by Ayad Akhtar
ZARINA: Which is what I was trying—
ELI: But he’s nothing like the man I know. I didn’t recognize him, Zarina. I didn’t recognize the man I fell in love with when I became a Muslim. I mean the man in your book is overwhelmed. He’s not always clear if he’s hearing voices or going crazy or if it’s God speaking to him. He’s confused about his desires. We see him maneuvering for political advantage—
ZARINA: And he’s charismatic and inspiring and generous, too.
(Beat)
I thought you understood what I was doing.
ELI: I do.
ZARINA: Apparently not.
Beat.
ELI: I’m concerned. It’s very convincing. You’re a very good writer, Zarina. And I’m worried that what you’re putting out there is going to make people who don’t know…—make them think that’s who the Prophet really was.
ZARINA: Nobody knows who the Prophet really was. We hear these stories from our parents—
ELI: Yes, and the man in those stories matters to people. They think they know him. They love that man. The one who goes to visit the old woman who threw garbage on him every day on his way to the mosque—
ZARINA: Really?—
ELI:—knocks on her door on the one day that she doesn’t dump trash on him, finds her sick in bed, and spends the day taking care of her. A woman who wished him nothing but ill.
ZARINA: And George Washington didn’t actually chop down a cherry tree, Eli.
ELI: Does it matter? If the story makes people want to be more honest? Or more compassionate? Who cares if it’s—Isn’t that the deeper truth?
ZARINA: No. It’s not.
ELI: Well, I don’t know if I agree with you.
Pause.
ZARINA: You encouraged me.
ELI: I just didn’t realize… how much you hated the man.
ZARINA: I don’t hate him.
I hate what the faith does to women. For every story about his generosity or his goodness, there’s another that’s used as an excuse to hide us. Erase us. And the story of the veil takes the cake.
ELI: I get it, but the young men and women in my mosque… the people you’re trying to reach? If they don’t recognize the man you’re writing about, they’re not going to listen to you.
Long pause.
ZARINA: God. All that time. And if the person I dedicated it to doesn’t even…
ELI: I have a lot at stake. The congregation…
(Beat, going to her)
Zarina.
ZARINA: No. You don’t get to touch me.
ELI: Why not?
ZARINA: Why would you want to touch someone who hates the Prophet so much?
Beat.
ELI: So should I not have said anything? If you didn’t want to hear—
ZARINA (Getting emotional): That’s right, Eli. You shouldn’t have said anything.
(Beat, reaching for manuscript)
Can I have it back?
ELI: No.
ZARINA: Why?
ELI: I was planning on reading it again. That’s why I didn’t want to talk about it yet.
ZARINA: If you hate it so much—
ELI: I don’t hate it. Can’t you see I’m conflicted? I mean—Isn’t that what good art is supposed to do?
Pause.
ZARINA: That’s sweet.
ELI: I’m not trying to be sweet.
ZARINA: It’s still sweet.
Beat.
ELI: I love you.
ZARINA: You still do?
ELI: It’s not just the congregation. I’m worried people won’t understand what you’re doing. And I don’t want anything to happen to you.
Act Two: Scene Two
The same day. Sometime in the early afternoon.
Afzal’s kitchen.
Eli under the sink. Afzal watches him from the counter.
AFZAL: How’s it look?
ELI (From under sink): Not so bad. It was just clogged.
AFZAL: What a luxury.
ELI: What’s that?
AFZAL: A son-in-law who can fix anything.
ELI: You got lucky. My eleven o’clock canceled.
AFZAL: Good man, good man.
(Beat)
So what’s happening with that award?
ELI (Emerging from under the sink): It’s official.
AFZAL: Young Muslim Leader of the Year?
ELI: So they say.
AFZAL: Quite an honor. You deserve it.
ELI: Well, they’re not exactly my favorite organization in the world.
AFZAL: What’s wrong with the Muslim Association of North America?
ELI: They’re a little conservative. They like telling people what it means to be Muslim more than I’m comfortable with. To you, your Islam. To me, mine.
AFZAL: They’re giving you their award. How conservative can they—
ELI: C’mon, Afzal. I’m a white convert.
AFZAL: So what?
ELI: You’re really gonna pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about?
AFZAL: Those who come to the faith of their own will, that’s a very special thing—
ELI: Doesn’t seem so special when African Americans do it. Am I wrong?
(Off Afzal’s silence)
But when a white guy does it? Suddenly it’s like the Red Sea parts.
AFZAL: Look…
It’s always an honor when one of your kind chooses our way of life. We’ll take our rare victories in these dark times.
