Carrot Cake 2, Coffee 17: what she can't be
Title: what she can't be
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Carrot cake 2 (breathe), coffee 17 (hat), rainbow sprinkles (Joanna), cherry (entirely introspection).
Word Count: 631.
Rating: PG.
Summary: So much of Joanna's life would disappoint her parents.
Notes: Coffee is interpreted loosely. Title is from Vienna Teng's "The Tower."
This... will not be easy.
Joanna pins her hair up, tucks in the little flyaway ends that always escape, wraps her hijab around her head,. Her movements are practiced, easy; she's done this so many times before, if not in recent years. Lift up and over, smooth down the fabric, wrap left and then right until her face in the mirror is framed in soft green cotton. It's her favorite color; it makes her think of growing things and spring, of confidence and comfort.
She could leave the hijab off, she supposes; in fact, if all else were equal, she would much rather not have to cover her head in a California summer. But she's more comfortable this way; she feels safer, concealed. Hidden, almost. It makes her more conspicuous, not less, and academically she knows this, but it's hard to argue with feelings.
Besides, her family is not going to take her news lightly as it is. Better to keep to the little rituals and traditions they're used to, so her parents won't notice the one big one she's breaking.
She laughs a little, and shakes her head at her reflection. Of course they'll notice. Hugh is not exactly the image of a good Muslim man.
They're going out to dinner, the four of them. She's warned Hugh, but she doesn't think he believed her. Episcopalians don't get overly agitated over matters of religion, she gathers, and Hugh himself is so calm by nature that he finds it difficult to imagine anyone else could get so up in arms about it.
Which she finds odd, considering the number of terrorist attacks and retaliatory assaults on people like her in the last ten years or so, but she won't bring it up-- she won't unbalance his world any more than it already has been. Her parents aren't terrorists, anyway, just ordinary people who want the best for their daughter.
Even if their idea of what's best differs so radically from hers.
She sighs, and smoothes out an invisible bump in the material of her hijab. If her parents had their way, she would have been married ten years ago, and the mother of at least five children. But she wanted to get her master's, not marry straight out of college, and as for children... there will be none. Not ever.
That thought doesn't hurt as much as it used to. She thought she'd never be able to bear it, but seven years later she's found a measure of peace.
She hasn't told her parents yet, though. She isn't sure she'll ever be able to.
Hugh, bless the man, doesn't care at all; he's even said in her hearing that he doesn't want any more children, if it means not having her. She doesn't think he meant for her to hear it, either, which makes it somehow that much more warming.
Besides, he has a daughter, if he can only find her. She will not feel she has deprived him of anything.
So she will marry him, and they will have no children, and if it comes to it she will simply shrug and tell her parents that children will come if Allah sends them. Which might well start them arguing over religious practices, but it will at least change the subject.
Her hijab is as orderly as it's going to be, and she's just fussing now, delaying. Hugh will be here soon, to take her to the restaurant. Maybe it will be all right. She's over thirty-five, after all. Her mother has long since thrown up her hands in despair. Maybe they'll be so thrilled she's getting married that they won't care to whom.
Joanna sighs again, looking into her own miserable expression. Maybe. She won't hold out too much hope.
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Carrot cake 2 (breathe), coffee 17 (hat), rainbow sprinkles (Joanna), cherry (entirely introspection).
Word Count: 631.
Rating: PG.
Summary: So much of Joanna's life would disappoint her parents.
Notes: Coffee is interpreted loosely. Title is from Vienna Teng's "The Tower."
This... will not be easy.
Joanna pins her hair up, tucks in the little flyaway ends that always escape, wraps her hijab around her head,. Her movements are practiced, easy; she's done this so many times before, if not in recent years. Lift up and over, smooth down the fabric, wrap left and then right until her face in the mirror is framed in soft green cotton. It's her favorite color; it makes her think of growing things and spring, of confidence and comfort.
She could leave the hijab off, she supposes; in fact, if all else were equal, she would much rather not have to cover her head in a California summer. But she's more comfortable this way; she feels safer, concealed. Hidden, almost. It makes her more conspicuous, not less, and academically she knows this, but it's hard to argue with feelings.
Besides, her family is not going to take her news lightly as it is. Better to keep to the little rituals and traditions they're used to, so her parents won't notice the one big one she's breaking.
She laughs a little, and shakes her head at her reflection. Of course they'll notice. Hugh is not exactly the image of a good Muslim man.
They're going out to dinner, the four of them. She's warned Hugh, but she doesn't think he believed her. Episcopalians don't get overly agitated over matters of religion, she gathers, and Hugh himself is so calm by nature that he finds it difficult to imagine anyone else could get so up in arms about it.
Which she finds odd, considering the number of terrorist attacks and retaliatory assaults on people like her in the last ten years or so, but she won't bring it up-- she won't unbalance his world any more than it already has been. Her parents aren't terrorists, anyway, just ordinary people who want the best for their daughter.
Even if their idea of what's best differs so radically from hers.
She sighs, and smoothes out an invisible bump in the material of her hijab. If her parents had their way, she would have been married ten years ago, and the mother of at least five children. But she wanted to get her master's, not marry straight out of college, and as for children... there will be none. Not ever.
That thought doesn't hurt as much as it used to. She thought she'd never be able to bear it, but seven years later she's found a measure of peace.
She hasn't told her parents yet, though. She isn't sure she'll ever be able to.
Hugh, bless the man, doesn't care at all; he's even said in her hearing that he doesn't want any more children, if it means not having her. She doesn't think he meant for her to hear it, either, which makes it somehow that much more warming.
Besides, he has a daughter, if he can only find her. She will not feel she has deprived him of anything.
So she will marry him, and they will have no children, and if it comes to it she will simply shrug and tell her parents that children will come if Allah sends them. Which might well start them arguing over religious practices, but it will at least change the subject.
Her hijab is as orderly as it's going to be, and she's just fussing now, delaying. Hugh will be here soon, to take her to the restaurant. Maybe it will be all right. She's over thirty-five, after all. Her mother has long since thrown up her hands in despair. Maybe they'll be so thrilled she's getting married that they won't care to whom.
Joanna sighs again, looking into her own miserable expression. Maybe. She won't hold out too much hope.
