Last summer I was waiting to meet my friend at the entrance to Heathrow airport from the Piccadilly line. We’d gotten separated during our lengthy trip on the tube, and seeing as how we were flying across the ocean together, I figured I’d better find her.
I had four bags of luggage with me weighing a collective three hundred pounds on each shoulder. It was the last leg of our month-long sojourn in London, and I was ready to go home. I decided to pull a homeless and sit on my luggage at the bottom of the stairs. People of all nations whirled around me, and I craned my neck to keep a constant watch on those getting off the tube. I had sat there about fifteen minutes when I noticed a Pakistani woman in a beautiful lime-green sari watching me.
Giving her my best polite American smile, I turned away. I’d noticed that people across the pond were not into smiling as much as they were back home. “Texas friendly” often came across as a little…too friendly. When I looked back at her again, she was still staring. With this renewed eye contact, she walked over to me.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hi,” I smiled back.
“Are you waiting for someone?”
“Yeah, my friend and I got lost and I’m hoping to spot her getting off the tube.”
“Oh, yes. Are you traveling in London?”
I told her I had been studying abroad but was flying back today. She was very
interested in what school I went to and what I was studying. She herself was waiting for her daughter to get off work, who apparently worked for Lufthansa Airlines inside Heathrow.
We had been having a nice little chat when she declared, “I want you to meet my daughter! Yes, you
“Um, well, I should probably wait for my friend. I don’t want to miss her.”
“Oh, but you must! Come, come! It will take no time at all.”
It must have been the lack of sleep that made me agree. It had been an odd past couple of days and I decided to keep the pattern going.
“Okay, I’ll come meet Heena.”
She helped with my bags and we trudged for what seemed like two miles to the Lufthansa counter inside. A young woman with startlingly blue eyes bounded out and came to greet us.
“Heena, this is Lindsey. She is a student from the United States.”
“Hi, Lindsey! So nice to meet you. You are traveling in London? Studying what? Are you married?”
“Um, no, I’m still a student and—“
“You must meet my brother! He is very handsome and is studying medical school in Pakistan right now. He is almost done, and will be moving back to London soon.”
“Oh, really? That’s cool…how-how old is he?”
“He is 23, and very handsome. You must meet him! Are you coming back to London soon?”
“Oh, I’d love to, but it’s very expensive and—“
“You must come! We have a very big house here and you can stay with us and meet my brother.”
“Really? Well, that would be nice. ..”
“Are you staying here for awhile?”
“No, I’m actually catching a flight in about four hours.” “
“Oh, no! That is too bad! Let me get your email and phone number.”
I couldn’t very well say no. I do like emails from strangers, and if she wanted to pay for expensive international phone calls, then so be it. If she rang, I could always not pick up. Besides, I really did want to visit London again. She handed me a piece of paper, and I looked around for a hard surface to write on. The mother bent over and said, “Here! On my back!”
I did so, but not without a strange feeling of trepidation.
After some hugs and promises to email, I shouldered my luggage and trudged back to my original destination. I doubted I would ever hear from them again. Perhaps they thought I was a diplomat’s daughter with connections and wealth. If so, they were very much mistaken.
Upon checking my email eighteen hours later back in the States, I was surprised to see Heena had already emailed me. She had a unique way of typing. It was shorthand like text messages, but with misspellings that made no sense—at least to me.
Hi Linsey, how r u? Its Hina do u remember me we at the Airport. u met my mum ans she brought u to my work place Lufthansa. i was trying to find out if u have reached in US. hopefully u must have had a nice journey.
i have tried to call u but the number was not going through so can u please possiblly ring me on (0044) 07908488861 by the we are from london.
take care x
thanx
Hina
I found it extremely odd that her email was “honey_jus4u.” It seemed a little jailbait-y and something that would show up in your spam blocker. She also spelled her name differently. Sometimes with an “I” and sometimes with two “E”s. I did write her back, telling her of my uneventful trip home and how hot it was back in Texas. Two days later, she wrote me back.
how r u Lindsey, hope ur okay? i have been trying to ring u but it doesnt get through and it keeps ringing. i just wanted to find out did u get the text message from my brother because he didnt get any reply. anyways hows ur family. can u please do us a big favour can u email me a picture of yours.
i will send u my brothers as well just need to get them scanned. i hope u will send me ur picture soon. can u also tell me when i can ring u as well.
Thank u tk cr
Hina
I couldn’t understand why she wanted a picture of me. I suppose it was to show her brother, and see if he found me a suitable wife. I was starting to realize they weren’t just showing me English hospitality at the airport. They were ready to incorporate me into the family. But they were keeping it on the down-low. I wanted her to just come right out and say, “Please marry my brother so he can have U.S. citizenship.” For now, Heena was still playing the sly matchmaker. Just a bit of harmless fun, I told myself.
Then the phone calls began. The first time, I picked up. I have a pesky habit of being too curious. Heena was on the phone, but it was a bad connection and we had trouble hearing each other.
“Lindsey! We need…picture! To show my brother, yes?”
And: “When are you coming back to London? You need to stay with us! When is your next holiday?”
I could hear her mother hollering in the background at things to say to me. She sounded very excited. So excited that Heena put her on the phone with me. She jabbered away earnestly, but I honestly couldn’t understand one word she was saying—it was a mix of broken English and Urdu.
Finally, I shouted, “Heena! I have to go! I have work now. Bye!”
She called me back two days later. I picked up.
“Lindsey! We are going to Pakistan in November to visit my brother! You must come! Will you come? We will buy your ticket.”
I have to admit, it was pretty tempting. I didn’t want to turn down a free ticket around the world. Then again, I didn’t want to be forced into an arranged marriage. I told her I would need a chaperone, and that I would have to think about it.
She continued to call me incessantly throughout the month but I didn’t have the heart to pick up. It was too difficult to communicate, and I didn’t want to lead her family on. It was like a very persistent first date that just wouldn’t let go. But the stakes were much higher. We were talking green cards here.
The calls petered out after awhile. The messages were shrill and high-pitched, with the mother often yelling in the background. I wish I had saved them. Heena did write me one last email two months after our initial meeting.
Hi Lindsey,
am fine thanx..how r u? dont be sorry i can undstand. i will tell my brother to email u. Lindsey would it be possible for u to email me ur picture please its just that my sisters are really very excited and they are dying to c u. and please do let me know when have a day off or when ur free to chat online. and also when r u getting holidays? the Weather in London is cool not too hot its sunny but cool. If its really hot their come and stay with us in London (lol)
tk cr and plase let me know how soon u can come online and please do email me a picture of urz.
bye heena x
I’m still not exactly sure what Heena and her family wanted from me. To marry the brother? To bring him to the United States? Or was I to go there? Perhaps they thought I was a wealthy American who had a hankering for international love. I’ll never know. But if I ever fly into Heathrow again, I might be tempted to stop by the Lufthansa counter and see if my once potential sister-in-law is still there.
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