got dressed.

Aibileen I’m going to the salon. I said it out loudly so she would hear me.

Alright dear, I’m off to bed. She replied back and I got into the backseat of the car and the driver took me to the Salon. I texted Yousef telling him that I had to fly to Dubai because my sister is getting married.

I looked at my hair; the colour was dyed to a light shade of chestnut brown for the fashion show. So I decided to dye it back to my natural shade of brown – looks something like that. I trimmed the split ends, blow-dried my hair. The manicurists were surprised when they knew I was “The Fat Jawaher” and how I’d transformed into a normal thin person. I sat in my seat and they began cutting my nails. It has been 2 hours since I texted Yousef and he still didn’t reply, there’s only 5 hours difference between us which makes it around 6PM back in Tokyo. Maybe he travelled again, but he would tell me.

Isn’t that you? The manicurist emphasized on the you. That is you! You’re a model!? I looked at the direction she was look at and I saw a lady reading the issue of me on the front cover of Vogue Teen, the lady lowered her arms and looked at me then looked at the cover. I smiled nervously; I could feel my ears ringing and my cheeks turning red. I could hear their low whispers as the ladies looked at me. The manicurist applied the last coat of a deep shade of ruby red on my toes. I waited for my nails to dry then paid, I could feel their eyes burning my skin as they stared at me as I walked towards the exit. That was awkward.

I went back home and unlocked the door to the house and walked in.

Jawaher, is that you?

Yes. I’m hungry, I hope lunch is ready. I walked across the hallway and to the dining room where the food was prepared and Aibileen was pouring some juice in the cups.

I just got off the phone with your uncle. He says he urgently wants to see you tonight by 7 at his place.

Urgently? I hope everything’s all right.

He seemed rather demanding. He said that your cousins and relatives would be there too. I guess he’s throwing a party for you? Or perhaps for your bride-to-be sister.

Interesting…

Your hair looks beautiful. You remind me of your mother. She had the exact same shade. I smiled at her comment. We sat down and had lunch and I told her about what happened to me earlier when I was at the salon.

That’s what you wanted; you should’ve known you’d get such responses. I could hear the annoyance in her voice.

I got dressed and tied my hair into a sleek straight ponytail, and applied the tiniest amount of makeup and some nude lipstick. 

Aibileen figured it would be best if I would go there on my own. I was on my way to my uncle’s house; I wanted to be there on time although every cell in my body rejected the idea of going there. My heart suddenly began pounding, beating harder and stronger. I could hear the beats out loud. The driver drove in to my uncle’s house, he parked the car by the main entrance. I got out of the car and walked to the door. The place seemed empty, until the maid escorted me to where they all sat.

Everyone was there. Everyone. Boys, girls from the babies to teenagers to adults and some elderly people, some I did not know and some I recognized. The room hushed as they all saw me.

I smiled, nervously. Essalam 3alaikm.(translation: hello) I waited for a response, but heard none.

J.. Jawaher? I could see the disgusted look on my stepmother’s face as she pronounced my name.

Na3am.(Yes.) I smiled softly. Yet no one was welcoming me. No one stood up for me, to greet me, or even the slightest gesture: a smile, was not on their faces. Instead they were all shocked by my appearance.

Mnoo 3zamch?(Who invited you?)

Ana. (Me.) My uncle spoke, walking towards me. He stood right in front of me. I was going to say hello but he interrupted me, avoiding any contact between the two of us.

Don’t you dare touch me. His breathing became unsteady, suddenly louder. He found out…  

The next second I could feel his hand slapping my face really hard, turning it to the other side. The women gasped in fear.

I feel so pitiful... Tears are rising up and suffocating my throat. But I won’t cry, because it isn’t something to cry about.

Everything he said muted out. I could only hear my heartbeats. He was so furious, he grabbed me by my arms and shook me hard.

YOU SOLD YOUR REPUTATION; YOU SOLD YOUR BODY FOR A FEW SHOTS. IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT TO BE KNOWN FOR? YOU BRING NOTHING BUT SHAME TO THIS FAMILY. YOU PUT OUR NAME INTO DIRT, JUST LIKE YOUR BEHAVIOUR. MA 3NDICH KARAMAH? 9DG INNICH W 8ALEELAT ADAB.(You truly have no dignity and you’re rude).  Their tongues like pistols, trying to trigger out wonders that are going to break me down, break me down into someone they could step onto and rise above the dirt. But my body and my mind resist each bullet, shielding myself from them. Bulletproof.

It went on, and on. I felt the world muting out and I wished it would just open up and swallow me. I didn’t know when he stopped talking, but I just walked out. I walked out on to the streets. I kept on walking. My tears wouldn’t stop falling. He slapped me back to life, suddenly everything was clear. What I did was a shameful sin, and every word he said was absolutely right. I’ve been such a fool, what have I done? I kept on walking; I couldn’t stand it, too many things happening in one day.

I walked all the way back home, which was roughly about 11Kms. It took me hours. Aibileen was waiting for me by the porch.

What happened? What’s wrong Jawaher tell me? What happened there? She gasped. Your face… I avoided looking at her, so I walked past her and went to my room. I locked the door and removed my shoes. Parts of feet were bleeding badly and the rest had blisters from the walking. I lied down on my bed and cried myself to sleep, like I always did when I am here in Dubai, but this time I didn’t cry because of my figure. I cried because I had enough of this world…