"Of course, when me and my husband do decide it is time for children," Nadira let that statement hang in the air for a fraction of a second too long, allowing the words to sink in fully before continuing. "I should already be graduated with my Ph.D. giving me the opportunity to lighten my workload," she answered politely.
"Can you cook?" It was the father who asked this time, he tone no less ridiculing than his wife.
"Of course, she can," her mother spoke up for her. Nadira could hear the edge of insulted anger in her mother's tone and was amazed to see her keep it underneath the courteous smile. "As I stated earlier when you arrived, she was the one who prepared lunch," her mother waved her hand at the spread of food lying on the coffee table. Hot rolled chapati bread lay piled on one dish, while steaming bowls of red curry sabji, and yellow sabji along with sautéed eggplant and roasted chicken legs.
Sitting in the middle of the inquisitors was the man this meeting was for, Lishan Gurung. A pudgy round face man that looked like some sort of odd cartoon character, Nadira could hardly stop staring at the man who stared right back at her with what she suspected might be a different sort of fascination. His face was so round, at first she thought it was swollen or deformed. Almost like a caricature drawing, his hair sat in the middle of his overly bulbous head in a way that reminded her of a pumpkin wearing a toupee. If her thoughts weren't currently hijacked already, Nadira would have laughed at this entire scene. How dare these people interview anyone for this weird looking man, and how dare he let them?! He was so unfortunate he should take any woman who would have him without a single complaint.
Giving off a small grunt at her mother's answer, Lishan's father leaned forward, forcing Nadira to look at him directly. "What were her grades like in school? And we would like to see baby photos."
At this point, her father blessedly stepped in and politely but firmly denied their offer to show any sort of photos since this was the first meeting and then going on to explain her academic achievements.
Unable and certainly unwilling to take much more, Nadira stood up from the sofa, ignoring her mother's glare she could feel on the side of her face.
"Let me refill these," she said, bending at the knee to grab the empty cups of tea off the table. Straightening up, she walked into the kitchen.
Turning on the hot water boiler, she braced herself against the counter, giving herself finally a moment to think about what happened upstairs. Did she imagine that voice? Was the lack of food and sleep catching up to her finally? No, that couldn't be it, she frowned just as the water began to boil. For the past week, she had been getting great sleep, so that couldn't be the case. Shaking her head, she straightened from the counter and grabbed the can of loose tea leaves, adding just a teaspoon to each cup before filling it with boiling water.
Nadira felt her mother's presence before she heard the footsteps, putting the kettle back on its charge station Nadira turned just as her mother stepped into the kitchen.
"What do you think you are doing?" she hissed, fury etched into her stern face.
"I am making tea," Nadira answered placidly. She was proud of herself for not reacting as livid disbelief passed over her mother's face.
"You know damn well what I mean!"
Beyond tired, Nadira gave her mother a rare level look. "Are you actually serious about this marriage candidate? Because I can tell you I am not. I cannot possibly imagine being married to such a hideous man much less being associated with his repugnant family."
Nadira watched her mother and could see her waiver at the logic of her words before disappearing under a firm resolve, and Nadira knew right then and there what the woman was really angry about. For her mother, the appearance of control was far greater than the amount of actual control she processed over her own life. When family or friends were in the vicinity, Candrii Razdan needed to appear in full perfect control.
"It does not matter if you don't like the boy or his family, neither do I—"
"Then why did you accept this meeting?" Nadira demanded, cutting her off. "Surely, you were given a picture of Lishan." Or was she so desperate to see her married off she accepted this meeting without even seeing one, Nadira thought?
"I was—but—the photo," Candrii faltered, looking away from Nadira as she tried to explain. "I was given one…but I don't…"
Crossing her arms, Nadira gave her mother a knowing look of exasperation. "They probably gave you a fake or from someone else in their family, because they know how hideous their son is." Seeing her mother's pride ignite in her eyes, Nadira took a deep breath and tried to calmly come at this from another way. "Please, mom, this is insulting for not only me but you and dad too. I know you really want to see me married off and out of your house," Nadira wisely avoided saying the word "desperately" instead. "But these people are too much."
Pulling back her shoulders and lifting her chin, Candrii gave Nadira an intimidating look of finality. "That is no longer the point. Of course, we will not even consider them, but we will go back into the living room and maintain a sense of propriety. I will not have them going back and gossiping about us to all of their friends."
Knowing there was no point to argue, Nadira tried not to let the hopelessness deflate her completely. Nodding silently, she gathered the teacups on the tray and followed her mother back into the living room. She could feel everyone's eyes on her as her mother sat back in her spot on the couch while Nadira sat all the cups back into the appropriate spots on the coffee table.
Nadira was setting the tray to the side when Mrs. Gurung spoke again.
"One last question Nadira, and this is important. Have you had past relationships?" The shrewd look the woman gave her was so menacing, it was if she was already convinced that Nadira was going to confess that she had a string of previous lovers.
It was as if all the sound in the room was vacuumed out by the mere insult of the question. Glancing at her father, Nadira could see him lurch in his chair as if shot in the chest as he processed the highly intrusive question. Her mother, on the other hand, needed no time to process her own response. Fury so dark and pure shown in her mother's dark eyes, Nadira had to stop herself from stepping back from it. With just a tiny glance, her mother conveyed all Nadira wanted to hear—that she was excused to leave this travesty of a meeting.
Mumbling a polite excuse to leave, she left the cretins sitting on the opposite couch and quickly made her way up the stairs and back to her room.
Opening the door, she eyed the stone necklace lying on the floor across the room. The reddish cognac tone of the stone seemed to glow against the drab beige carpet of her room. Closing the door quietly, she tiptoed silently towards it. Her instincts blared against her cautious nature, warning her to leave it where it lay.