An Arranged Marriage

I had split feelings when I finally regrouped with my parents. They'd met Elena earlier, but I hadn't had a chance to actually talk with them. Like everyone else after the incident, they asked if everything was okay and of course I said yes. The conversation sloshed around from topic to topic for a while, mentioning how great Elena is, how wonderful her whole family is. Somewhere along the line I got a vague impression they'd known Elena had someone in her past. Probably not all the details, but they knew something. No wonder they wanted to pair me with the other girl - they didn't have the more youthful sensibilities about such things.

After a while of circuitous and repetitive chatting, we got to talking about how Elena was still in college. They asked if that was a problem for me, and I answered that of course it wasn't. My mom, ever the pragmatist, informed me that they had wanted to pay all the rest of Elena's tuition so that she could focus on school and the two of us wouldn't be buried in debt. They tried forcing the matter, but mercifully Elena's parents left the decision up to me. I don't know how this was the first time I pieced together her family's economic situation, and realized Elena would be the first in her family to complete a four-year degree.

It was all extremely generous of my parents, especially considering I already knew they planned to give us a substantial monetary wedding gift. My family wasn't particularly rich, but rich is relative. My parents were always careful savers, splurging generously on people and experiences that meant the most to them. Elena's family had to scrape together every last penny they had to put her through the first two years of school, and might not have managed the last two without killer debt. Hers was a proud family, so I imagined it was quite an argument they had before accepting my parents' help.

I know the whole conversation was well-intentioned, aimed at reassuring me about one of the bigger logistic and monetary issues that hung over our union. They lacked the social awareness to realize the way it made my stomach knot around itself another three times. They way it made me feel like they were trying to buy an incredibly expensive mail-order wife for me who'd someday bear my children. I knew that's now how it was - Elena didn't even know yet, and I knew my parents, but wounded pride is a hell of a thing. I ended up barking a terse rejection of the money. It probably wasn't wise, but wisdom is hard to come by when your arranged marriage hangs by a thread not even eight hours in.

I managed to escape a longer conversation with them, having had enough revelations for one evening, and made a few more rounds of conversation before guests started leaving. My eyes caught on Elena dancing with her father, moving gracefully and sensuously across the floor. I'd probably have been jealous if it was a different man. I could tell they were talking in Spanish, so I had no hope of knowing what the topic was even if I could hear them. I could tell from his gentle demeanor he was trying to make her feel better. He was obviously a stellar father - he even succeeded a couple times, getting a little smile out of her. God she was pretty, even still.

"How come you're not out there with her?" It was Katie. She'd spent the last two hours being a social superhero. I owed her big time.

"Two left feet, you know." Elena almost caught me watching before I turned to my sister.

"Oh come on, did you even try?" She mashed her fist into my arm.

"I didn't really feel like it after all that excitement."

"I'd be livid if a guy left me to dance with my dad on my wedding day."

I knew she was right even before she said it. What could I say? That learning about Elena's sex-symbol ex she nearly banged turned me into a scared little boy? That mom and dad thought they needed to pay a dowry to make me worth marrying? I settled on a sad, weak, "Yeah."

"Oh, damn," Her voice fell. She knew me better than anyone. She could tell what that tone of voice meant. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be okay." That wasn't very convincing, especially not for Katie.

"Yeah, right. I know that look. You wanna talk?"

I sighed. "Not really. Not right now, at least."

"Okay. But you need to fix whatever it is. Don't let that asthmatic turd stain get in your head, no matter how beefy he was. Elena is awesome and she's super into you, the two of you are going to be legendary together."

I laughed at her way with words, but also because I simply couldn't bring myself to believe her. "Yeah, right."

"I'm not joking. Don't be stupid. She's going to love you more than anything, but you gotta fix it first." She grabs my arm. I can't think of a time I've seen her so serious and stern.

"Yeah. Right." I agree. She's right. Of course she is. But why don't I feel like she's right?

"This party's starting to wrap up. Only so much you can do after a drunk and disorderly. Couple more songs, and I'll start to nudge things to wrap up. I can cover you with mom and dad, just get Elena, make your goodbyes, and head out, okay?"

