If I Should Speak

by Umm Zakiyyah

  Dee laughed. “Shhhh,” she told her, pressing her finger against her lips.

  “What’s wrong with that?” Tamika inquired, voice lowered, pleasurable surprise still detectable in her tone.

  Dee’s eyes widened, and her smile faded. She stared at Tamika with her forehead creased, surprised that she did not understand. “My parents’ll never go for it.”

  “But did you say yes?”

  She giggled. “Of course!”

  Tamika laughed, filled with excitement for her roommate. “Just let them meet him then.”

  Dee shook her head. “My dad will say no.”

  “Your dad’ll say no?” Tamika repeated, confused.

  “He has to give his permission first.”

  “Oh.” She had not realized that. “But—”

  “It’s a rule in Islam.”

  “But can’t you—”

  “It’s not so much that I’m stressed about the rule or anything,” Dee explained, interjecting. “Because I don’t even know if it matters sometimes.”

  Tamika listened.

  “Some days I wake up and wonder if I’m even Muslim.” Dee paused then added thoughtfully. “Or if I want to be anymore.”

  The words shocked Tamika, who stared at her in disbelief.

  “I know it’s wrong,” Dee admitted, searching for an explanation, more for herself than Tamika. “But I’m just tired sometimes, all the rules and stuff. I don’t know.” She sighed, eyes staring off again. “And anyway, I doubt I could marry him if I was.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t think he’d count as a Muslim.”

  “Your husband has to be Muslim?” Tamika did not know that.

  “Yeah.”

  Oh.

  “But he’s practically like me. His grandfather is Muslim.”

  “From Egypt?”

  “Yeah. But his father doesn’t really practice, because his dad’s mother wasn’t Muslim, and she raised him. His parents divorced when he was eight, and that’s when Islam left his life.”

  “Was he ever Muslim?” Tamika inquired, engrossed in the conversation, feeling as if she were uncovering a mystery.

  “As a boy,” Dee replied shrugging, “when he lived with both parents. But even then, his mother took him to church and stuff. But he prayed and everything, especially at his grandparents’ house.”

  “On his father’s side?”

  “Yeah, because his other grandparents are Christian.”

  “I see.”

  “But anyway, he believed it and everything.”

  “You mean Islam?”

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “But he’s like me. He knows it’s right, but he’s not really ‘there’ yet, you know, ready to be strict and everything.”

  “So he wants to be really Muslim?”

  Dee chuckled. “Yeah, I mean, you can go to Hell if you’re not, but,” she let out a deep breath. “But we just have to take it one step at a time. After we get married, we’re going to try to grow together and work step by step.” She added, “And we plan to raise our children Muslim.”

  “So you do want to stay Muslim.”

  “Eventually.” She paused, removing strands of hair from her face with her index finger. She was silent momentarily then added thoughtfully, “But not now.”

  The night drew on, the rain’s pattering quickening, becoming stronger, its rhythmic pattern almost indistinguishable on the tent’s coat. Tamika lay awake reflecting, imagining how Dee must feel right then, her desire to marry burning in her but then her family and religion pulling her another way. Tamika did not know if she could take it, all the pressure. Like Dee and Kevin, Tamika knew it was right, but it was a big step, a tremendous step. Becoming Muslim would mean changing a lot of things—a lot of things Tamika did not want to change.

  For weeks, Tamika pushed the possibility of becoming Muslim to the back of her mind again, relaxing somewhat, like Dee, taking it easy for the sake of her sanity. She did not want to rush into anything. After she thought about it, it made sense to wait. She did not want to jump into anything she was not ready for. When she became Muslim, she wanted to do it completely, not halfway, and she wanted to have certain things in place before then, one of them being a talk with her mother.

  Tamika did not think too much about her singing career. She had no idea how she would handle that one. But she understood she would eventually have to give it up, but so long as she was able to sing now, she did not think retiring would be half bad. After all, she would already have all the money and the fame, possibly on the pages of history as one of the best singers of all time. Who knew? And by then, it would not matter to her whether or not she sang.

