Muslim Girl

by Umm Zakiyyah

  They were quiet for some time, and Inaya allowed herself to hope that Lyrica would never accept Raymond’s decision. It was a terribly selfish thought, but she couldn’t fight the excitement nestling inside her.

  “I think it’s realistic to learn then live,” Raymond said. “That’s why I’m not giving up on Lyrica.”

  Inaya’s heart dropped at his words.

  “Good for you,” Chris said with a nod. “Just know you can’t control her heart. She might leave you when she finds out.”

  Raymond considered Chris’s words momentarily. “I think she’ll respect my decision.”

  “Perhaps,” Chris said. “But that doesn’t mean she’ll want a relationship with you.”

  “That’s what friends are for,” Raymond said, his tone awkwardly jovial to Inaya’s ears.

  After a few seconds of silence, Inaya sensed that Raymond’s last statement was directed at her. She met his gaze with her brows furrowed.

  “Will you talk to her?” Raymond said.

  Inaya blinked in confusion. “What?”

  “Lyrica,” he said. “Will you talk to her?”

  “Me?” Inaya rested a forefinger on her chest and contorted her face. “Why?”

  “Why not?” Raymond said, leaning forward. “She respects you. I don’t think she’ll listen if I talk to her.”

  Inaya shook her head. “I don’t know, Raymond. I mean…”

  “Why not?” Chris interjected. “It would be a good opportunity for both of you.”

  Inaya knitted her brows. “How?”

  “You can earn some blessings,” Chris said, “and she could learn about Islam.”

  Raymond chuckled. “Well…with Lyrica, we’ll just start with God for now.”

  Chris’s eyebrows shot up. “She doesn’t believe in God?”

  Raymond shook his head. “She’s not convinced.”

  “Wow…” Chris was clearly at a loss for words, a sad smirk on his face. “All this time, I had no idea.”

  “Most people don’t know,” Raymond said. “But recently, she’s become more open about it.”

  There was a long pause, as no one knew how to respond.

  “To be honest, I don’t blame her,” Raymond said with a sigh. “She grew up in the church, so she saw a lot of things she shouldn’t have. It turned her away from religion.”

  Chris clasped his hands then leaned forward as he looked at Inaya. “Then it looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you, sweetheart,” he said.

  “I appreciate anything you can do,” Raymond said, a sad expression on his face as he met Inaya’s gaze. “I don’t think there’s anyone else I could ask.”

  Chapter 16

  Breaking Point

  Inaya threw the covers from herself and sat up in the darkness. The curtains above her bed danced in the cool, late December breeze that drifted through the cracked window. Inaya hugged herself and rubbed her cloth-covered arms as her eyes adjusted to the familiar surroundings.

  She glanced at the clock and groaned at the large red digits that glowed 3:02. It was early Friday morning, the last day of school before winter vacation, and Inaya had two final exams later that day.

  But it wasn’t the English or Calculus exam making her restless. She was fed up with her life. The night before, Inaya and her mother had an argument about a parent-teacher conference that Veronica learned about a week after it had passed. Veronica couldn’t understand why Inaya hadn’t given her the notice about it.

  “What difference does it make?” Inaya had asked as she leaned against the refrigerator with her arms folded in front of her.

  “What difference does it make?” Veronica eyebrows were knitted in anger. “I’m your mother.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Inaya muttered.

  The sting on Inaya’s face was so sudden that Inaya momentarily wondered what had happened. She stumbled to the side and brought a hand to her cheek as she stared wide-eyed at her mother. Inaya hadn’t been slapped since she was child.

  The shocked expression on Veronica’s face distracted Inaya momentarily from her own shock. Apparently, Veronica was more taken aback by what she’d done than her daughter was.

  For several seconds they just stared at each other, Inaya with a hand cradled to her cheek, and Veronica hovering over her, angry breaths warm on Inaya’s face. Veronica’s glistening eyes betrayed her battle to appear defiant. Shame and regret clouded her gaze.

  “One thing I can’t understand,” Inaya’s mother would often say, “is how Muslims can slap their children. ” Veronica would shake her head in disbelief. “It’s not even allowed to hit an animal in the face.”

