the velvet box II

It was hard to think of her feet getting any bigger, but they were; So big and pale that they looked like dough spread on a kitchen counter. How she hated walking into shoe shops, curling her toes in as she asked for a size 39 instead of 41. She would be a size 39 though, if it weren’t for that bunion.

41 is the theme of this New Year, it seemed. The year when she would finally come clean about her size 41 feet, when she would have to blow her 41st birthday candles. Or 41 candles. 41 candles would need a bigger cake though, a 2-tier. She stared at Siham’s fingernails as they deftly worked on her toe nails. They were bitten so bad that she almost had no fingernails at all. As they say, the carpenter’s door is off its hinges. Epsom salt and warm soapy water were supposed to help the bride relax, but Aida’s feet were fraught. There was no way to relax, not while Siham stared at her with so much fascination, kneaded her feet with this much zest. The girl spoke about marriage like she would about a pilgrimage to Mecca, like it was the ultimate sacred fulfillment.

2019 will God willing be the year when I find a husband too… Bordeaux or Blush Pink, Doctora Aida?

 I’m not a Doctora.

Aren’t you a big lawyer? Then you are a Doctora, she said, wagging her over-plucked eyebrows.

Ali hadn’t called to tell her the ring had gone missing until now, but that didn’t halt the preparations. The sheikh and guests were after all expected by sunset. On the ground floor, cleaners dangled outside windows wiping the farthest edges of the glass, the florist clacked her high heels across the marble floors as she tried out different floral arrangements around the house, and the heavy cooking smells escaped the trembling lids in the crowded kitchen. On the second floor, her mother flip-flopped from bathroom to bedroom in head curlers and a black face mask, while her father sat in his pajamas rustling with the dailies against the high-pitched voice of the TV presenter on screen. Yet the worst were the doorbells. Every ring brought in the ululations from every direction, like a fleet of police vans sounding off their sirens. At the center of it all was Aida, contending with doughy feet and Siham’s wagging eyebrows.

She wasn’t used to this kind of visibility either. The theme of the past decade had decidedly been, The Dreaded Spinster with a Cupboard Full of Spanx. Years of showing up to family gatherings only to be approached by aunts who’d ask her how she was as if there was reason to grieve. She had thought Ali’s marriage proposal would rid her of it all, but no. How would she explain those Spanx to him when he eventually undressed her? The thought of him, her, and the Spanx alone together left her heart twanging like a rubber band.

I think Blush Pink is more bridal ya Doctora.

She couldn’t blame Siham for assuming she’s a Doctora. Her parents had taken every certificate of participation and appreciation, every proof of degree and pedigree since she was a four-year old and hung them in elegant gold frames, arranged like a shrine around her bed. For all their worth though, these degrees did not hold the cure. Sure they advanced her career, but they certainly didn’t advance her personal life. They didn’t stop Tante Olfat from seeing right through her and estimating her worth at a pavé ring; Through her shoes and right through these Spanx. What was she going to do with that ring? Bury it under a tree? Throw it under a speeding car? Gift it to a stranger? Come clean about it? Whatever it was, there wasn’t much time left. She had to act now or forever hold her peace.

You know tea bags work well on tired eyes, Siham said.

         Yeah.

I mean, tea bags because they’re warm. Cucumbers work too, if you prefer.

There was a frantic knock on the door, then the thick freckled wrist of Aida’s Mum appeared.

Aida, Jacques has been trying to reach you. Pick up, she said peering in, Everything OK?

 Doctora Aida is tired, I think, said Siham, I told her I’ll get her teabags, but she doesn’t want.

Aida dialled Jacques’ number.

Ayeeda, I call so many times.

Sorry, was in the shower.

I come maintenant. Just want to tell you I ‘ave four ‘elpers wiz me. I need ze room to be void when we come.

Void?

Vide, vide. I like to fucus.

Fuck us? Oh, it’ll just be me. AWW! Siham was scrubbing the bunion with a pumice stone. Are you insane?

Me?

No Jacques, I’m sorry. Don’t worry, of course we will let you focus.

Trés bien. See you soon.

Let’s leave the bunion for now, said Siham.

Aida watched her recoil on her small stool, sorting through her nail tool kit with barely a sound before pulling out the most benign item she could think of, the toe separator.

I’m sorry I shouted at you, Siham.

We just want you to relax today, ya Doctora… I mean ya aroussa.

Could Ali have not realized yet that the ring was gone? What if he had realized and was now filing a police report for theft? And what if the police had rounded up everyone working at the Night Pharoah over this? She couldn’t stand for it. She was a lawyer after all. No, she had enough to worry about. She can’t worry about others, not right now. She craned her neck towards the window and saw a half truck had stopped by their house. As the men off-loaded the patio heaters, ululations returned, sounding off from all directions.

I think I need teabags for my eyes, Siham.

She waited for Siham to leave her room to remove the toe separators. With the coast clear, she grabbed the car key, phone, the velvet box, and dashed out, down the corridor.

Where are you going? She heard a voice call. It was her father, Come here, I need to speak to you, he said.

∞

He rummaged through the small safe he kept at the bottom of his cupboard while she picked the lint out of his bedcover. The little bag he returned with was elegantly embossed in gold.

What’s this, Baba?

Open it.

She peeped in and found a velvet box. Her heart sank. When she did not move, he reached into the bag and placed the velvet box on her lap.

What is this?

Open it.

The diamond-encrusted necklace inside was custom-made, just for her. A scale, for his lawyer daughter, with 1-carat diamonds on each side. She stared at the necklace now lying limp in the palm of her hand and ran her finger over its surface. The workmanship was flawless.

Are you going to try it on?

∞

In the car, she rolled the windows down and let the cold air bear down on her face like a wet cloth. There were no signs of life down North Teseen and up South Teseen Streets save for the twinkling of remaining Christmas lights and strings of cotton on window fronts. Other than that, the home shutters were firmly closed and the balconies overlooking the highway were deserted. Whether their owners were out celebrating last night or had chosen to stay home, recess could be felt everywhere. It was a time to stop cussing and stop praying, to reset the button and hope for something better to come this way. Up and down these streets she went over and over again in a mind loop: Bury it under a tree, throw it under a speeding car, gift it to a stranger. She had to go for one, now. She parked the car under a big tree and got out, the velvet box clutched in her fist. Pulling her Spanx up, she leaned forward and with freshly manicured fingers, started to dig a hole. Now with the velvet box buried, she straightened up and stared at the small mound of soil. No, maybe leaving it out for someone to find it would be best. An act of charity. She unearthed it, put it under the tree and walked off, then looked back again. No, she should probably just come clean. Yeah, come clean. She pulled her Spanx back up, sat down on the prickly grass, and dialed Ali’s number.