  For the time being, Tamika focused on her classes and preparing for the formal performance. Her religion paper was coming along well, and her study skills were becoming better in her other classes. She actually began to entertain the possibility that she could have an A- GPA that semester. It was looking hopeful. She had even begun to call home often, telling her mother of her progress, and, of course, her mother was excited, taking advantage of her bragging rights prematurely, but Tamika did not care. That was her mother, and Tamika had grown used to her mother’s attitude about her education.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tamika and Dee spent the week before the Spring Formal in and out of both the mall and Kevin’s house, at the mall to purchase last minute accessories like cosmetics and jewelry and at Kevin’s house to practice their song. They were both nervous, and each could see that in the other, but neither spoke about it, determined not to get cold feet too soon. But Dee’s nervousness made Tamika on edge even more than she would be normally, having never seen Dee flinch at the mention of a performance. But Dee was flinching now, and this scared Tamika, reminding her that the performance was not only important but monumental. Tamika’s nervousness was heightened each time she thought of a producer being in the audience, there for the sole purpose of hearing Dee and her.

  At times Tamika felt down, thinking he may not come after all, believing that it was quite possible that all of her hopes and rehearsals had been in vain. Besides, she would think to herself, what would make a record producer want to come and hear her at some insignificant formal, the annual Spring Formal at their small town school? What if he did not show? What would she do? What could she do? She should stop thinking about it, Tamika often told herself, trying to force herself to remain level-headed. But it was difficult, because this show meant so much to her. It was possibly her foot-in-the-door, the door to fame, the door to being the singer she had always dreamed about, the singer that her mother and family doubted, the singer she always knew she could be.

  Late Thursday night, Tamika completed her final draft for her religion paper and all of the note cards for her presentation, freeing herself for the entire weekend, enabling her to relax and have fun. She slept soundly that night, a huge burden having been lifted from her, and she attended her classes the next morning with a clear mind, caring little about whatever else she had to do. For nothing could be as stressful as her religion term paper had been, and whatever assignments she would receive, she could finish Sunday—if she would even have anything due Monday, which she doubted.

  Friday afternoon Tamika and Dee went to their hair appointment, for which Dee paid, and returned that evening to their apartment and found Aminah sitting on the couch tapping away on her laptop computer. Dee had hoped Aminah would be gone by then, gone home for the weekend as was her routine. Dee did not want Aminah there while they were getting ready for the formal, because she did not want her to ruin their fun. This night was crucial for them both.

  “You’re still here?” Dee asked, laughing, concealing her intentions behind the inquiry.

  Aminah sighed, scratching her head then rubbing her hands over her face. “I know,” she chuckled, eyes still on the screen then tapping again. “I have to finish this paper.”

  “You didn’t finish?” Dee asked with concern, appearing as if
she was worried about Aminah’s class.

  “I did,” Aminah replied rolling her eyes as she recalled the experience. “But when I went to retrieve it, it wasn’t there.”

  Dee’s eyes widened with concern. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah.” Aminah sighed again and shook her head. “So I just called my mom and told her I’ll just have to come next weekend.” She forced laughter, but she was not happy. “I’ll be here a while.”

  Dee sucked her teeth, empathizing. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Oh well. It happens.”

  She nodded, now wondering what she should do.

  “But don’t mind me,” Aminah told her, aware that her presence may not be welcomed.

  “Well,” Dee laughed, not wanting to tell her but feeling obligated just then. “Don’t mind us. We’ll be getting ready and practicing and stuff.”

  Aminah’s forehead creased. “For what?”

  “The Spring Formal,” Dee replied as if Aminah should have known.

  “Oh yeah,” Aminah responded disinterested, her disapproval detectable in her tone although she tried to conceal it. “I forgot about that.”

