by Umm Zakiyyah
“I don’t do babysitting,” Aliyah had overheard Deanna say to someone once. At the time, Aliyah had thought nothing of it. She had assumed Deanna had meant she didn’t babysit as a hobby or profession. Aliyah herself didn’t “do babysitting,” but since she considered Deanna her best friend and an “aunty” to her son, Aliyah was usually more than happy to babysit for Deanna if she needed it. But before this moment, Aliyah hadn’t realized that this sisterly, selfless relationship was uncannily tilted in only one person’s favor, Deanna’s.
Aliyah had naively assumed that Deanna’s help with getting the college post, Deanna’s periodic monetary “sadaqah,” and Deanna’s eagerness to continuously “drop everything” and be by Aliyah’s side to offer comfort and advice was coming from a place of genuine love, compassion, and mutual respect. But now that the cloud of helplessness was being lifted from Aliyah’s outlook on life, she was beginning to understand why being in Deanna’s presence continuously inspired anxiety and apprehension.
Aliyah was anxious and apprehensive around Deanna because Aliyah had experienced this all before —in her relationship with her mother and her eldest sister. After more than ten years of Aliyah being Muslim and continuously reaching out to her family via phone calls, postcards, and emails, they refused to speak to her because her mother and sister (the unofficial heads of household) felt that her Islamic faith and hijab “embarrassed the family.” Though they attended church at least once a month and often spoke of the importance of Christian love and compassion, they weren’t religious people; so their contempt for Aliyah’s religious choice was genuinely rooted in social image and reputation. Before they had cut off ties with her completely, they obstinately maintained that Aliyah had no right to a lifestyle that they didn’t approve of “after all we’ve done for you.”
One day you’re going to realize that some people only help you so they can control the outcome.
Yes, Deanna, Aliyah thought to herself as she closed her laptop, and that “one day” is now.
Chapter 6
The Perfect Man
“Thank you all for coming tonight,” Jacob said as he stood in front of the conference room in the math and science building Monday night. “Twice a year we host an information session about our scholarship and internship programs for high school students interested in pursuing math or science as a major. Our department offers academic as well as financial-need based awards.” He lifted the small remote and aimed it toward the projector screen. “As you can see, each summer we host a one-on-one internship mentoring program for qualified high school juniors and seniors who show exceptional promise in the fields of mathematics and science. This mentoring program, entitled One Plus One Equals Won, I personally founded, and I continue to work as project manager in training mentors and occasionally working directly with interns. The program also—”
“I wouldn’t mind him mentoring me,” a female high school student whispered suggestively to her friend, who giggled and nodded in agreement before saying, “Mm hm. Where do we sign up?”
Instinctively, Aliyah, who was sitting in the last two rows reserved for math and science faculty, looked at the girls in front of her. But she could make out only the backs of their heads.
“…So if you have any questions,” Jacob said, “you can talk to me or any of my colleagues who are wearing the green One Plus One badge. You’ll also find more information in the packet that we’ve given each of—”
“I have a question,” whispered the girl with a butterfly clip holding her ponytail in place. “Is he married or single?”
“I don’t care if he’s married or single,” whispered back the girl with a mass of synthetic braids spilling over the back of her chair.
“I know, right?” said the butterfly-clip girl.
The synthetic-braids girl snickered, and they both nodded emphatically. “And you know what?” said the synthetic-braids girl, a hint of humorous sarcasm in her tone. “I’m no longer undecided. Whatever he majored in, I’m majoring in.”
“I’m with you on th—”
“Shhhh.” The shushing sound was so insistent that Aliyah assumed it must have come from one of the high school teachers present, but she couldn’t be sure. But it silenced the girls right away, and they immediately straightened themselves in their seats and remained quiet.
As she listened to the rest of the program, Aliyah found herself wondering how old the girls in front of her were. Sixteen? Seventeen? Eighteen? Jacob was in his thirties, probably pushing forty. Aliyah wondered if that mattered to them. Or perhaps his actual age hadn’t crossed their minds. Dressed in black slacks and a short-sleeved shirt that revealed his well-toned arms, Jacob did look younger than his age.