  Inaya averted her gaze, embarrassed to be witness to her mother’s transgression.

  “Hitting is one step from abuse if you ask me. That’s why I stopped all that foolishness after I became Muslim.”

  Inaya’s heart was heavy as she sat on the edge of her bed, images from the previous night dark flashes in her mind. The sadness that weighed on Inaya made her too weak to move. She had another few hours before Fajr, but Inaya felt no inclination to pray Witr before the dawn prayer.

  In Riyadh, Inaya had performed the voluntary prayer almost every night, and she’d imagined that she would never leave off the prayer. But now she could barely muster the strength for wudhoo. The thought of wetting her arms and face right then made her covet the warmth of her bed.

  “I wish I could live with Daddy,” Inaya had grumbled after recovering from the shock of the slap.

  “I wish you could too,” Veronica had said, eyes narrowed defiantly. “Then you’d come running back, thankful for Islam in your life.”

  Inaya had glared at her mother then. “Daddy’s Muslim now.”

  It took several seconds for Veronica to process what her daughter had said. Her eyes reflected disbelief, as if she suspected that Inaya was lying.

  “Call and ask him yourself,” Inaya had said, challenging. “I was there when he took shahaadah.”

  Veronica’s expression was difficult to read as she stepped back from Inaya as if wounded. But Inaya thought she saw hurt and confusion in her mother’s eyes.

  “You’re lying.” Veronica’s voice was shaky as she turned her back and walked out the kitchen.

  Before Inaya drifted to sleep, she thought she heard crying coming from her mother’s room. And she knew it wasn’t Abdullah.

  ***

  “Nowadays, I don’t meet many Christians like you,” Mrs. Ford said to Inaya Friday afternoon. Mrs. Ford stood leaning toward her desk as she arranged her belongings after school in preparation for winter break.

  Inaya felt anxiety knot in her chest as she sat cross-legged on the floor, labeling some file folders. Inaya frowned and glanced up only briefly, but Mrs. Ford was looking at the pencils she was dropping into a cup.

  “To be honest,” Mrs. Ford said, “this is the first time I met a young person as committed to God as you.”

  Inaya felt the beginning of a headache. She wasn’t in the mood for this conversation. “A lot of people believe in God,” Inaya said, hoping her irritation showed in her tone. “Not only Christians.”

  Mrs. Ford nodded. “That’s true.”

  The pause that followed was so long that Inaya breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God the woman was shutting up for once. Maybe it was the merry spirit of the approaching holidays that had softened her heart.

  “But it’s only Christians who follow the truth,” Mrs. Ford said.

  At that, Inaya rolled her eyes. In a few minutes Kayla would come pick her up, and she could go home. If she could just hold out until then. But Inaya’s frustration built until she was indignant. She was tired of hiding her identity in front of this woman. Who was Mrs. Ford anyway?

  “That’s not true,” Inaya said, her voice shaky. “There are a lot of religions in the world.”

  “Heresy,” Mrs. Ford said, waving her hand dismissively. “That’s what those religions are.”

  “Have you ever studied them?
” Inaya looked directly at Mrs. Ford, but Mrs. Ford only met Inaya’s gaze briefly.

  “I’m tired of being politically correct when I talk about God.” Mrs. Ford’s expression displayed distaste. “We shouldn’t have to pretend to be open-minded with non-believers.”

  “It’s about respect,” Inaya said, surprising herself by the confidence in her voice. “We don’t have to believe what they believe. But we do have to respect them.”

  Mrs. Ford grunted. “Not with atheists, pagans, and Muslims.”

  So there it was out in the open, Mrs. Ford’s contempt for people like Inaya. Inaya pressed a palm against a box to apply a label, her gaze on her trembling hands. She was unable to hold Mrs. Ford’s challenging gaze, but Inaya refused to remain silent on this one.

  “Why not?” Inaya’s heart thumped until she could feel it in her throat. Her eyes danced between Mrs. Ford and the file boxes. “We can’t judge someone just because they don’t believe like we do.”