ELI: Yeah, well. It bothers me.
AFZAL: Why? You’re the one reaping the benefit. Enjoy it—
(Suddenly remembering)
Oh…
Afzal pulls an envelope from his back pocket. Lays it on the counter.
ELI: What’s that?
AFZAL: Cash.
ELI: For what?
AFZAL: For services rendered.
ELI (Checking the envelope): Afzal. How much is this?
AFZAL: Five thousand.
ELI: Five thousand. For the sink?
(Handing it back to Afzal)
We’ve been through this before. I’m fine.
AFZAL: Yes, we have been through it. You’re not fine. You need the money. Both of you.
ELI: We don’t.
AFZAL: Eli. My daughter is not used to wanting for things. Just take it.
ELI: No disrespect, but if the money’s for her, you should give it to her directly.
Afzal looks at Eli, askance.
AFZAL: Money is a man’s matter. It is out of respect for you—as a man—that I am giving it to you and not her.
ELI: I appreciate that. And as a man, I’m telling you I don’t want it.
AFZAL: What’s the big deal?
ELI: No.
AFZAL: Come on.
ELI: Afzal!
AFZAL: Put it into the mosque if you don’t want it for your family. Put it into the soup kitchen. I don’t care.
ELI: You’re already building us an addition.
AFZAL: And happy to be doing it. Couldn’t be happier. What does the Prophet say? Build a house of God and you’ve built your own in heaven.
ELI: Appreciated by lots of us down here below, too.
AFZAL: You won’t take the driver. You won’t take the money.
ELI: Don’t need a driver. I drive myself.
AFZAL: You know how many knuckleheads I’ve got on payroll listening to their iPods and playing video games all day long? Might as well put them to work.
ELI: Doesn’t look good for the Imam to be driven around.
AFZAL: Just thought it might help…
ELI: Help with what?
Beat.
AFZAL: For what it’s worth, a woman likes to know she’s with a man, Eli.
ELI: Right.
AFZAL: I know my daughter. She needs to feel protected, by a strong man. With a strong hand. Cash doesn’t hurt. It can make up for some of the other things…
ELI: Other things?
AFZAL: You think I don’t see what’s goin
g on between the two of you?
(Beat)
She has the power. She has the power she shouldn’t have.
ELI: What are you talking about?
AFZAL: Fine. Fair enough. You’re right. You’re right. I should mind my own business.
ELI: Yes. You should.
AFZAL: So there is a problem.
ELI: You’re really something.
AFZAL: What’s going on? Just tell me. I can help you.
ELI: Nothing.
AFZAL: At the function last night. With the cranberry juice. What was all of that?
ELI: Miscommunication.
AFZAL: I would never let a woman speak to me like that in public.
ELI: She’s been a little stressed.
AFZAL: About what?
ELI: She just finished her book, and—
AFZAL (Coming in): Thank God she finally got that out of her system! Now she can concentrate on something that actually matters. Children.
ELI: I wouldn’t hold your breath.
AFZAL: Why not?
ELI: She’s not sure she wants kids.
AFZAL: What the hell—
What the hell does what she wants…
Just be a man. Put it in her. Get her pregnant. Women don’t always know what they want.
ELI: She’s on birth control.
AFZAL: Birth control? She’s already thirty-three. It’s not going to get any easier. She doesn’t have that much time left…
She’s headstrong. Just headstrong. We both know where it comes from, but the truth is, what’s an advantage in a man isn’t always in a woman. It can be an impediment to a woman’s happiness.
She’s my daughter. I know her. She needs room to breathe. But not too much room.
She has more power over you than she really wants. She can’t help it.
And she won’t be happy until you break her, son. She needs you to take it on, man.
ELI (Indignant): Break her?
AFZAL: Don’t act so offended.
ELI: I am offended.
AFZAL (Interrupting): Well that’s part of the problem. You need some breaking, too. You’re too passive.
ELI: Women don’t need to be broken. They need to be heard.
AFZAL: Fine.
ELI: Seen. Respected.
AFZAL: Forget the generalizations. Okay?
I’ll grant you I don’t know anything about women. Not. A. Thing.
But I know about us. Where we come from.
Zarina’s not an American girl. You understand that, right? I mean, she is, in some ways. But not in others.
(Beat)
Her mother’s family was from Frontier. You know Frontier Province, right?
ELI: Sure.
AFZAL: They are not the most progressive people, Eli. More loyal you will never find. Willing to give you everything they have. A Pashtun friend? A friend for life. They are a wonderful people. Just a little backward.