"Okay."

"When you get to the hotel, you talk it out, whatever you gotta do. Then you romance the hell out of her, you hear me?"

"Sure, boss," I crack a smile finally.

"And text me in the morning how it goes." Jeez, she was bossy sometimes!

"Yes, doctor Katie." We both smile. A look passes between us only siblings understand, and I take in what she's doing. "Thank you, Katie. I honestly don't know how to say thanks for all this."

She gives a terrifying grin. "You can start by making a gorgeous baby together."

"Katie!"

--

An academic study on the topic of arranged marriages from 2013 is the only one I know of that has a statistically significant, if still small, number of participants who observe a closely related set of practices and worship to what my family does. Like virtually all cultures that practice arranged marriages, the divorce rate is all but non-existent, but that's easily explained by the societal and familial pressures to stay with someone even if you absolutely cannot stand them. Unlike those other cultures, however, the study found that the average couple in my faith had scored their overall satisfaction with their marriage considerably higher than their peers. The other interesting factor was that couples were able to nearly perfectly predict their partners' scoring, even when the score was low.

The researchers, unfamiliar with our faith, were somewhat surprised to see such an outlier. When they started digging, they discovered a few key factors at play. The biggest is that partner selection tends to be less rushed than other cultures. There's less focus on reproduction, family reputation, money, or status. The real interest is in matching two souls who will support each other and challenge each other to grow - who will harmonize together to create something greater than the whole, even if there won't be children for some reason. In a way, our parents were deeply concerned with whether Elena and I would be attracted to each other. That shift in perspective, they found, is everything.

Because of that attitude, young adults are not often allowed to marry until they've reached a certain level of emotional maturity - a series of lessons that start early. Sadness and anger aren't punished, but celebrated so long as a child works to express them appropriately. Older teenagers learn these are the things they feel when they need to ask for respect or love. They learn to ask for love in the way they need it most in that moment.

In general, communication and honesty are not just stressed but immensely rewarded. A child is still punished for doing something bad, but parents often gift generously when they come clean of their own accord, sometimes something to help them remember the mistake and that it's okay to grow from it.

On top of all that, there's a mindset that all good things are worth working for, and marriage is the greatest institution in this life. That means, even from day one, there's a certain determination - compulsion, almost - to actively love, to see a spouse's needs, wants, and hopes and fiercely chase them. All of these things were what the researchers found in the mere dozen participants.

But there was one last surprise in store. The study had a questionnaire regarding sexual satisfaction, hypothesizing it would be lower than the wider population. Fully half of the participants from my faith answered "exceptionally satisfied" - the only six responses to respond with the highest answer in the whole survey. Even more surprising was that those couples had already been married a number of years, well into the declining trendline. They

Like those participants, my sexual education started early. You might think that's immoral or illegal, or gross and odd, but you need to know those first lessons at church were more focused on knowing the various points of the body that we needed to know were ours to captain. The beginning lessons are aimed at innoculating children against sexual predators, and teaching a deep understanding of consent from before we even had questions about our own bodies.

Later on, the lessons touched on what most of you would imagine. Rote anatomy, periods, erections, reproduction, STDs, you name it. Especially birth control - unlike those ridiculous Catholics, careful family planning is heavily encouraged. Then, at last, they talk about the aspects of intimacy and pleasure. The topic of sex, for pleasure or reproduction, is hardly taboo for us, even if performing the act outside of wedlock is considered an immense sin. Once again, lessons on the importance of communication take an encore, having been beaten into the pliable, youthful brains for over decade by that point. All in all, it seems to work.

However, for as thorough as the church might think itself to be, they never seemed to manage to remove the awkwardness a bunch of hormone-laden teens and twenty-somethings felt on the topic. It was even worse when one of our parents would start talking about it - I mean, who wants to hear that their mom and dad are doing each other dirty four times a week? Maybe it was all a tactic to gross us out enough to not try searching the internet too hard for more details. If so, it worked. For many young men and women, the whole thing still held the same mystery and allure and awkwardness it has for every teen and college kid.