A ripple of laughter sounded throughout the room, and Aliyah saw Jacob chuckling to himself, his expression indicating that he had just said something humorous. Most of the high school students were laughing, the butterfly-clip and synthetic-braids girls laughing more heartily than everyone else. A smile crept onto Aliyah’s face as she glanced around her, as if that gesture would reveal to her what Jacob had said.
“Again, thank you,” Jacob said, nodding his head politely before gathering and stacking the papers that were scattered on a table next to him. There was a roar of applause as he returned to his seat in the first row.
***
“As-salaamu’alaikum.”
Aliyah turned from where she stood surveying the refreshment table and found Jacob standing behind her. The presentation segment had ended forty minutes ago, and now the guests were eating, milling around, or stopping by the information tables set up along the peripheral of the conference room.
“Wa’aliku mus salaam,” Aliyah said, a smile forming on her face. “That was a really good presentation, mashaAllah.”
“You should join us,” Jacob said before taking a sip from the paper cup he was holding.
Aliyah furrowed her brows and shook her head. “Join what?”
“One Plus One.”
“Your mentoring program?”
A shadow of a grin played at Jacob’s mouth. “I wouldn’t call it my mentoring program.”
Aliyah chuckled self-consciously. “I’m sorry. I meant—”
“Dr. Bivens,” a middle-aged woman with graying hair said as she stepped between Aliyah and Jacob. Aliyah stepped back as the woman grabbed hold of Jacob’s free hand and squeezed it affectionately. “Thank you so much for that. Your work with this program is absolutely amazing. I follow you on Twitter, and I just think you are—”
Feeling awkward, Aliyah stepped out of earshot and resumed surveying the refreshment table. She spotted some soft fruit pastries that looked appetizing and walked down to the end of the table to get herself a plate then served herself two pastries, quieting the voice in her head that said they were unhealthy. She sat in one of the many empty seats and set the paper plate next to her as she opened her handbag and removed her iPad. After powering it on, she tapped the icon for her downloaded books and selected the eBook she had begun reading a week before. She then lifted a pastry in one hand and nibbled on it while holding the iPad with the other. To avoid ruining the iPad screen, she set the iPad on her lap whenever she needed to scroll down and avoid touching the screen with sticky fingers of her other hand.
“I love that head cloth.”
Aliyah looked up and saw the middle-aged woman from minutes before pausing as she passed. The woman squeezed Aliyah’s shoulder compassionately.
“It looks beautiful on you,” the woman said.
“Thank you,” Aliyah said as the woman walked toward the exit. Self-consciously, Aliyah ran a hand over the soft fabric of the sea green hijab she was wearing. The khimaar was one of her favorites, and she wore it so often that some of the threads were loose. But she would find new ways of folding it so that she could keep wearing it whenever she wanted.
“I hate that,” Jacob said, settling in a chair a couple of seats away from Aliyah.
“What?”
&
nbsp; “When women are all touchy-feely.”
Aliyah chuckled. “I always wondered how Muslim brothers handled that.”
“We don’t,” Jacob said, peering briefly into his paper cup before drinking the last bit of juice. “We deal with it. We don’t have a choice.”
“It’s a good thing non-Muslim men don’t feel so comfortable touching Muslim women.”
“You think so?” Jacob said, intrigued. “What about during interviews or introductions?”
Aliyah nodded thoughtfully. “Except for that, I suppose. But I usually just tell them I don’t shake hands with men.”
“Does it work?” Jacob said doubtfully.
Aliyah lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Not always honestly. Sometimes they take my hand before I can say anything. But when they extend their hand, I always feel horrible for not shaking it.”
Jacob was silent momentarily. “Do you think it’s wrong? Shaking hands with the opposite sex?”
“Yes,” Aliyah said. “But I’m not sure I’d call it haraam. More like inappropriate.”
“That makes sense.”
“What about you? Do you think it’s haraam?”
