His Other Wife

by Umm Zakiyyah

  As Reem exited the interstate toward home, she was filled with dread as her thoughts shifted to the dinner party that her family was hosting that night. Her father’s eldest son was visiting from Saudi Arabia with his wife and children, and they would be staying for three weeks. Reem loathed the idea of seeing Fahad sitting in her mother’s living room relaxing and eating as if his presence were the most natural thing in the world.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Sayed had told her early that morning. “I’ll make sure Hana and Muhammad aren’t around him too much.”

  Her husband’s words had eased some of her anxiety, but not all. What if Fahad’s teenage sons had turned out like their father had been at their age?

  ***

  “Exactly!” Aliyah said, laughing in agreement as she and Larry sat across from each other at a table in the mall. Their bodies were turned toward the play area where Ibrahim, Younus, and Thawab were maneuvering bumper cars and ramming into each other at every opportunity. They had finished eating their ice cream thirty minutes before. “If there’s not even a chance of our children marrying each other,” Aliyah said, “then that’s not a real friendship.”

  She had shared with Larry the conversation she’d had with Reem, but she didn’t tell him that it was Reem who’d made the comments. To avoid backbiting, Aliyah had said that she had run into an old Arab friend from the masjid.

  “They certainly keep us at a distance,” Larry said, a smirk on his face as he shook his head.

  “I really like the sister,” Aliyah said reflectively. “But her comments about intercultural marriage really annoyed me. I don’t see how they don’t see that at divisive to say their children can only marry someone from their country.”

  “Because they’re racist,” Larry said. “And you’re supposed to feel grateful if they even spend time with you. The minute you see yourself as more than a charity case, they feel insulted.”

  Aliyah was silent, uncomfortable with the offensive terminology in connection to her Qur’an teacher. “I don’t think I’d call them racist,” she said. “Because they do have a point.”

  Larry looked at Aliyah, eyebrows raised. “You’re serious?”

  “I don’t agree with it,” Aliyah clarified. “But you can’t deny that there is some value to having your children only marry into families you already know.”

  “And your Arab friend doesn’t already know you and Ibrahim?” Larry said skeptically.

  “That’s a good point,” Aliyah said, chuckling self-consciously. “I guess I don’t think of myself as being someone she really knows, if you know what I mean.”

  Larry narrowed his eyes in curiosity. “So you think you have to be from the same culture to really know someone?”

  “No,” Aliyah said tentatively. “But if someone thinks that no one should be in their family except people from their culture, then that thinking prevents them from ever really getting to know me. Because there’s always this barrier and air of superiority that clouds everything.”

  “You think your friend feels superior to you?”

  “Yes,” Aliyah said honestly, frowning briefly. “But it’s not intentional, so I don’t blame her for it. It just makes conversations hard because she’s always trying to teach me something instead of just taking a moment to actually listen to what I’m saying. It’s like she feels obligated to make me see the world differently, but she almost never considers that she can benefit from seeing the world differently too.”

  “Did something happen to make her treat you like that, or is she like that in general?”

  Aliyah furrowed her brows as she considered the question. “I don’t know. But we did become close around the time I was getting divorced, so maybe she felt sorry for me and wanted to help.”

  “That happens a lot to introspective people,” Larry said. “Especially if you tend to keep to yourself. Other people hide their pain through being talkative, sociable, and outgoing. They’re so good at masking pain that they even hide it from themselves. But it’s hard for people like you to wear a mask when you’re hurting. So people feel sorry for you and think they need to save you.”

  Aliyah wrinkled her nose. “Maybe that’s what Deanna thought she was doing.”

  Larry nodded thoughtfully. “I think the jury is still out on Deanna. But my hunch is that she was jealous of you and resented you for it.”

  Aliyah coughed laughter. “Deanna was always saying I was jealous of her.”

  “She was just projecting,” Larry said. “Narcissistic people have a hard time processing negative feelings unless they’re about other people. So anytime they feel something negative in connection to another person, they think it’s because of that other person instead of themselves.”

  Aliyah creased her forehead. “You think Deanna is narcissistic?”

  A disbelieving grin formed on Larry’s face. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? That woman has some serious issues.” He huffed. “I count it as a blessing that my brother will probably be finally free of her.”

  Aliyah contorted her face. “Don’t say that.”

  “Why not?” Larry said. “It’s the truth.”

  “There’s nothing good about Deanna spending the rest of her life in prison,” Aliyah said, frowning in disapproval. “What if her mother dies, Larry? Would you count that as a blessing too?”

  “Of course not,” Larry said. “It’s terrible what happened to Mrs. Michaels, and I really pray she pulls through. I’m just saying there’s a silver lining here, and that’s my brother finally being able to move on with his life.”

  Aliyah gritted her teeth in annoyance, her gaze on the boys bumping their cars into each other.

  “I swear,” Larry said, “when I picked up my nephews this morning, Jacob looked like he was finally starting to have some peace of mind.”

  “Did he say that?” Aliyah asked challengingly. “Because I have a hard time thinking he’s at peace with his wife in jail and his mother-in-law on her deathbed.”

  “Of course not,” Larry said. “I’m talking about how he looked, not what he said.”

  “Maybe you were doing a bit of projecting yourself,” Aliyah said flippantly.

