says, “Come on, don’t cry. When you find out that I’m never going to be out of your life, you’ll regret these tears. You’ll be like, I wish I’d said good-bye and good riddance to him!”
“I’m not crying. I’m laughing.” I break away from his hug and show him my face, tearless. “Yeah, right, as if Sarah asked you to marry her.”
“She actually did. She cleared it all with her parents and then invited me to dinner with them and pretended to pop it out of a fortune cookie. A slip of paper that said Will you marry me?” He says all this seriously.
“You’re joking. You’re the one who was after Sarah from day one!”
“But she was the one who said I was a keeper.” He grins and puts his hands on his hips. Dad loops his arm through his left one, and Mom loops her arm through his right one and then holds out her arm for me to loop mine through.
“Okay, let’s do this. Walk me down, guys.”
As we walk down the stairs, I’m kind of in awe of Sarah. My sister-in-law-to-be.
To have that kind of guts is goals.
* * *
After the pictures, Tats and I head to the guest sign-in table.
We get there as several people walk toward it from the driveway, and we see more leaving the parking field and getting ready to cross the road.
I turn to a fresh page in the guest book and prepare myself to receive guests.
I realize I’m actually standing taller now, more proudly, and I let the smile I feel take over my face.
The first few families all have girls around my age—Aalya, Varisha, Lybah, and Hanaa—but I don’t know any of them. I realize from their dads and moms exclaiming in delight at how much I’ve grown that they’re people our family used to hang around with in Chicago, when I lived there as a kid. It feels strange that there’s this whole bunch of girls I could have played with long ago that I don’t remember now. At their parents’ encouragement, they lean in to hug me, and I appreciate the way they do it so lightly, so respectfully. I give them all a smile as they go to find seats.
After that, it’s a blur of people coming, smiling, signing, going to sit down.
The blur is interrupted by the arrival of family from Dad’s side, including Imran and Adnan, who pause to take pictures with me and their wives. From Mom’s side, only Amu and his wife, Khaleh, who packs so much sweetness into her tiny quiet self, were able to come to the nikah. The rest of Mom’s family live too far—Mom’s other brother and my little cousins are in Dubai with Teta—so they’re coming to the reception next year, insha’Allah.
Then Soon-Lee and Thomas arrive, and I run ahead to greet them.
“I missed you so so much!” Soon-Lee is almost jumping up and down while hugging me in her lavender dress—which is officially the cutest thing I’ve seen so far.
We squeal some more as Thomas stands apart with his hands in the pockets of his—are those jeans? With a really nice suit jacket?
“What? Dress jeans are a thing. Look it up.” Thomas shrugs, his hands still in his pockets.
“Just stay away from my dad,” I warn. “Oh my gosh, I have to get a pic of you two. This is going in my personal wedding album.”
I take pics of them posing cutely with each other, and as I’m finishing, I notice someone else who makes me scream again.
Sandra. And Ms. Kolbinsky. Dressed to the nines.
Who knew weddings could be so much fun?
Sandra has on a black pantsuit, which looks perfect on her, while Ms. Kolbinsky is in a raspberry-colored lace dress with a black hat that reminds me of those hats British royalty wear in pics. Fascinators, I think they’re called.
I give them hugs, and Sandra, who’s usually quiet and more of a listener, gives me a quick update on her summer so far, while Ms. Kolbinsky keeps pinching my cheeks, telling me she misses sharing food with me. After I promise her that I’ll be back in Eastspring tomorrow, I lead them all to the table to sign in.
That’s when I remember Sausun. Why wasn’t she with Sandra? “Hey, where’s Sausun? The girl who drove you?”
Sandra points toward the barn. “There. Talking to some guy.”
I stand on my tiptoes to see, and, yup, Sausun is talking to Haytham, with her sister by her side. Her sister