“I think haraam is a pretty serious word,” Jacob said. “When I think of something forbidden, I think of what Allah forbids in the Qur’an specifically. I’m not comfortable putting that label on anything else.”
Aliyah nodded, unsure what to say. She couldn’t help feeling that the casual conversation itself was “not quite haraam, but inappropriate.” Before Jacob had admitted that he actually called her uncle Benjamin about marrying her as a second wife, Aliyah thought nothing of occasionally conversing with Jacob at work. But now, everything felt wrong. She wondered what had motivated Jacob to make that phone call to her uncle, or series of phone calls, apparently. For someone like Jacob to actively pursue polygyny, he had to have good reason to believe that it was both possible and worth the risk.
Aliyah hoped she had never unintentionally given Jacob the impression that she was attracted to him. The mere possibility petrified her. Was it possible that a fleeting concern for her appearance had translated into a detectable change in behavior? O Allah, she thought, forgive me.
Naturally, Aliyah was aware of Jacob’s attractiveness; it was impossible not to be. But she noticed the attractiveness of many men she saw and interacted with each day. That didn’t mean she was attracted to them, did it?
“So do you think you’ll join our mentoring program?” Jacob said.
Aliyah kept her eyes on the iPad balanced on her lap as she scrolled down the screen using her left forefinger. She shook her head, partially eaten pastry in her other hand. “I’m not sure I’d be a good fit.”
“Dr. Warren asked me why you hadn’t signed up.”
“She did?” Aliyah’s eyes widened, hopeful, as she looked at Jacob. Aliyah was surprised that her supervisor believed that she could be considered for a mentoring position.
Jacob chuckled, shaking his head as he looked down, as if enjoying a private joke. “The students really like you, Aliyah,” he said, looking in her direction again, smiling with his eyes. “You know that?”
Aliyah averted her gaze as she took a bite from the pastry in her hand. She never knew how to take compliments. She shook her head. “Don’t believe everything you hear,” she joked weakly, her left hand scrolling the iPad again though she wasn’t sure what she was looking for.
“I’m not only saying that because you’re a family friend,” Jacob said, the word family calming Aliyah’s nerves a bit. “I mean it. You’re one of our best first-year professors.”
A nervous smile tugged at her lips. “MashaAllah,” she muttered gratefully. “Thanks for telling me.”
“I’m your department head,” he said, laughter in his voice. “It’s my job to tell you.”
Aliyah chuckled self-consciously. “I suppose that’s true.”
“And I’ll tell you in more detail when we have our evaluation meeting in a few weeks, insha’Allah.”
“I hate evaluation meetings,” she said. That was unnecessary, she told herself, uncomfortable with the seamless honesty of her words. She should not be speaking to him like he was a good friend.
“Tell me about it,” he agreed, shaking his head.
Aliyah laughed beside herself. “But you have tenure.”
“I mean I hate doing evaluations,” he said. “I don’t like sitting people down and telling them their faults. I wish there was another way to get the point across.”
“You handled our first meetings pretty well, mashaAllah,” Aliyah said. “I was doing a lot of things wrong, but the way you explained it felt more like helpful suggestions than listing my faults.”
“That’s good to know,” Jacob said, his eyes thoughtful and distant. “It’s just that with some professors, there really isn’t much positivity to cushion the helpful suggestions with.”
“Are you serious?” Aliyah said, humor in her voice. “Are some of us that bad?”
“You don’t want to know,” Jacob said, a sad smile on his face. “Sometimes I hate this job.”
“But you’re so good at it.” Aliyah cringed at her words. Why did you say that?
Jacob chuckled self-consciously. “I’m glad you think so. Knowing that makes it a whole lot easier to come to work each day.”
Aliyah couldn’t tell if he was joking or serious, but she willed herself not to ask. She finished the last bit of pastry and wiped her hands with a napkin before shutting down her iPad.
“You heading out now?”
“Yes,” Aliyah said, apologizing in her tone. “I have some things to do before I go to sleep.”
