23. Yasmeena
Chapter 23
Yasmeena
I t’s been a few weeks of the same routine of trying to get me pregnant. I think this is working out perfectly because we go to work in separate cars, we sleep or try to sleep in separate rooms but Enrique feels the need to come into my room after every session to ask me a question about myself or some memory that I haven’t thought about in years. At least, at work we don’t reveal anything about us being together and when it’s around 8 or 9 pm; we have sex, with me on top. Then he does it all over again. He appears in my room, sometimes he doesn’t speak, he just climbs on the bed and grabs the remote, turning on a tv show. Lately it’s been some old show that I heard of when I was still a kid. He says it’s a 90s classic and I think he’s trying to annoy me more than he already does.
Because I’ve known Enrique for over 4 years now, I can tell when he’s getting frustrated or when he’s going to say something to me. His face has always been expressive and I pay attention most of the time because he’s my COO now so every decision we make together.
I didn’t think having a husband would be like this but I don’t hate it. I pictured my house to be much, much colder. With even less interaction until it was time to have a baby or two. Enrique hasn’t said much to me about how whatever his decision ended up making his fiancée react but I won’t ask or what made him reconsider after telling me no. That night in the hotel room, he said it would bring irreparable damage.
Tonight, however, there will be no going into his room for sex. We have to go to my family’s dinner and let them know that we’re married.
I knock a couple of times and Enrique lets me come in. He’s not exactly in bed but he’s not exactly dressed. He’s sitting on the bed in his boxer briefs as he types away on his cell. He drops his phone on the counter and stands, removing his boxers.
My brow arches and I take a good look at him.
“Although I would very much like to make a baby tonight, we have other engagements.”
Enrique just looks at me. He’s been doing that lately, just looking at me with a blank expression.
“Is this something you could’ve told me earlier?”
“You were busy at work and so was I. Doesn’t really matter though because it’s dinner with my family.”
Enrique rubs his face with an aggravated sigh.
”It does fucking matter. I've been preoccupied with shit but it's my time too. All my hours in a day aren't here for you to use how you see fit.”
“Okay. Then we’ll reschedule. You’ll join me on a different day when you see fit.”
“That’s not the point. I'm a person. I know your compassion or emotional intelligence is compromised but your logic should work fine. I've been doing my absolute best to understand you but…nevermind. I'll be ready in 15 minutes.” His defeated tone doesn’t persuade me to have him come with me.
“I don’t need you to understand me.” I say this in the most reasonable tone I could muster up even though I know it all comes out monotone. No one has and no one will. It’s fine . “And as a person, you don’t have to get ready. We will go together the next time you’re ready. Have a goodnight.”
I walk away because it’s perplexing to me that Enrique wants to understand me. Why would he? I came to terms a long time ago with no one being able to. I can’t even remember when I became detached or how old I was, it was like I woke up one day and bam, I couldn’t remember wanting to care much. I loved my parents and brother or so I thought but it seemed to be dimmed. It just didn’t matter anymore.
The drive over to my family home isn't too far but it also isn't that close. Drew has asked me over and over again if I’m okay and I am. There’s just this sinking feeling that’s always with me when I go to my family home. It’s never settled.
I tell Drew to circle back for me in an hour and I go into the house.
I greet my parents first then Amir and his wife, Lena and my nephews. I never get to see them because of their dad but I do send them gifts.
Once we get over the awkward pleasantries, dinner is served, I force myself to continue eating although it feels like I’m full, I haven’t had enough for me to not cause any attention to turn my way.
“Wait…” Mom drops her fork and stands from across me and pulls my left hand forward causing me to drop the food I was eating. “Why do you have the family heirloom on? Did you get married?”
I clear my throat and pull it back. “Yes I did.”
“Yasmeena! You did what?” She yells as if no one heard me.
My Baba places his fork and knife down and just looks at me. “You didn’t invite us? And you just got married?”
“I wanted a quiet ceremony.”
“Who is he?”
“My CFO.”
“Didn’t he get engaged?” Amir asks and chuckles. “You took someone’s man? Typical psychotic Yasmi.”
“Amir, you have one last time to say that to me.”
“Don’t talk to your brother like that. He’s your older brother.” Mom scolds me.
“Answer, did you take someone’s fiancé?” Baba asks.
“Technically yes, bu?—“
I don’t get the chance to finish my sentence as Baba stands and slaps me. He’s waiting for a reaction but I won’t give him one, he knows I won’t. Mom gasps and grabs Baba’s other hand, softening his closed fist that tightened out of anger. “Bilal, please, this isn’t the way to do things anymore.”
“I don’t care, she keeps embarrassing this family, Jamila. I don’t like it.”
“Yasmeena…” my mom calls my name but I won’t look at her. She doesn’t care either. She just doesn’t want people asking questions.
I clear my throat and go back to eating my food. This is nothing new.