Clash Of Cultures

43. Unspoken Words - Part 2

Noor

By the time I reached the ER, my arm and hand felt like they were on fire. The ER attending thought that despite the discomfort it was likely just a first degree burn on my arm, thanks to the thick white coat I was wearing. But the couple of blisters that were developing on the back of my hand likely indicated a second degree burn.

"Hopefully, this will heal without scarring, but I'll call the burn specialist anyway", the ER attending said as he put a liberal layer of a honey infused medicated cream and then wrapped my arm lightly in a bandage.

"Thankfully, its your left hand", Samantha chimed in.

I nodded at her. It was fortunate that my dominant right hand had not been affected. But now that the pain had subsided a bit, the absurdity of what had just happened was sinking it. It had been so inappropriate of Samantha to send me in to the room when just a few hours before she and the attending had succumbed to the parent's xenophobic request to not let me participate in her child's care.

As if reading my mind, Samantha said to me, "Noor, I am really sorry about what happened. I should have said something this morning as well. But nobody else did, so I kept quiet too. I realize how wrong that was"

"Thanks Samantha, I'll be ok", I told her in an even voice. I wasn't about to let her see how badly shaken I was.

"I know you will be because you are a strong woman. But I will still report this to patient relations. Meanwhile, is there anyone I can call for you, while you wait here?"

"I'm good, I can call someone. Thanks!"

When Samantha stepped out of the room I leaned my head back on the elevated head end of the ER bed and closed my eyes. Samantha had called me 'strong'. I had been called that before, but I also realized that it was really just a code word for not feeling anything. It was a way to glamorize suppressing your emotions and maintaining the status quo, without making anyone else uncomfortable.

It was exhausting being the strong one all the time. Just as it was exhausting being the one who was always expected to do the 'right thing'. In my culture, the 'right thing' to do was to put others' needs above yours, to let your parents decide your future, to have unquestioning loyalty to the societal norms. 

I looked at the date on my phone. I had 5 days till my wedding, 5 days to be 'strong' and do the 'right thing'. The woman who had come to the US almost a year ago would have been too timid to take any path other than the one that was laid out for her by the society she had been raised in. Study...marry a man approved by your parents...have kids...live happily ever after. There was no room for following your heart, or taking the road less well traveled, or not having a plan at all. 

But that was before my world had been turned upside down by a man who would influence every aspect of my life yet disappear without any reason. He had made me fall in love with him, and then vanished. Only to reappear for a fleeting moment yesterday, make me question my future, and then vanish again. 

I knew I should call my parents or Omar to be with me. But after everything I had gone through today, giving them lengthy explanations about what had happened and why it happened, was just not something I had the mental bandwidth for. 

I opened my phone. The first screen was of the messages from Salman, that I had been scrolling through that morning.

There was truly only one person I yearned for, and I didn't even know where he was.

I remembered how I had wished he had been with me yesterday during the awards ceremony. And the  moment I had finally seen him, when nothing and no one else had mattered.