And, as I was going to learn, all that sex ed still left the occasional, weird gap in knowledge.

--

I stuffed the keycard into the lock of the honeymoon suite a little too aggressively. Somehow, even the honeymoon suite took two tries to get into the first time.

It was getting to be just after six by the time we got to the hotel. The custom was typically an early ceremony and only a modest-length reception, but the tense, shy quiet between the two of us made the early hour still feel like a minor failure. The drive to the nicest hotel in the dense downtown had been awful with a pileup on the main highway, which kept her focused on traffic and me focused on directions.

It was a pleasant surprise when we managed to have a good conversation about our favorite restaurants downtown, and planned meals we wanted to introduce each other to in the week we were about to spend together. We learned we were both up to try just about anything when it came to food. That was good, since food was huge for me, but also because it cut the tension a little to feel like we had something to look forward to this week.

It still made my stomach flutter every time I snuck a look at Elena. She was just so pretty, and I honestly still liked every new thing I discovered about her (apart from Adrian). Even before the whole Adrian soap opera, it was hard not to feel outshined by her and her smile while chatting with our families and friends. (Was this what being with a latina woman was like?) Afterwards, I felt like a common toadstool she probably wouldn't want anything to do with.

And now we were alone together.

My parents rented this place for us for a whole week. They already checked in for us earlier this afternoon and both of our parents had already stashed our things here so we wouldn't have to worry about it. She had four suitcases pre-positioned, I had two. All we had to do was walk in, and try to relax with a view of the rolling green of a big city park tumbling into a wide, rushing river valley. The city carpeted the far side before the distant forests and fields took over the countryside and suburbs. This room must have been expensive.

"Nice view," I say, trying literally anything to cut the tension from taking our first step together as husband and wife apart from the rest of our families.

"It is," Elena responds softly. I can hear the tight, little sadness fomenting in her throat from the events of the day, the forlorn wondering about what would go wrong next. Nevermind that I - a complete stranger - had taken her away from her family and their love, that her life's course was thrown into utter chaos in an afternoon. I didn't have even the first clue how to soften that blow for her. I was still reeling from how insane all this was!

I start poking around the suite. It's more like a very, very expensive apartment. "Wow, this place is really nice. Cali king bed, double showerheads, hot tub... giant TV and fully stocked kitchen..." I trail off. "Hungry for anything? Drinks? Whatever you want, my treat!" I try to smile at the stupid joke. Our financial situation was all one, now. My smile is a poor one - I can feel it.

"I'm fine, thanks." She looks around, her hands still tightly clutching a purse in front of her. I know she's still anxious from how her ex appeared, but there's something else plaguing her pretty features. I think I can guess what. There's a lot of expectation on a couple's wedding night. I mean, just listen to my sister! I know she's scared of what a man can do to a woman after Adrian. Even if I don't need to, I promise myself: I won't touch her unless she says so. Unless she's fully ready for that. I won't be one of 'those' men. Never.

Hell, I'm terrified to touch her anyways. In my brain, she's too pretty. Too perfect. Ever since I first saw her, I haven't stopped thinking: How could she possibly ever want to marry a man like me? Okay, I knew I wasn't ugly. If anything, I usually felt pretty good in my own skin, but my confidence had taken a beating and my self-talk was circling the drain. Don't forget that she already knew the touch of another man, and that was someone she'd chosen for herself. How was I supposed to measure up?

It was a real surprise - I never thought my parents would set me up with someone so stunning. I suppose they were thinking of their grandchildren, hoping they'd come out good looking. I cough on the lump in my throat. I'm supposed to get this woman pregnant? Yeah, not right away, but still!

I grab a glass of water, and the cold liquid helps a little with the now non-stop buzz of adrenaline that makes my fingers tingle. I grip the glass too tightly to compensate, making the skin on my fingers bulge from the pressure. I set it down, coming back to the living room the front door opened into. "Well..." I start weakly, trying desperately to think of something to break the silence. I sigh, tired, yet also very very awake. "Do you want to sit? Maybe chat for a while?"