  “So we’ll just be sashaying past in a few hours!” Dee joked.

  Aminah forced a smile and let her gaze fall to the screen, not wanting to discuss the inappropriateness of the event, having decided that she was going to stay out of Dee’s life. She was tired and drained, too weak to hold the both of them. She had her own soul to fend for. “When will you be back?” She decided that was a safe question.

  Dee laughed. “Don’t wait up for us.”

  Aminah wanted to glare at her friend, but she decided against it. “Tomorrow morning then?”

  “Sunday morning.”

  She stared at her friend, her expression confused and scolding, but she had not intended it to be. “Sunday?” she repeated incredulously.

  Dee laughed again, not wanting to argue. “Yes, girl,” she joked with Aminah, although she knew Aminah was not enjoying it. “There’re a lot of activities going on through Saturday night.”

  Aminah nodded, resuming her typing but fuming inside. Durrah irked her sometimes. Why was everything so funny? Had she lost her mind? Her religion?

  “But we better go on and get dressed,” Dee said, starting toward the bedroom. “We don’t have that much time.”

  Tamika followed, saying nothing, but inside she was angry that Dee felt obligated to explain herself to Aminah. Who was Aminah? Her mother? Her keeper? But she did not share her frustrations with Dee, because she understood that Dee liked to avoid confrontation and ill feelings towards people, even if she felt slighted within.

  In the room, Tamika took in a deep breath and let it out, calming herself, trying to focus on what was most important, the Spring Formal, and not what was trivial—Aminah. The last thing she needed on her big night was to be diverted by petty issues and end up being distracted while on stage.

  Tamika and Dee spent the next couple of hours in front of the mirror, applying make-up and adjusting their hair and dresses, exchanging little conversation in the quiet room, but neither felt awkward in the silence, not this time. The enormity of tonight weighed heavily on them, filling their minds. As the time to leave drew nearer, Tamika felt her heart begin to pound, staring at herself in the mirror thinking, this was it. It was actually time. Time to perform.

  The friends took in a deep breath at the same time and let it out, and they both laughed. Then they calmed themselves and gazed kindly at each other, each one reading the other’s expression of empathy and fear. Dee smiled at Tamika, who was dressed in the long, black silk dress with spaghetti straps, the dress she had purchased for her. She looked beautiful, Dee admired. The gold necklace sparkled from Tamika’s neck, as did the gold earrings from her ears. And Tamika smiled at Dee, who was dressed in a long black dress similar to hers but with three spaghetti straps on each shoulder. Dee’s hair was pulled tightly back in a bun, small sections of her hair dangling on one side of her face and down her back in soft spirals. She seemed to adorn the gold leaf earrings that she wore instead of them adorning her.

  At that moment, Tamika found it difficult to believe that she was actually standing there, there opposite Dee, the Dee she had read about in newspapers and local magazines, the Dee whom she admired, the Dee who was a model and a singer, a young woman who had at her young age achieved what Tamika had always wanted to. It was breathtaking to even look at her, but it was even more breathtaking to know that she was her partner this time. Dee was no longer a name and picture in the newspaper but also her friend, who would likely walk with her on the road to success.

  They left the room, knowing they should leave then to arrive on time if they planned to be there so that Kevin and the others who were arranging the event could explain to them what they needed to know.

  Upon seeing them, Aminah wanted to remind Dee to pray, but she stopped herself as she noticed Dee was elegantly dressed, nails polished and make-up perfect. There was no chance that Dee would disrupt all of that by rubbing water on it, and in any case, the nail polish would have to be removed before she could even be fully ready for prayer, because the ablution was invalid if performed with any unnecessary obstruction to reaching the necessary parts, the fingernails being one. So, instead, she just smiled and said, “As-salaamu-alaikum.”

  “Wa-alaikum-salaam,” Dee replied, putting on her coat, and Tamika did the same. A second later they disappeared into the hallway, the door shutting behind them. The sound of the keys locking was the last sound Aminah heard before she had the apartment to herself for the weekend.