  “Well, I’ll leave the Day of Judgment to God,” Mrs. Ford said as she rolled her eyes. “But in this school, I’ll do all I can to help fellow Christians.”

  Mrs. Ford smiled smugly, and Inaya looked away, feeling sick all of a sudden.

  “I can’t stop this country from destroying itself with multiculturalism,” Mrs. Ford said. “But I can make sure the Future Hope Scholarship doesn’t have the same fate.”

  ***

  The apartment was unusually quiet when Inaya pushed open the door late that afternoon. She stepped inside and locked the door after she closed it behind herself. In the foyer, she took off her khimaar and jilbaab and hung them on the coatrack.

  The sadness she’d felt early that morning weighed on her limbs as she dragged herself to the bathroom to prepare for prayer. She hated herself for combining Dhuhr and Asr prayers when she returned from school instead of praying them at their proper times. But no matter how much she told herself she didn’t care what the non-Muslim students and teachers thought of her, everything she did showed that she did care.

  What didn’t make sense to Inaya was why. Other than Mrs. Ford, there wasn’t any staff member who Inaya imagined would mistreat her because of her religion. But besides Nasra, Kayla, and the small circle of friends Inaya had known when she first enrolled in the school, no other students or staff knew her faith. “Inaya Donald” was inconspicuous enough—coupled with a “normal” I.D. picture, so it was unlikely that the possibility of Inaya being Muslim had even crossed anyone’s mind.

  Inaya thought of her mother, and there was a throbbing at her temples. What would her mother do if she found out?

  Inaya stepped into the bathroom and turned on the water, leaving the door ajar. She held her open palms under the stream, the cold shocking her senses momentarily. Inaya’s eyes met her reflection, and for a few seconds she stared at the girl looking back at her.

  “I appreciate anything you can do,” Raymond had told her. “I don’t think there’s anyone else I could ask.”

  Inaya lowered her eyes and mumbled the name of Allah to start her wudhoo. She rubbed the now warm water on both hands and wondered at how complicated love was.

  Inaya felt embarrassed for putting a word to how she felt for Raymond, but love was the only word that unscrambled for her the excitement, confusion, and hope that never left her heart. It couldn’t be lust, she thought, because she had no desire to commit sin. But she couldn’t deny how Raymond made her feel.

  O Allah, Inaya’s heart cried. Is that wrong?

  The sound of the phone ringing made Inaya start. She glanced toward the hall then quickly completed the ritual cleansing for prayer. After wiping a wet hand over the top of her socks, she rushed to the living room and picked up the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Inaya. What’s up?”

  Inaya’s heart raced at the sound of Raymond’s voice. “Hey,” she said more casually than she felt.

  “As-salaamu’alaikum, I mean,” Raymond said, laughter in his voice.

  “Wa’alaiku-mus-salaam,” Inaya said, unable to keep from laughing herself.

  “Your Dad said you’re coming to stay with him for a while.”

  Inaya’s smile faded, forehead creased. “What?”

  “He said your mother and stepfather asked if you could stay with him for some time.” Raymond’s tone sounded uncertain, as if doubting he’d understood properly. “That’s not true?”

  “I…I don’t know.” Inaya’s mind raced as she recalled the argument with her mother. She glanced about her and wondered where her mother and Sa’ad were right then. A sense of dread came over her.

  “Well…” Raymond said, hesitant. “He asked if Lyrica and I could pick you up because he can’t come get you.”

  Inaya’s heart constricted at the mention of Lyrica. “What time?”

  There was a slight pause. “Can we come now?”

  Inaya slapped a hand against her forehead. “Now?”

  “It’s okay,” Raymond said quickly. “Lyrica and I wanted to see a movie anyway, so we can just hang out at the mall. Just give me a call when you’re ready.”

  “Okay…” Inaya said, unable to keep from hating that it wasn’t her he’d be taking out. “Is this your number on the caller ID?”

  “Yes, it’s my cell phone,” Raymond said.

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “See you soon.” Raymond disconnected before Inaya could reply.

