The sky was a vibrant blue today. More blue than I've known it to be in the three months that we've been living here. It was a clear blue on a hot day with no clouds to break up the monotony of sky and sun. No ripple or disturbance. Nothing.
The sky was blue yesterday but it did not move Agav. "Rain's on its way," he'd sniffed when I noted the blinding brightness of the day. Agav offered nothing more than his thoughts on the weather. He was right. It rained last night.
Mama had told me it was best what she and Uncle were doing. "It is not good that you should still be unmarried at your age," Mama had whined the day after my graduation. "Look at Leila," Uncle chipped in. "Your sister is happily building her family. You could have that. You should have that." My happiness was all that mattered to them. So they chose Agav to give it to me.
The rain began an hour ago, sinking my mood lower than an anchor. Hunched over on the window seat, my book laid carelessly aside, I watch Agav as he taps away on the computer. He says nothing. He hardly makes a sound. In this house of many rooms, Agav and I are like wandering ghosts. We say few words to each other, all at the right times of the day and nothing more. In an hour, I will ascend the stairs and retire to a room where I will sleep alone. Just like I've been doing for three months. Just as if I was never married.
"Come Mahdi," Uncle had tried to pacify me when I railed against Mama. "You ought to be thankful and happy. You know Agav. You've known him since you were children." My anger had boiled over that afternoon. It had not been enough to see my employment letter thrown into the bin and hidden under piles of rotten bananas. Agav had stood outside the door quietly waiting until Uncle invited him in. Leila had smirked, one hand resting on her swollen belly while the other cradled a toddler. She needs to stops giving birth, I had thought at the time. She needs to leave me alone.
Agav won't come to bed. Not when he doesn't see it as his. I sleep here alone, going through my daily ablutions without so much as a friendly word. 'Good morning,' 'Here's your food,' and 'Good night' are all we say to each other. Mama had promised me that things would improve. "He's just shy," she had chuckled the day after the wedding. He's not, I wanted to say. I am.
A loud thud wakes me up in the middle of the night. I search for my watch, turning it over in the darkness to check the time. I can't see anything and I can't hear anything either. Not the sound of Agav walking from the living room to the kitchen for coffee. Not the constant tapping of his pen on the desk as he mulls over something. The corridors are empty as I tiptoe out of the room. "Agav?" I call out tentatively. The scarf I tie to bed has slipped, pooling around my shoulders and providing some warmth on this wet cold night. "Agav?" I call out again. No answer. I don't expect one anyway. It's just like him not to answer quickly.
Leila had prided herself on being the town beauty. Her conceit had grown even worse with marriage. "Mahdi dear, marriage would suit you," she laughed as I fumed. Five pregnancies and counting and yet, she had lost none of her youthfulness. Every time I came home on holiday, it seemed as if she was only growing fresher. Motherhood suited her, I believed but not marriage. Wearing a veil in the morning because you spend your nights crying is not a way to live. But she approved of Agav and hers was the only opinion Mama cared to hear.
The lights downstairs are off. Agav likes to work in darkness. I never complain about it as I find myself suited to this arrangement. But now is not the time. The silence in the house is choking me, pushing me forward into the living room until my leg hits something and I stumble. I pick myself up and start to feel around to find the offending object. Instead, I find a hand. It is Agav. An unconscious Agav.
The wedding day of a woman of Dacca is said to be the crowning day of her life. For me, it was the lowest. Each step towards the temple had been torture, bringing me closer to a man whose presence in my life I had not agreed to. The road to sadness is paved with happy smiles and Uncle and Mama and Leila had the brightest ones. It had been a bright clear day and I had cursed the sky for not sending the rain.
