Gypsy Lover

It was summer when Harman brought Alodia along with him to Vaslui to introduce her to his family. However, not everyone was happy to see or meet her. She could see their enmity and coldness. Only a few were sincerely happy for Harman in tagging her along to his original home.

"Don't mind them," one of his aunts, Fairuza, said. She was quite voluptuous and wore the traditional Gypsy clothes, long colorful skirt and printed blouse. She wore some fashion accessories like dangling earrings and many bracelets. Probably some of her bracelets were made of real gold though. She had really no eye for what was real or not but she just guesstimated.

They were in the kitchen at the time while Harman was out in the living room to catch up with his cousins.

"It's... not so easy to do that,” she admitted with a bitter smile.

Just as she said, Flavie, Harman's cousin walked into the kitchen with a cordless phone in her hand. The younger woman looked at her while she helped Fairuza with peeling the potatoes. They were seated at the table to be more comfortable. "Yeah. Come over here, Laili. There's a party here. If you don't come now, you might be too late to catch dinner," Flavie said over the phone.

It was a deliberate conversation for Alodia to hear. She bit her lower lip as she glanced at Fairuza. The older woman glared at her already married eighteen-year-old daughter. Her sharp eyes drilled on the young woman's face.

"La naiba! You son of a bitch! Why are you calling Yanko's daughter? And what the hell is wrong with you making up a party like that tonight?" she scolded her daughter.

"We have a visitor, right?" Flavie retorted unaffectedly. "Besides, it's the king's daughter who's coming, so... we have a party!" The younger woman shrugged carelessly and walked out of the kitchen.

What? Who's the king's daughter? Is there a king here that I didn't know about? Romania is a democratic country! Her mind was reeling with this information. Perhaps, what she thought was already reflecting on her face that was why Fairuza just sighed and continued to peel potatoes.

"You might not understand this because a gadzo like you might not understand about us Romani people."

There went that word gadzo again. "W-what does gadzo mean?" She could not stop herself from asking. She never thought of asking Harman about it because it had got to do with her and Laili. And it was that word that Laili used for her when they first met at the company party, and she had the feeling she'd learn more at this moment than before. To top it off, she would probably not like it.

"Outsider. That's the meaning of it," Fairuza informed her. "And perhaps, you'd never understand our tradition. We Gypsies tend to keep to ourselves to preserve our kind, our beliefs and our traditions so that we can pass them on to our next generation. And no matter what, it's impossible to just erase us in this world. That's why we have rules, and as long as possible, we have to keep them. As much as possible, we don't marry someone who's not like us. And that's the reason why our children even at their young age are already promised to marry one day at the age of sixteen."

"Y-you mean... Harman and Laili were supposed to marry while they were in their teenage years yet?" She wanted to clarify that part.

"Yes. But... my nephew left home without a word to anyone. And my sister, because of the shame and sorrow, she committed suicide. Naturally, my brother-in-law could not forgive Harman because of not marrying the king's daughter and for his mother's death. So did the rest of our relatives. The king gave a huge dowry for Laili, for them to marry one day. And even my brother-in-law's life wasn't enough to pay for it. And he died without even forgiving Harman. And my poor nephew... well, I feel for him. I pity the boy. He wasn't even forgiven by his own father for leaving home. But I did understand him for doing it. Harman was different from any other Gypsy men. I have already told my sister and her husband about what was going to happen but..." She shook her head helplessly.

Alodia was confused. "W-what do you mean?"

"I'm a fortune teller. Isn't it obvious?" Fairuza laughed at her face but there was understanding in her eyes and kind smile.

"I-I'm sorry..." she said instead and let out a nervous laugh.

"You're sad, Alodia," Fairuza stated while looking at her in the eye, and she could not say anything. "You have an experience that you didn't tell Harman yet. And just remember that if you won't tell him, you're going to break up and end your relationship."

She swallowed hard. Which one did Fairuza mean? Which experience? Was it about Alyanna or was it about what Laili told her? But that was ridiculous! Harman need not have to know it. She just kept on reminding herself this was all a game! Crazy as she may be, she did not care. But she did want to hold on to him for some reason. Yes, that was love, which she did not want to linger on even until now. She must be crazy for being this way and she had no idea how to get this cycle of being in denial and on holding on to him.

"If you really love my nephew, you are going to fight for him, won't you, Alodia?" Fairuza looked at her with unwavering dark eyes.

"B-but... you're telling me that I'm a... gadzo. And your kind or your relatives will never accept me. What would become of Harman? You're the only close relative... a family... that he has left of. For whom does he work this hard? Isn't it all for you?"

Fairuza shook her head with a sad smile on her lips. "You might not know Harman well, Alodia. Are you sure that you love him enough?"

She went still, blinking fast. She could not even answer that simple question.

The older woman gently patted her cheek before she stood up to start cooking for the dinner party. "Ambush party" courtesy of Flavie.

Alodia helped the fifty-year-old woman in cooking. A couple or so more of ladies came into the kitchen to help. One or two wanted to speak with her while the others still gave her the hostilities. It was almost chilling, but the kitchen was hot enough, so she did her best to ignore them. She could be bitchy, too.

"Is it true you and Harman are going to marry?" The fifteen-year-old Mala asked her in a conspiring voice.

"Huh? Why... are you asking me that?" She pulled her lips into smile with slightly raised eyebrows.

"Because... our relatives are ready to forgive him if he's going to marry Laili in the end. But if you both are going to marry, it'll be forever that Harman couldn't get near us and we're going to think that he's already dead or we're going to treat him as a gadzo, too," Mala explained and shrugged afterward.

Her eyes fluttered and she had to forced down the lump in her throat. She thought of him while he was gaily talking to his cousins outside, catching up still. If it would be him and her, his family would be gone from his life for good. He would have nothing to return to in Vaslui. And everything he worked hard for would be gone into smokes. And she could not bear for these people to live on the streets or somewhere else.

But they're Gypsies. That's their life is all about, a voice in her head said philosophically. Well, maybe selfishly. Still, they were Harman's only family.