Wisdom teeth

He picked me up at the train station, after a month of talking, waiting, testing the waters. I sang under my breath, thrilled to be back in the city, feeling beautiful despite the swelling and pale green bruises under makeup on my jaw. I felt ebullient, wittier than ever, reveling in my strength, my lack of shame, my form fitting clothes and hair uncovered, afloat in the wind. This is what you want. Intelligence, strength, toughness. You came for me. We eat ice cream, he'll have what I have, the cold soothing on the stitches in the back of my mouth. Then it comes, a confession to make. It's just a family thing. It's culture. I don't love her. The wind knocked out of me, I pause. Should I go? Is this the life you want? You don't understand. I'm Saudi. I have to. What did you expect me to say? I hail a cab, stitch myself up, drag my bags upstairs to the new apartment one step at a time.