  Inaya hung up the phone and placed her hands on her hips as she digested everything. She finally shook her head in puzzlement then started to go pray. She halted her steps when she realized she should call her mother first.

  Perhaps her mother could explain the sudden decision to send Inaya to her father’s.

  Chapter 17

  Da’wah

  “Your mother isn’t feeling well right now,” Sa’ad had said to Inaya when he answered Veronica’s phone. “But she says she loves you and just needs some time to herself for a while.”

  In Raymond’s car, Inaya leaned her head on the back of the seat where she sat behind Lyrica. In the passenger seat in front of her, Lyrica was laughing at something Raymond had said, and Inaya’s thoughts drifted as she turned her head to look out the window next to her.

  Grayish white snow lined the streets in messy piles under the glow of streetlights, and Christmas decorations suggested a cheer that Inaya did not feel right then.

  “Raymond, you’re starting to creep me out,” Lyrica said. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you suddenly found religion.”

  Inadvertently, Inaya lifted her head and looked at Raymond, who turned slightly and met Inaya’s gaze with a guilty glance.

  What? Inaya thought as Raymond looked away and continued to drive. She doesn’t even know yet?

  Inside, Inaya groaned. This little da’wah project of his was going to be more than she bargained for. Inaya knew Raymond wanted her to just focus on the concept of God before discussing Islam with Lyrica, but Inaya had no idea Lyrica would know nothing of Raymond’s choice when that happened.

  Inaya drew in a deep breath and exhaled as she leaned her head back again. As excited as she should have been to have some time to herself and unlimited time with her father (and Raymond), Inaya couldn’t muster more than the feeling of subdued acceptance of her predicament.

  Was this what her life would forever be like? Tossed back and forth between people who cared about her but had lives of their own? Ironically, everyone saw Inaya’s place in their lives as a blessing. Why then couldn’t Inaya feel the same about her place in her own?

  “How’s the BOSS club going?” Lyrica said as they walked up the shoveled walkway leading to Chris’s townhouse.

  Inaya’s hands were deep in the pockets of her coat, and she turned her head at the sound of a dog barking coming from a home they passed. Her gaze rested on the large animal behind a screen door, and she wondered at how a person could leave a front door wide open in the middle of winter.

  “It’s going
okay, I guess,” Inaya said.

  Lyrica snickered. “How do you like Mrs. Ford?”

  “Hey, you made it!” The sound of her father’s voice interrupted Inaya’s thoughts, and she couldn’t keep from smiling at her father, who stood in the doorway of his house.

  “Merry Christmas,” Lyrica said as Chris stepped aside to let them in.

  Chris wore a puzzled look as he exchanged glances with Raymond, but Raymond just shrugged, a smile playing at one corner of his mouth.

  “Merry Christmas,” Chris muttered, a half smile on his face as he closed the door behind them.

  “Hey, where’s the tree?” Lyrica said as she shrugged off her coat. Her broad smile suggested her question was a friendly tease.

  “I’m not celebrating Christmas this year,” Chris said, a polite expression on his face as he took her coat.

  “High five to that,” Lyrica said, raising her palm to Chris.

  Laughing, Chris raised his palm and slapped hands with Lyrica.

  “You really don’t like religion, huh?” Chris said as he took Inaya’s coat and hung it over the crook in his arm on top of Lyrica’s coat.

  “I’ll go get Inaya’s bags,” Raymond said before Chris could take his coat.

  “Not particularly,” Lyrica said as Raymond opened the door and stepped back outside. A cold breeze drifted into the room, and Inaya rubbed her arms as she lowered herself onto the couch.

  “Why not?” Chris said, a half smile on his face as he opened the front closet and hung the coats inside. “It’s not like you created yourself.”

  “Nope,” Lyrica said with a grin. “I give my parents full credit for that.”

  Chris chuckled as he shut the closet door and sat down on the chair across from the couch. “You’re joking, right?”

  “No. I’m serious,” Lyrica said. “I don’t know any other way children are created. Do you?” Her tone was sarcastic as she lifted an eyebrow at Chris.