* * *

“Well, that was a very nice evening,” my father said. The three of us were standing on the doorstep waving goodbye to our guests as they backed out of the driveway. My cheeks were starting to numb, and I wondered how much longer I would have to keep the fake smile plastered across my face.

“Yes, it could not have gone any better.” My mother beamed as the glare from the headlights turned onto the road. We shut the door behind us, and I stealthily backed out of the room while my parents continued gushing about what a wonderful night it had been. Just as I was about to reach the hallway, my mother’s voice called after me.

“Leila, beti, can you help me with the dishes?”

I groaned. So close.

“Coming,” I said, dragging my feet into the kitchen.

“So, how did it go with Anwar?” my mother finally asked.

“Okay,” I said, stacking the dirty plates in the sink.

“Just okay?” My mother turned to me. “You two were talking for a very long time.”

“He was asking me if you guys were chronic tooters.”

“Tutors?” She scrunched her face. “Did you tell him about the after-school tutoring you started for your students? He will be very impressed to learn that!” She bobbled her head.

“No, Ammi, that’s not what I meant,” I said, annoyed. “Never mind.”

“Don’t worry if you didn’t get a chance to say everything, Leila. We will see the Rehmans again next weekend, insha’Allah. You can mention the tutoring to him then.”

“What?” I turned to her, my soapy hands dripping onto the floor. “What do you mean we’re seeing them next weekend?”

“Mona aunty invited us for dinner. Beti, we cannot say no,” she said, pouring the leftover curries into clear Tupperware containers. “I think you should wear your light pink salwar kameez. And go a little easy with the eyeliner next time.” She pointed to my face. “How can we see your eyes with all this black stuff?”

I sighed. “If they invited you, why do I have to go?”

“Because Anwar will be there!” she exclaimed. “Leila, what is the problem?”

“I’m not interested in him,” I stated flatly.

“Not interested?” my mother repeated, her voice surging. “Leila, he is smart. He is good-looking. And he is a doctor. Really, what is the problem?”

I shrugged, feeling irked by her debriefing. She couldn’t possibly have thought Anwar was the one for me. This was only a first date, and she was already planning the wedding.

“He’s a nice guy, but we just didn’t connect,” I said.

“Connect? What is this, a Wi-Fi signal?” My mother glared at me.

“Ammi, didn’t you say if I didn’t like someone, I would have other options?” I asked. “You’ve only introduced me to one prospect, and you’re already putting all this pressure on me.”

“No pressure, Leila.” My mother held up her hands. “But he is really a very good boy—”

“I know, Ammi.”