"Sure." She sounds unconvinced, or maybe anxious about what the topic of conversation would turn to. Hell, I know I was. She put her purse on a little stand by the door, then checked the lock once before drifting slowly to the couch and sitting next to me where I'd set out another glass of water for her. Even obviously tense, there's still a grace to her, the white dress prettily trailing behind her. She tucks a bit of hair behind an ear and looks to me to start up a conversation. She, unlike me, has no problems with eye contact.

It takes me a second and a heavy exhale. "I can't believe I'm married. We're married."

For a second, the gloom lifts from her face, a little ray of hope in there. "Me neither. I've wondered what being a wife - having a husband - would be like for a long time. Feels surreal to see my husband - you - by my side."

"Tell me about it." I chuckle a little, then look out the window again - somehow in my head it's still rude to look at a beautiful woman, even if she's my wife. I don't dare ask how I compare to her expectations. "It's all a bit overwhelming, isn't it?"

"Yes," She agreed before letting an uncomfortable silence fall between us again. She seems sad again. It's crushing to feel her disapproval.

"I'm sure we'll figure it all out. You're going to law school. Marriage will be easy compared to all that, right?" I try a joking tone. God, I hope we'll figure it out.

"Maybe." Her voice is distant now, her eyes staring at thick wood grains squirming across the dark coffee table. A vice clamps down on my stomach when I see the slightly glassy shine in her eyes.

I gulped, feeling an earthquake in my throat at seeing her so close to tears. I thought I might puke. Instead of bile, what came out was word vomit. "I'm so sorry Elena... Probably none of this is what you wanted. I don't mean just the Adrian crap, but all of this. Marriage, my family. Me most of all..."

She looks at me, tears temporarily held back for the moment. She searches my face. "Of course I want this. All of this. Including you." She sounds surprisingly confident in that answer. She swallows a shake in her voice, and asks, "Do you want this? Me?"

"Yes!" I croaked desperately. I took a second to compose myself. Amazing what a slow breath can do, especially when searching for the words. "When I told my parents I wanted to be married a year ago, I imagined a lot of possibilities who they might pair me with. I'd have never guessed someone as smart, fun, and amazing as you."

Her voice lowered and her eyes pleaded with me. "But that doesn't mean you want this. Want me." She didn't wait for me to answer this time, drawing her own conclusions. "I'm so, so sorry James. I get it. I really do. I messed up with Adrian, and bad, and now I have to deal with the consequences."

I think a gear in my brain broke a tooth hearing her talk like that. "Sorry... what consequences?"

"To be married to a man who will never truly think of me as his wife. And I deserve it!" Her face binds up, and starts squeezing tears out of her eyes.

"Woah! Hey!" I begged her to stop. "It's okay. You didn't even know me then. You were honest about it, and I forgive you. You have to believe me: I do think of you as my wife!"

She sniffled, sucked in frustration and sadness. "Then I don't get it. Are you gay?"

"No?" I'm confused.

"Do you think I'm ugly?" From her tone of voice, even she knows that's a stretch.

"No!" I probably looked shocked.

"Then what? Do you have a thing against Mexicans stealing jobs or something?"

"Absolutely not!" Stern this time, as the questions got more absurd. I needed to put an end to this. "Why are you asking me these questions?"

"If you'd really forgiven me for Adrian, why didn't you want to dance with me?!"

"Because I'm a massive idiot!" I can't help but look at my hands as I invent new kinds of knots with my fingers.

The outburst of confession stuns her for a moment. She asks another question. "And why do you keep looking away from me, like you're ashamed or repelled me? You did it even when you first saw my face."

The question shocks me. I honestly had only half-noticed I'd been doing that ever since I'd seen her. I force my eyes back to her, and give a weak, "I don't know." Talk about the world's worst answer. I did know, but the answer was embarrassing. I had to learn to open my heart to her.

She sat and stared at me on the white linen couch while I came up with a better answer, patiently angry with me. It was okay, I understood.