  Although sad that Dee and Tamika were going to a formal, full of music and intermingling between men and women, Aminah was grateful that she was alone. She could now focus on her term paper. She imagined that if Dee and Tamika had been there during the weekend, she would not get as much done, because her mind would have been on them, and they would have interrupted her thoughts even if they did not intend to.

  Aminah had fallen asleep and awoke glancing around, unaware that she had been that tired but feeling refreshed nonetheless. She instinctively glanced at the clock, and, surprised, she rubbed her eyes, hoping she was reading it correctly. But just as she had read a moment before, it was 10:58. How long had she slept, she wondered?

  Just then her mind drifted to Durrah and Tamika, the two friends, one of them who used to be her best friend. But Durrah had found someone else, someone who was not stress-provoking, not pestering—not Muslim. It hurt, Aminah could not deny that, a twinge of envy burning within her. She loved Durrah a great deal. They had been through a lot together, had grown up together and had been friends for as long as she could remember.

  But Aminah had to let go. Their lives had diverged so dramatically from each other, each following a different path, both clinging to it tenaciously.

  But that was how it was in life, in friendships. They came and went, although many would argue that a true friendship never waned, and if it did wane, this was an indication that it had never been a friendship at all. But Aminah disagreed, for she felt strongly in her heart that what she and Durrah had had was friendship, a genuine friendship. But it had merely faded, brushed away as their desires and goals changed. But it had been there once, and Aminah ached for it again, the late night talks, the sleepovers, the pillow fights, the corny knock-knock jokes. But, most especially, she longed for the religious talks, the ones about Hell Fire and Heaven, the ones about Judgment Day, talks that left them both dumbstruck with fright, determined to never go astray, to never even miss as much as a voluntary prayer.

  But as was often said, time changed people. Or was it that some people changed with time? Due to the unwise choices of some and the judicious choices of others? One could not blame time for change. Time was merely time, and no fault could be assigned to it based merely upon what happened as it moved on. For time only afforded a person the option, the option to do good or evil. And whoever chose the latter could only blame he
rself. For time had no will, and it forced no one to think scantily about it. But, rather, it offered each person what they needed…and that was a chance to change.

  The mistress of ceremonies introduced Dee and Tamika so precisely, so eloquently that Tamika momentarily wondered if she knew the young lady, but after studying the MC, Tamika was certain that she did not. Then Tamika’s mind was someplace else, although only for a split second, when the MC returned the microphone to its place, a signal that it was their moment, their time to shine. The hush of the audience brought Tamika back to reality. Her mind raced, fixed upon the presence of the producer, who had definitely come. Tamika and Dee had met him earlier, his beautiful wife on his arm. His eyes were on her, Tamika knew, as most scrutiny would be directed at her. Dee’s ingenuity was already known. The pressure was now on Tamika to not disappoint all of those watching, awaiting. The MC had mentioned that the words of the song were Tamika’s, and at that moment Tamika wished that piece of information would have been saved, saved for the end, if the performance was good. But now her heart pounded so fiercely that she could feel it in her throat, her hands shaking like she never knew possible. As she ascended the steps to the stage behind Dee, she hoped Dee would take the lead. Tamika needed to be a leech, if only for a moment. Her head was spinning, and she momentarily doubted that any of this was real.

  Tamika heard her breath in the microphone as she exhaled, and Dee smiled, the same smile Tamika remembered from the performance she had seen a year before. Tamika felt as if she did not belong, as if there was some mistake, but when Kevin’s music began to play, she knew that that was her cue.

  “How,” Dee almost whispered in her singing voice, and Tamika joined in, grateful that Dee had sang the first note. “How,” they sang, stretching out the words so beautifully that it shocked Tamika.

  How can I find the words to describe, to tell?

  Tell of my lessons, how I stood, how I fell?