CHAPTER 1
“Pearl, Pearl oo, come downstairs! We are going to be late!” my mom yelled.
“Mom, can you give me a minute? I’ll be down shortly!” I screamed back.
“Be fast,” she said as she adjusted her head tie.
It was a day like no other. It was Amara, our last born’s wedding, and as usual, I was one of the bridesmaids.
But even though it was a happy occasion and a joyful day, my heart was still gloomy because I knew that after this wedding, I would get an earful.
Why is it not my turn yet?
Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself.
My name is Pearl Umeh, a medical doctor and the first daughter of the Umeh family. I have three younger siblings: Chiamaka, a PR personnel and the second daughter; Joseph, the first son and third child, who is a businessman; and Amara, the last child, who is a fashion model and designer.
My parents cherished us all until the issue of marriage started coming up.
Chiamaka found a man and got married.
Joseph married his girlfriend that same year.
My friends, Victoria, Jennifer, and Adaora, all got married within the last three years.
And today, Amara, the last child, was getting married.
While me, the glorified first child, was struggling to keep a relationship, not to talk of getting married.
The wedding started around 10 a.m.
We, the bridesmaids, walked in before the bride and groom were ushered in. My parents were glowing with pride.
As they exchanged their vows, my mom moved closer to me.
“You see, Pearl, your younger sister is off to her husband’s house. By the end of this year, this should be you oo. Otherwise, I think we will have to arrange a marriage for you,” she said seriously.
“Mummy, please let me be,” I replied firmly and faced the Altar!
It was time for the after-party.
My mom was discussing with her friends when I brought the gifts she requested.
“That reminds me, Patience, when is Pearl getting married?” Madam Ifeoma asked. “It’s getting late. I’m sure you don’t want her growing old in your house.”
I swallowed the words forming in my throat and tried to stay calm.
“She is right. Maybe you should introduce her to Nnenna’s son. He’s an engineer. They might be a good match,” Madam Ugonna added.
I was boiling with both rage and shame.
Am I a commodity?
“That will be nice. It’s about time we eat Pearl’s wedding rice,” Madam Nnenna joked.
The women burst into laughter.
Without a word, I left their table and walked to a quiet area far from the party.
I sat down and let out a deep breath.
Is being unmarried a disease?