Middle-Aged Man

Cheers erupt from the guests as your groom finally makes his way into the room with the blaring sounds of drums and horns. Slowly he makes his way through the applauding guests and takes his seat beside you. As he sits down you shyly turn your head to the side to get a first look at your soon-to-be husband. He is much older than you first thought. Looking to be in his 40s he had dark skin, a bushy mustache, and yellow-stained eyes. His face was already beaded with sweat, from the humid heat of Indian and the layers of clothes you both wore in. You noticed he had a slight stomach but nothing too disturbing. It worried you how old he appeared, but there was no turning back now.

He smiled weakly at you, giving you a glimpse of his yellow teeth, and the faint stench of cigarettes. Slowly he eyed you up as you sat beside him on the rug. You noticed how his eyes lingered on your breasts, focusing deeply on the mounds covered by your matching red blouse. Slowly he turned his attention back to the procession in front of you and you did the same. The ceremony dragged on for hours, running through all the events that lead up to a marriage, and the following reception later. Many invited families performed some amateur variation of a dance or song, then you rewarded the guests with a large buffet feast.

Towards the end of the night, you were exhausted. Your family greeted you as you left the gates of the wedding hall and bid their emotional farewells. Your new husband quickly grabbed your wrist and led you into a waiting car with him, clearly the events of the day had worn him out too. The ride back to your husband’s family house was quiet, but you both noticed yourselves taking quick, both being too shy to start a conversation. You arrived at the house and were lead through the front gates and entrance doorway. The house was dark, but your new family guided you along with your husband and closed the doors of your new bedroom once you both had entered.

Inside was a plain room with concrete walls, a large wooden almirah, and small full-length mirror and a boxy ty set on a nightstand at the foot of the bed. The bed itself was mostly a mattress set upon a box spring. White sheets had been laid on it, with a comfy and intricately designed blanket. The room was lit by a single ceiling light that shown dimly, creating contouring shadows all along the wall.

You turned to look at your husband properly for the first time. He was staring at you intently. He was still in his wedding attire, as were you, but you could see the faint outlines of sweat patches now staining his clothes. He had stern bags under his eyes and a piercing gaze that sent chills up your spine. You were not attracted to him in the slightest, but you had committed to this relationship and were stuck with him for life.

“Hi, my name is Shivani, I guess we can finally talk now,” you tried to giggle lightheartedly.

“My name is Vijay, they told you this. Go take off your clothes and lie in the bed,” He commanded very abruptly.

“Oh uh. Don’t you want to talk first and get to know each other. I mean we’re married now,” you asked. You had expected that sex would come into the question, but you had hoped to have a few more nights to prepare your self for that ordeal.

“We will talk tomorrow. We can spend our whole lives getting to know each other if you want. But it’s late so take off your clothes and lie down.”