His Other Wife

by Umm Zakiyyah

  “That’s possible,” Jacob said reflectively.

  Aliyah shook her head. “But it was deeper than that,” she said. “About a week ago, I read through my Facebook page for the first time since everything happened, and the majority of the tags and discussions by Muslims weren’t about whether or not I was guilty of sleeping with a married man. That was discussed, of course, but it wasn’t the focus. The focus was whether or not I was trying to steal my best friend’s husband.”

  Jacob drew his eyebrows together. “I thought they discussed that because they assumed the mistress story was true.”

  Aliyah shook her head. “I thought so too,” she said. “Until I actually read the threads.”

  “What were they saying?”

  “That I was trying to get you to marry me as a second wife.” Aliyah coughed laughter. “Some of them even mentioned how I apparently forced polygamy down my first husband’s throat until he divorced me.”

  “What?” Jacob felt himself getting upset. “What is wrong with us?”

  “But that’s not all,” Aliyah said. “When they discussed the possibility of me committing adultery, the sentiment was, ‘Unfortunately, that’s what happens when we work in mixed environments. May Allah forgive us.’ But when they discussed the possibility of me trying to be a second wife, the sentiment was, ‘Unfortunately, many women are backstabbers. Keep them out of your life.’”

  Jacob was overcome with frustration. “That’s terrible.”

  “Isn’t it?” Aliyah shook her head. “It’s like, it’s acceptable if you anger Allah. But it’s unacceptable if you anger me.”

  Jacob didn’t know what to say.

  “So for the Muslims, it was never really about my guilt or innocence in committing a major sin,” Aliyah said. “It was about whether or not I wanted to marry a married man. And to many of them, polygamy was more unforgivable.”

  Jacob sighed. “It’s really sad that we’ve come to this.”

  Aliyah shook her head in agreement. “It was amazing to see how adamant they were about making me out to be this vindictive woman. And not because they thought I was trying to do something wrong. But because they knew I wasn’t.”

  A half hour later, Jacob had a heavy heart as he pulled in front of the school campus where his sons were enrolled in an all-day educational summer camp. After speaking to Aliyah, he was no longer convinced that the television interview was a good idea.

  What’s the point? That had been Aliyah’s question, and now it was his own. If the people who mattered most to them viewed plural marriage as more blameworthy than major sin, then what exactly would he gain by clarifying the truth? And what crime would he be exonerating himself from?

  It was never really about my guilt or innocence in committing a major sin. It was about whether or not I wanted to marry a married man.

  SubhaanAllah, Jacob thought. What was he supposed to do with that?

  ***

  As her mobile rang and vibrated in her purse, Aliyah quickly pushed open the door to her apartment. She set down the bulging manila folder then fished for her phone. After withdrawing her cell, she held the phone in front of her and hesitated when she saw the name on the display. Larry Bivens.

  A flood of emotions came over her in the five seconds that it took for the name to disappear and the missed call symbol to appear. She was indignant and angry, yet sad and hopeful. But by the time the phone chimed and the voicemail symbol appeared, she was only annoyed.

  Try empathy.

  Last week Aliyah had typed the words in fancy font and framed the printout before hanging it on the wall in her living room near the front door. It was one of many printouts she’d hung on the walls of her home in an effort to think more positively and focus on herself. This one had been inspired by her mother’s oft-repeated advice to Aliyah and her siblings whenever they were upset.

  Aliyah drew in a deep breath as she dialed the voicemail then put the phone to her ear to listen to Larry’s message. Try empathy, she said to herself in an effort to calm her annoyance.

  “As-salaamu’alaikum, Aliyah,” Larry’s voice said, apology in his tone. “I know it’s been a while. But we need to talk. Give me a call when you can.”

  Aliyah disconnected the call. Nikki would be dropping off Ibrahim soon, so Aliyah needed to start preparing dinner. She wondered if she should call Larry back now or later. Or at all.

  She glanced at the clock. It was time to pray. She would have to worry about Larry later.

