fifteen thousand

When I was still with my ex-boyfriend, my mum already had her sights on my future with him.
Our wedding, to be exact.
Fifteen thousand, to be exact.
I thought it was ridiculous; I also thought she was joking.

I got to know that she was serious, from how she would not stop mentioning it. I reassured my ex and myself she was asking for such a high amount because of the trouble we had conjured. By that time, he had already gotten a job as a steward and I thought she was just trying to take advantage of the money he'd be getting.

Almost two years later, she is still hung up on a fifteen thousand dowry only now she is expecting it of someone else. Over time, as ridiculous it really is, I realise it isn't funny anymore. Something simple is being made difficult by my own mother.

As a result of how small this country is, I got to know that my boyfriend's brother is married to a friend from secondary school's sister. We spent a better half of secondary school as best friends, but as adults we drifted further and further until we just stopped caring.

But her sister remembered me from the one time I'd come over, almost ten years before. And just like that, I had an old friend back. The last time we met was the last day of August: the birth of her and my boyfriend's second nephew. Both their families were there, including her new sister-in-law.

Somehow I was still in the mindset that anyone who is married should be older than me, right? Her obviously pregnant belly assured me of it. When I first greeted her I'd taken her hand and put it to my nose; she didn't question it, maybe thinking I was younger than her.

Later when I started talking to my friend, I got to know her sister-in-law was 24, just like us. Somehow it slipped my mind that we were way past a marriageable age. That was when I noticed more engagements and weddings among my Instagram following. Some of whom are younger than me.

I can't help but to feel envious. Sometimes sitting on the couch with my love and his parents, one of them would suddenly bring up an upcoming wedding. Some way or another the conversation would wind its way back to our own plans for marriage.

I've listened to their reasons why they just can't give in to my mother's desired amount, even if they can afford it. And wouldn't I be a laughing stock? Not even a diploma, zero sense of religion, not very household-oriented.

Even if the dowry is out of the picture: knowing how my mother is, no daughter of hers will have an ordinary wedding. Not even an ordinary engagement. No, there must be an elaborate ceremony, with her colleagues and friends, more than her daughter's. There must be a five-star hotel, with a famous eighteen-year-old violinist from Malaysia that she is obsessed with.

That is the complete opposite of what I dare to envision.