Lipstick before Bed

Her father asked if I drank. I lied and said no. I could tell he still didn’t like me much. But she liked the fact that I was a doctor and lived in America, so she convinced her father and he gave her permission on one condition: that she would never come back crying. The day after the engagement, I flew back to Texas and Salma planned to join me in about a month. And so I was married.

I picked her up from the airport and brought her to my apartment. Not an hour later, my ex, Nancy, called. That wouldn’t have been a problem, but Salma answered the phone. She would have cursed Nancy had she spoken English. She got upset, threw up a couple of times, and then got over it. I told Nancy I was married now and she’d have to stop calling. I didn’t have time to like her anymore with Salma making life so interesting.

She started putting lipstick on every night before bed, this vibrant coral red that stained her pillows and sheets. In her mind, that was what American women did. I loved that about Salma. Not the lipstick. The fact that she couldn’t stand seeing Revlon all over the bed when she woke up the next morning. She’d force herself to change the linen everyday.