  After Asr, Aliyah sat on the carpet of the living room and recited Ayat al-Kursy, as was the prophetic custom after obligatory prayer.

  Her heart felt heavy as she realized what had gone wrong in her marriage to Matthew. Both she and Matt had been trying too hard to do “the right thing.” Matt had been Muslim only a year when they’d met, and Aliyah had been Muslim for eight, but their understanding of marriage was strikingly similar despite the seven years between their Islamic experiences. Both had believed that “marrying for the sake of Allah” was somehow mutually exclusive to marrying based on one’s needs and desires. Matt had not sought Aliyah in marriage, and Aliyah had not sought Matt. They had been encouraged to become a couple simply because they were “two good Muslims.” But in the process, they became victims of a mentality that stripped from converts to Islam the right to their own hearts and souls, and the right to their own opinions and choices. Neither Aliyah nor Matt had been in any hurry to get married (to anyone, let alone each other), but friends and community leaders convinced them that they “needed” to get married.

  Matt had been told that he needed to get married to protect himself from falling into zina, and Aliyah had been told that she needed to get married because a “good brother” was willing to marry her. It wasn’t until years after they were married that Aliyah learned that Matt’s incentive in getting married went far beyond a desire to avoid falling into fornication. Marrying a “good sister” was also his way of detaching his heart from his ex-girlfriend. His Muslim friends, as well as the local imam, had convinced him that if he had a righteous wife by his side, all his pain and worries would disappear. And Aliyah’s Muslim friends (particularly Deanna), as well as the local imam, had convinced her that it was her Islamic duty to accept the proposal of a Muslim man whose character and religious practice pleased her. Though Aliyah hadn’t known Matt well enough to assess either, she allowed herself to be persuaded that marrying Matt was the right thing to do.

  “You don’t have to marry him, you know,” Benjamin had said after Aliyah eagerly introduced him to Matt for the first time. But by then, Aliyah was so enamored with the idea of having someone to love and care for her that she’d imagined that marrying Matt was what she wanted for herself.

  It wasn’t until this very moment, as she sat on the floor of her living room after Asr, that she realized that, at the time, she had been merely longing for a replacement family. Growing up as the daughter of Alfred and Naomi Thomas, Aliyah had felt part of something phenomenal. Everywhere she went, she met people who admired her parents’ work. Alfred and Naomi were known in their church and their local community for their non-profit programs and the scholarships and internships they’d founded to benefit minority youth.

  “You guys are so lucky,” people would say to Aliyah and her siblings. And Aliyah felt lucky. She’d smile in pride whenever her mother and father were featured in the local news or received yet another reward for their volunteerism or non-profit work. Alfred and Naomi were best known for the love and care they showed to underprivileged youth. They went as far as to spend one-on-one time with youth to assist them in self-sufficiency and academic achievement.

  And Aliyah had naively assumed that this unconditional love, care, and concern had extended to her, too.

  “But she was the love of my life,” Matt had told Aliyah when she told him she didn’t feel comfortable having Nikki around anymore, even if it was only to teach her about Islam. Aliyah was particularly upset that she had to learn from Nikki t
hat Nikki was Matt’s ex-girlfriend. “Am I supposed to just abandon her now that I’m Muslim? She has the right to learn about Islam, and isn’t it better if you teach her instead of me?”

  Though Aliyah was deeply offended by Matt’s tactics, she was genuinely moved by his honesty. She could almost feel his hurt at losing the woman he loved after he accepted Islam. As he spoke, Aliyah had sensed that Matt was hoping that Nikki would become Muslim so they could be together again, and that was when Aliyah realized what she had been to Matt from the beginning. She was merely a beautiful stranger tasked with making him forget the one who’d had his heart all along.

  At the sound of a knock at the door, Aliyah sighed and stood, mentally preparing herself to greet Nikki as she dropped off Ibrahim.

