Mahdi's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Every Friday, Mahdi came to the wedding hall alone. He wanted a wife. He had wanted one for years. But he never spoke to anyone. He set up folding chairs for other people's celebrations, then left before the dancing began. Tonight he stood inside the red brick pyramid where the weddings happened. His black suit was pressed. His gold crown caught the light. On paper, he looked like a man who owned the room. In truth, he owned nothing but his silence. A red rose sat on the table beside a glowing lamp. He had bought the rose that morning. He planned to give it to someone. Any Friday now, he told himself. He had told himself that for a year. Guests arrived over a rose-patterned carpet. A sign near the door read I LOVE YOU in bright letters. Mahdi watched a woman step through the crowd. She wore a red wedding dress. She was not a bride tonight. She was a guest, laughing with strangers, easy in her own skin. Jessica. Mahdi's hand went to the rose. His feet did not move. The old fear pinned him. He saw the whole failure play out. He would walk over, freeze, and say nothing. Then he would leave alone again, like every Friday before. He almost did leave. He turned toward the door. Then he stopped. He was tired of himself. The rose was already wilting at the edges. One more week and it would die in his hand, unopened, ungiven. He picked up the lamp instead of setting it down. He carried it and the rose across the floral carpet. The warm light moved with him. People glanced up. Jessica turned. "For you," Mahdi said. His voice shook. He held out the rose. "I set up these chairs every Friday. I've never once said hello to anyone." Jessica looked at the trembling flower. Then she looked at his face. "That's a strange first line," she said. She smiled and took the rose. "But I like honest better than smooth." Mahdi laughed. The sound surprised him. It was the first time he had laughed inside this hall. "Sit," she said, and pulled out a chair beside her. He sat. He did not leave before the dancing. He stayed, and they talked until the lamp burned low. Mahdi had broken the silence at last. But Jessica wore that red dress for a reason. Near the end of the night, she told him. She was engaged. The wedding was in three weeks. She had said yes to a man she was no longer sure she loved. Mahdi walked home along the worn stone path. He was not alone anymore. He had a name, a number, and a laugh he wanted to hear again. He also had three weeks, another man, and a wedding that was not his.