"Hi there. Would you like to try our new grilled chicken combo that comes with a passion fruit iced drink today?" she asked chipperly.
"I wish," Nadira smiled politely, thinking of the less that twenty-dollar amount sitting on her debit card right now. She would need that amount and more for gas and not to mention her father's anger if she saw her wasting money on café food when she had food at the house. "But no, I can't," she declined politely.
Nodding with a smile, the girl looked as if she was going to turn away before she froze and blinked as if a thought suddenly came to her. "Actually, you are in luck we are giving away one promotional meal today, just wait here a second and I will grab you a free one."
Turning away, the girl rushed back to the café.
Nadira sat in disbelief until the girl came back, holding a tray with a sandwich and a pink and white frosty drink.
Setting down the food on the table, the girl stepped back. "Here you go, enjoy."
Thanking the girl, Nadira looked at the food and immediately felt her stomach growl at the sight. She was indeed very hungry, but it was a feeling she had grown used to for the past year. Ever since her father restricted her diet in the hopes it would help with her marriage prospects, the constant state of hunger was normal. Taking a hesitant bite of the sandwich, Nadira tried to control the ridiculous smile of satisfaction that pulled at her lips. Her luck was definitely changing.
*
Waking up, Nadira stretched in her bed, her hand accidentally hitting the headboard as she did. Relaxing, she lay their limply as she thought of last night's vivid dream. They were practically every night for a week now and each night a different place. Sometimes she woke up laying in the bottom of a rowboat in the middle of a calm black sea surrounded by stars, sometimes she appeared in a bed draped in soft, colorful bedding in the middle of a vast, lonely desert, or sometimes in a beautiful enchanting night forest. Although all the dreams varied in places, each dream was the same. Unlike the first time, she no longer heard the voice from the mist, but she never doubted his presence. Each time the mist surrounded her bed, she knew without a doubt he was there somewhere, that undeniable male presence hovering around her watching. She found herself looking around from her bed or boat, squinting to see into the thick pale mist surrounding her but never daring to step from the safe perimeter from where she was because she knew without the need of being told that if she were to step down from her designated spot and enter the mist, the dream would change and she feared it would be for the worst.
Sitting up in bed, Nadira swung her legs over to the side and stopped. With one leg still on the bed and the other hanging down, she could see a large bruise on the inside of her thigh. This was the third bruise she found this week. What was going on?
When she found the first bruise, Nadira tried looking up what it might be online, but after she typed in all of her problems: occasional insomnia, poor eating habits, and stress, the first thing that came up was that it could be cancer. Why was that always the go-to option? Every single website mentioned some sort of cancerous disease before they would list any other possible scenario.
Nadira stood up with an unladylike groan just as her door swung open.
Holding the doorknob with one hand and a dry-cleaning bag with her other, her mother stood in her doorway, casting Nadira a severe look. "Are you still in bed, you lazy girl? Get up, the Gurung's will be over in a few hours. Come down and help me clean," she demanded as she stepped into her room and laid the bagged dress on the foot of her unmade bed. "Your sister was kind enough to let you have one of her old dresses. You will wear this tonight," she decreed. "Come on, hurry up."
With no time to consider the so-called generosity of her sister's hand-me-down dress, Nadira grabbed a pair of pajama pants and followed her mother downstairs. That afternoon they were supposed to be meeting one of her mother's work colleague's family and their bachelor son. Since the moment her mother informed her of the mandatory interview, Nadira dreaded it. Why did they insist on these constant demoralizing marriage interviews? Not once did they ever result in the outcome her parents wanted and always caused a fight between her and her parents. They wanted her to accept practically any offer but Nadira staunchly refused. She would not go from one trapped life to another simply because her parents wanted to brag to family and friends that they got both of their daughters successfully married off.
Helping her mother clean and prepare a light lunch, Nadira endured Candrii's constant reminder of how she should act when the Gurung's arrived: make sure to smile, offer to serve the tea, make direct eye contact, try not to talk about school too much if you don’t have to. It made her want to scream, but instead, Nadira took a deep breath, she knew what she needed to do to end this, it worked on all the previous "candidates," and there was no reason it wouldn't work again. A pain in her chest caused her hand to automatically seek out the comfort of the stone hanging from around her neck when she inadvertently thought of the one man, she didn't use her tactic on, Kedar. With him she had tried, she truly tried, but it obviously wasn't enough.
Taking the stairs back up to her room, she closed her door. Ignoring the orange and blue lehenga dress still sitting on the edge of her bed, Nadira walked to her window that overlooked a small backyard and the backs of other people's properties. Looking up to the sky, she fiddled with the stone necklace, tracing her fingers around the brass encasing.
"Why do they refuse to understand me?" she whispered.
Warm almost unnoticeable heat pulsed against her fingertips from the stone.
"I understand you," the voice said.
Chapter 3
"What do you do?" Mrs. Gurung asked, her eyes boring into her as she sat on the other side of her son Lishan.
Distractedly, Nadira answered. "I am finishing up my Bachelor's in Art History, and next year I will move on to graduate school in the same field."
Nadira didn't pay attention to the older woman's narrowing gaze at her answer, an answer she knew the older woman didn't want to hear, her own thoughts were too far gone. Nothing in this room could take her mind off the stone necklace lying on the floor near the wall she threw it against earlier.
It spoke.
It actually spoke. It was the same exact voice from her dream, she knew that without a moment's doubt.
She could hear that gravelly voice in her head as the stone pulsed with each spoken syllable.
"Do you think you can manage a household and the children and work?" Mrs. Gurung stressed, obviously not liking Nadira’s last answer.
Refraining from clasping her hands any tighter in her lap, Nadira smiled wanly at the woman, knowing it accentuated the dark circles and shadows of her gaunt face. Though most of the shadows had faded under eyes, Nadira applied a little "help" to them with the aid of makeup and purposely made sure her hair was barely styled before she came downstairs. And with the final touch of her mother's favorite shade of bright plum lipstick, a color that was not at all flattering for Nadira, her foolproof plan was in place.