  ***

  “Because it’s stupid. That’s why.” Arms folded across her chest, Deanna stood on the balcony that overlooked her parents’ backyard Friday evening. The balcony’s dark wood stairs spiraled down to the grassy area enclosed by the fence that divided her parents’ property from the neighbors. Deanna knew she was pushing her luck by speaking to her mother like that, especially about something close to her mother’s heart, but she was growing tired of her parents’ browbeating. Why did they keep saying she had to go to church? She had been staying with them for a few months, and she had avoided church by running last minute errands or going to sudden appointments. But she was a grown woman. She shouldn’t have to make up flimsy excuses to avoid something she shouldn’t have to do in the first place.

  “Jesus is our Lord, so you need to—”

  “Jesus is a prophet of our Lord,” Deanna interjected indignantly, “and the only thing I need to do is worship the same God he worshipped. Like you should if you really believe in him like you claim.”

  “You need to watch your mouth,” her mother warned.

  “And you need to watch yours.” There was a part of Deanna that knew she was crossing every Godly and moral boundary by speaking to her mother like this, but the fury inside her had built up so much that she felt as if she were going to explode. She simply could no longer keep her mouth shut and play the role of obedient, submissive child while her parents tried to control even her thoughts and beliefs.

  Deanna had come to stay with her parents because she needed their support and help in getting Jacob to realize his mistake in wanting a divorce. But instead of offering support, or even compassion or concern, everything was about proving that their religious beliefs were superior. It seemed that nothing mattered to them except their ability to look down on everyone who saw the world differently from them.

  Though her mother had occasionally shown some compassion and concern, it quickly disappeared whenever the topic of religion came up. And those conversations never ended well. Like her father, Deanna’s mother would usually resort to hitting and slapping if she couldn’t get Deanna to renounce her Muslim beliefs or go to church with them.

  “You’re the one uttering blasphemy,” Deanna said.

  Internally, she dared her mother to lay a hand on her. Though Deanna imagined it would probably earn her an abode in Hellfire, she was no longer going to let her mother hit her without hitting back. She was tired of being her parents’ punching bag whenever things didn’t go their way. Their physical attacks would be understandable if Deanna was doing something openly disrespectful or harmful to them, but her parents would instigate arguments about religion then start hitting and slapping Deanna if she didn’t agree with them.

  “I am your mother. You have no right to speak to me like that.”

  “And you have no right to speak about God like that,” Deanna retorted.

  “Our Lord died for us and gave his blood,” her mother said, voice rising authoritatively. “And if you want to go to Heaven, you need to accept his sacrifice.”

  “If our Lord died,” Deanna said with a sneer, “I don’t see how anyone is going to Heaven.”

  Deanna braced herself for her mother’s attack. She could feel her mother’s rage building as she glared at Deanna, her eyes thin slits of anger. “Your problem is you have no faith. You want everything to make sense.”

  “I don’t need everything to make sense,” Deanna said. “But I at least need God to make sense, and it makes no sense to believe somebody murdered Him. And you’re telling me that God accepting His own murder is His greatest act of love toward humanity? You’ve got to be kidding me. Do you actually believe that nonsense?”

  “And you think following a religion of terrorists and women haters is any better?”

  Deanna contorted her face. “Terrorists and women haters?”

  “That’s what your religion teaches,” her mother said, disgust in her voice. “Look at what your people do in the name of religion.”

  “And look at what your people do in the name of religion.”

  “My people are upstanding, God-fearing Christians who walk with the Lord.”

  Deanna snorted. “And what does that mean exactly?”

  “If you went to church, you would know what it means.”

  Deanna gritted her teeth as the image of Bailey sneering at her in the church basement flashed in her mind.

  “This is why your life is so messed up,” her mother said. “You’re selfish and immature. You have no regard for anyone but yourself. Even God means nothing to you.”

  Livid, Deanna wrinkled her nose at her mother. Her heart raced at the audacity of that statement. How dare her mother, of all people, say that to her. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Deanna said flippantly.

  “How dare you.” Her mother stepped toward her, a finger hovering so close to Deanna’s forehead that she could feel the heat of her mother’s hand.

