On the scorching wooden floor I stand. At the crusty mirror I stare. Into the small beige room the scorching sunrays seep through. Above the wide window the ticking clock loosely hangs. Upon remembering what is happening today, I shudder.
My fingers quiver as I get a hold of every sleek black metal hairpin I stab into the bottom and top of my bun. Pin after pin after pin. Bun is finally secured and stable, but my heart definitely isn't.
Sixteen long years of waiting for this moment to happen -to change my life. Never, apart from my father, have I met a man. A man that I'm allowed to speak to and touch. A man who is going to cherish and love me. A man chosen for me. A man that would accept me.
This afternoon, I'm given the seed of this opportunity.
Shaking from anxiety or zealousness, I'm not exactly sure, but my mother is definitely experiencing both. She's been checking my every move to ensure that I won't trip, besmirch my dress, eat too much, drink water, run into anybody, or even sweat. Then she would stop and observe her masterpiece. She would hold out her arms to hug me, and I would too, only to remember the perfectness of my appearance that shouldn't get ruined. It was an off-white silky long-sleeved dress that flawlessly fits my small figure, stunning pearl earrings and necklace, and lavishing velvet heels that she convinced me to wear. Her smooth -but sturdy- hands work all kinds of magic when it comes to beauty, apart from the hair, which is my profession. But as I gaze into the mirror, I can't seem to recognize myself. So many layers and products on my face that I started to believe that I'm my mother.
This is not Tara. This is a white-powdered version of Tara.
Gently dropping my hands from my head, I close my brown eyes and take a deep breath. Am I ready? Physically? Yes. Mentally? Yes. Emotionally? I'm still working on it.
"I think it's suitable to go to The Muster right now, Tara. You're 15 minutes late." My mother utters from behind. I flutter my eyes open and give her a phony smile, annoyed that I didn't get to leave on time. "Yes, mother." She takes a step forwards and hands me my light grey robe, and I delicately wear it along with its shawl.
The Muster is where Mates meet for the first time; it gives them privacy and space they need to get to know each other, talk about how serious things are about to change, along with the rules and laws that shouldn't be broken -no matter what the circumstances are. From what my mother told me, the Female Mate is always supposed to be 16 years of age, whereas the Male Mate should be 25 years old. This is to ensure that there is always going to be an older guardian who looks over the Matrimony –excluding the parents. I've never met any Mates who disagreed –in front of kids at least- making me realize how perfectly the Mates are chosen for each other, and boosting up some confidence in me.
I step away from the golden-framed mirror and walk to the steel door, as my mother opens it, welcoming a wave of dry wind into our house. She pats my back as I take my first step outside, where it's silent and hushed. It is expected from us, the beginner Mates, to know where The Muster is located, but I've never been informed, and it is my first time walking alone.