“How’s my brother Larry treating you?” Jacob said, brotherly teasing in his tone.
Aliyah smiled in thoughtful reflection. “Good, mashaAllah. I really like him.”
Awkward silence lingered as Aliyah opened her handbag and slipped the iPad inside.
“He was always pretty levelheaded,” Jacob said sincerely. “I always knew he’d do something great one day.”
“Something great?” Aliyah said quizzically as she glanced at Jacob.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” Jacob said quickly.
Aliyah creased her forehead, confused. “Mean it like what?”
Jacob’s expression conveyed mortification. “I’m sorry. I thought you thought I was talking about…”
Cheeks aflame, Aliyah looked away, realizing that he thought that she’d misunderstood “something great” to be in reference to marrying her. She pulled the straps of her purse over her shoulder as she stood, giving Jacob a polite tightlipped smile. “As-salaamu’alaikum, Dr. Bivens,” she said before walking sideways to the end of the row of chairs.
“Wa’aliku mus salaam, Professor Thomas,” she heard Jacob say, sounding subdued, as she headed toward the exit.
***
“Will you marry me?”
It was Saturday afternoon, and Aliyah sat in a mall restaurant booth next to Ibrahim, who was kicking his legs gleefully and moving his head from side to side as he licked from an ice cream cone. She kept softly patting Ibrahim’s thighs to get him to sit still, but Ibrahim remained oblivious. Several seconds passed before Aliyah registered the question. Larry sat opposite her and was leaning forward on his elbows, a hesitant smile on his face.
“What?” Aliyah couldn’t keep the laughter out of her voice. She glanced self-consciously at her son, hoping he hadn’t heard. He was still swaying his head to the music in his head, his attention on devouring the last bit of vanilla swirled atop the sugar cone.
“I’m serious,” Larry said, embarrassed humor in his voice. “Marry me.”
Aliyah laughed again. “We barely know each other.”
“What more do you want to know?”
“Let’s talk about this later,” she said, voice lowered. She discreetly nodded her head in the direction of Ibrahim.
“Okay,” he said, a smile lingering on his face. “But for me, there’s nothin
g more to talk about. I’ll wait for your answer.”
As Aliyah drove home from the mall, Ibrahim in his “big boy car seat” in the back, her instinct was to call Deanna to see what she thought of Larry’s proposal. But Aliyah stopped herself, remembering Deanna’s passive-aggressive Facebook status a week ago. It’s cute when people with zero counseling credentials and zero success in their relationships try to offer experienced, married folks advice! LOL. Sadness overwhelmed Aliyah until her heart felt heavy.
After Deanna had picked up her sons from Aliyah’s apartment last Sunday afternoon, Aliyah programmed the numbers to Deanna’s home and mobile to go directly to voicemail, and she blocked the texting option for Deanna. It was probably the most cowardly way to deal with what was bothering her, but Aliyah couldn’t bear the thought of hearing Deanna’s voice after reading that status. Of course, Deanna could simply show up at Aliyah’s front door as she always did whenever she felt like it, but Aliyah figured she could pretend not to be home. Or better yet, she could make it a point to actually not be home at the times that Deanna was most likely to stop by. Incidentally, that was why she’d agreed to meet Larry at the mall that afternoon.
For the past two weeks, Larry had been asking if he could go on a “halaal date” with Aliyah. When he’d first used the term in a conversation, she thought he was joking. But when Larry told her he’d already spoken to her uncle Benjamin and got his approval, Aliyah realized that Larry had given this a lot of thought. “Is there even such a thing?” she’d asked humorously. “I looked it up,” Larry had said. “Some scholars say it’s okay as long as we’re not alone or in a secluded place.”
At the time Aliyah wasn’t interested in going on a “halaal date” with Larry, but she found it interesting that any scholar would approve of the arrangement. Most of the fatwas she’d come across on the topic of male-female interaction were impossibly rigid. She was often left wondering what the scholars expected converts to Islam to do since practically everything, from talking on the phone to going on a chaperoned date, was considered haraam.