  “Will you hit me?” Deanna held her mother’s gaze challengingly. “Because it seems like the only thing I can depend on in this family. I came here because I thought you and Dad would help me save my marriage. I was stupid enough to think you cared about me. I was stupid enough to think you ever cared about me.”

  A shadow of indignant horror passed over her mother’s face as she dropped her hand, her fingers curling and tightening into a fist as if preparing to strike Deanna.

  “If I’m selfish and immature,” Deanna said as her voice trembled, “it’s because I have selfish and immature parents. How dare you say I’m a bad Christian. You’re the bad Christian. I don’t have to love people who hurt me. That’s why I don’t love you.” Vision blurring in anger, Deanna stabbed her finger in the air toward her mother. “I hate you, and I hate Dad. And I hate Bailey too. You’re all sinful and wicked,” Deanna shouted until her throat hurt, “and I’m better than all of you!”

  ***

  Aliyah forced a smile as Nikki stepped into the foyer holding Ibrahim’s hand. A wide grin spread on Ibrahim’s face when he saw his mother. After closing the door, Aliyah kneeled down and held her son in a tight embrace.

  “As-salaamu’alaikum, Mommy,” he said, his voice muffled against her neck. “I missed you.”

  “Wa’alaiku-mus-salaam, cookie monster,” she said. “I missed you too.”

  “Is it okay if I use your bathroom?” Nikki said.

  Aliyah looked up and nodded as she released Ibrahim then stood. “Yes, it’s around the corner on your left.”

  Ibrahim removed his shoes and bounded toward the kitchen. “Are you hungry?” Aliyah asked as she followed him.

  “I want a popsicle.”

  “You can have one after dinner.”

  “Can I have one now?”

  “Himy,” Aliyah said, her voice soft, “you can have a popsicle after you eat.”

  “I can eat another one after dinner,” Ibrahim said, his tone suggesting that he had come up with the perfect solution.

  Aliyah chuckled and shook her head. “I don’t think so. But let’s fix some—”

  A roaring sounding interrupted Aliyah midsentence, and she immediately hurried toward the sound. “Is everything okay?” she called out as she approached the bathroom doo
r where Nikki was still inside. There was another roar-like sound followed by gagging. Concerned, Aliyah knocked on the door with the back of her knuckles. “Nikki?”

  Aliyah heard the toilet flush, and seconds later the bathroom door opened. Nikki stood looking pale, eyes bleary. “I’m not feeling well,” Nikki muttered, a hand on her abdominal area.

  “Is it the pregnancy?” Aliyah said.

  Nikki nodded, distracted. “I just need to sit down for a bit. I feel dizzy.”

  “You can sit on the couch until you’re ready to drive home.”

  Nikki dragged her feet as she walked toward the living room, and Aliyah followed cautiously behind her. “Do you need anything to drink or eat?” Aliyah asked.

  Nikki collapsed into the couch. “Do you have white bread or potato chips?” she said, her voice weak.

  “I think so,” Aliyah said as she started toward the kitchen.

  “Are you okay, Ummi?” Ibrahim asked in a small voice, his expression concerned as he looked at his stepmother.

  “Yes, I’m just tired,” Nikki said as she stared at the ceiling, her head lying on the back of the couch.

  Aliyah returned with a half-full bag of chips closed with a clip and a loaf of white bread still in its store packaging. “Do you need anything with it?” Aliyah said as she set them on the floor table in front of the couch, her eyes following Ibrahim as he retreated to his room.

  Nikki sat up slowly and shook her head as she reached for the bread and opened the package. “No, I’m fine.”

  A concerned expression on her face, Aliyah sat next to Nikki and watched in silence as Nikki nibbled on a piece of bread. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay driving back home? You look like you’re barely holding it together.”

  Cheeks bulging slightly as she chewed, Nikki grinned humorously at Aliyah. “Don’t worry about me,” she said, her voice slightly muffled by the food. “I can’t be broken.”