Now Zarina’s mother—bless her soul—she was not like that. And her mother’s mother was not like that. But she grew up around cousins and uncles and aunties who were. There are women on that side of the family, I’ve never seen their faces.
Zarina’s mother? Hated the veil. She never wore it. But the structure of that culture, the man at the center, that was in her bones. And you know what? It helped me. She needed me to become stronger. To be more of a man. I had to find it in myself. She made me. She made my success possible.
(Beat)
Marriage is a mysterious thing, Eli. Mysterious and magical.
Eli is listening. Making his own connections.
AFZAL (CONT’D): I know what you’re thinking: Zarina is different. She’s not.
She is her mother’s daughter. Sure, she’s brilliant. We know that. I mean when they gave her that IQ test in fourth grade, nobody could believe the score. She probably got that from her mother’s side, but don’t get me wrong. There was nobody that smart anywhere in the family.
When her mother died…
And after what happened with that Ryan…
ELI: Ryan.
AFZAL: She told you all about that…
ELI: Some guy she dated in grad school?
AFZAL (Surprised): Dated? She didn’t…
ELI: What?
(Beat)
Afzal?
AFZAL: What?
ELI: What is it?
AFZAL: If it’s not… Then it’s not my place to—
ELI: It’s your place to give me advice on breaking your daughter, but not to tell me about what happened with Ryan?
Afzal considers.
AFZAL: I didn’t know what it was, dating. We don’t have it. With Mahwish it was never a problem. She always had that boy Haroon. Who I knew since he was a child. Now they’re married.
(Beat)
In college, if Zarina did some dating, she never told me. I’m sure she told her mother things. But they never mentioned to me. When Zarina was getting her MFA, she met this… Ryan. She didn’t tell me until her mother was very sick. And then her mother died.
(Beat)
I thought—at the time—it was something she needed. I didn’t stop it. Not right away. That was my mistake. Either I should have stopped it or allowed it.
ELI: What happened?
AFZAL: He came to Atlanta, Christmas 2009. A solid fellow. Catholic. Irish. You know the type. But very smart. Could keep up with that mind of hers. Like you.
He came to my office. Very respectful. Asked for her hand in marriage.
ELI: They wanted to get married?
AFZAL: Over my dead body. That’s what I told him. Zarina cried that night. Oh my God, she cried. But when it was over, it was over.
Pause.
ELI: When what was over?
AFZAL (Perhaps with a hint of pride): She broke up with him.
Just like the Prophet’s daughter did. Left the man she loved, because he wouldn’t become a Muslim.
ELI: Right.
Pause. Eli is visibly troubled.
AFZAL: Eli…
Pause.
ELI: I—uh—I need to step outside. I need some air.
Afzal watches him go. Regretful.
His gaze comes to rest on Eli’s bag.
Afzal has an idea. Stepping over, he takes out the envelope of cash from his pocket and slips it into the bag. But as he does, he notices something. He reaches inside and pulls out Zarina’s manuscript. Looking at the cover.
He looks up in the direction in which Eli walked off. Then back down at the pages in his hands. Which he now peruses. Confused. Surprised. And not pleasantly.
He looks up again. Then slips the manuscript into a kitchen drawer.
Act Two: Scene Three
Zarina on her couch.
Mahwish stands beside her, looking worried.
ZARINA: What were you doing in Decatur? That’s nowhere near—
MAHWISH (Coming in): They have great coffee there.
ZARINA (Skeptical): Wish.
MAHWISH: Okay. Manuel usually hangs out there after class. I mean he did last year.
ZARINA: So what happened?
MAHWISH: He asked me if I wanted to see his place. He lives around the corner from that coffee shop.
(Beat)
We went up the stairs. He went into the kitchen and got me an ice tea. When he gave it to me, our hands touched. It was amazing. And then he kissed me.
ZARINA: Manuel kissed you?
MAHWISH: God. It was like our lips melted into each other.
(Beat)
I had to go. I had nursing class. I went outside. There’s this magnolia tree in his courtyard. That pink against the blue sky. Everything looked different.
Pause.
ZARINA: So you’re not leaving anything out?
MAHWISH: Well, we made out.
ZARINA: So you didn’t sleep with him?
MAHWISH: Of course not! Zarina! Is that what you think of me? That I would sleep with Manuel?
ZARINA: I wouldn’t judge you if you did.
MAHWISH: I would judge myself.
Beat.
ZARINA: I mean, you did marry the only guy you ever kissed, Wish.
Pause.
MAHWISH: When we were kids, remember how you always used to say you wanted to marry Dad when you grew up…