  Larry laughed and nodded. “Maybe I was.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “But I’m not going to apologize for being happy for my brother. Before he married Deanna, Jacob was vibrant, charismatic, and inspirational. I used to look up to him. But after he married Deanna, it was like a part of him died and I’d only get glimpses of who he used to be. And this morning I saw a glimpse of the brother I remember.” A reflective grin lingered on Larry’s face. “Call me insensitive or cruel or whatever, but I’m happy there’s a chance I’ll have my brother back.”

  Chapter 16

  Crash Course

  Aliyah stood in front of Dr. Warren’s desk, glancing uncertainly at the stack of files her supervisor had just handed her. “Did he say when he’ll be returning?”

  Dr. Warren raised an eyebrow. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

  Aliyah creased her forehead, caught off guard by her supervisor’s accusatory tone. “Excuse me?”

  “Professor Thomas,” Dr. Warren said, a knowing smirk on her face as she met Aliyah’s gaze, “it is obvious that you and Dr. Bivens have strong feelings for each other and that you know each other outside of work. But I commend you both for your professionalism. So I’m asking this because I value Dr. Bivens as a colleague and an old friend.” She narrowed her eyes in an effort to appear concerned. “Will he be returning to us any time soon?”

  Aliyah’s face grew hot in offense. “Dr. Warren,” Aliyah said, struggling to keep her voice cordial, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Outside of work, I know Dr. Bivens only through my friendship with his wife. And due to the unfortunate events over the past few months, I haven’t seen her in quite some time.”

  “But you’ve seen Dr. Bivens, I assume?”

  “Yes,” Aliyah said, “at work.”

  “So you’re telling me you
have absolutely no contact with Dr. Bivens outside the office,” Dr. Warren said with skeptical sarcasm.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Aliyah said, unsure where all of this was coming from. “The last time I saw him was a week ago. At work,” she added for emphasis.

  Dr. Warren leaned back in her chair, the shadow of a smirk on her face. “That’s interesting,” she said. “Because from what I understand, you attend the same mosque.”

  “We do,” Aliyah said cautiously, her gaze meeting Dr. Warren’s unblinking. “But I’ve never spoken to him at the mosque. Like most Muslims, I go there only for prayer and religious study.”

  Dr. Warren huffed. “Well, on the off chance that you do see him,” she said, “please find out how long he plans to stay away.”

  “On the off chance that I see him,” Aliyah said, struggling to keep the sarcasm out of her tone, “I’ll ask him to give you a call.” Aliyah forced a tightlipped smile. “How does that sound?”

  Dr. Warren’s lips twitched in discomfort, and Aliyah sensed that this wasn’t quite how her supervisor had envisioned the conversation. Aliyah had no idea what Dr. Warren was getting at or why, but Aliyah wasn’t about to play the role of the ditsy new employee trying to impress her superiors. Perhaps Aliyah’s willingness to help other professors run errands and make copies during her lunch break had been construed as evidence of her gullibility.

  Yes, this job mattered to Aliyah—a lot. But not more than her integrity. She would rather go homeless or live with her uncle than reduce herself to pandering for approval. She would continue to go over and beyond what was required of her in work-related activities, but she was unwilling to open up her private life to scrutiny.

  “Then I think we’ll need to give you a little help with overseeing One Plus One,” Dr. Warren said, as if in rebuke.

  “Thank you,” Aliyah said sincerely, conscious that Dr. Warren had imagined that Aliyah would want to run the internship alone. “I appreciate any help I can get.”

  “I think it’s best if you were the one helping someone else,” Dr. Warren said, her tone still in rebuke.

  Aliyah nodded. “I agree,” she said. “I’m still new here, so if a more experienced professor is able to run the program in Dr. Bivens’s absence, I’m more than willing to assist wherever I can.”

  Dr. Warren’s face was pinched in distaste as she leaned forward and opened up a file folder on her desk before removing a pen from a ceramic cup. “Then I think Dr. Stanley should replace you in running the internship.”

  It was obvious that Dr. Warren was trying to make Aliyah regretful for being uncooperative, but Aliyah was unable to feel anything but indignant.

  What on earth is going on here? Aliyah thought to herself. One second Aliyah was a favored professor, and the next Dr. Warren was acting like she saw Aliyah as some sort of threat. The supervisor couldn’t possibly think that Aliyah could vie for anyone’s position after working at the college for less than a year. That was not even enough time to hope for tenure. And Aliyah didn’t even have a doctorate yet.

  ***

  “It could be several things,” Larry said later that afternoon as Aliyah gripped the steering wheel with one hand and reached under her hijab with the other to push her earpiece in more securely. “But whatever’s going on, it’s not good.”

  “Well, I figured that much,” she said, rolling her eyes in agreement as she slowed to a stop in preparation to exit the faculty and staff parking lot. “I’m just really not in the mood for fitnah at work. So if there’s something going on, I wish someone would just come out and say it. I hate all this passive-aggressive stuff. I don’t even want to run Jacob’s internship program. I already have enough on my plate.”

  “But they don’t know that,” Larry’s voice said through the earpiece. “As far as they’re concerned, you all want the same things. So it’s probably never crossed their minds that this job doesn’t mean that much to you. For them, it’s probably the sum total of their existence.”

  “If you ever work for anyone other than yourself,” Aliyah recited aloud, “put your heart into the job. But don’t put the job in your heart.”

  “Nice,” Larry said. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “My mom,” Aliyah said reflectively as she eased her car onto the main road. “She didn’t believe in professional slavery.”

  Larry chuckled in agreement. “Sounds like we grew up in the same house.”

  “I think today was the first time I really understood her advice though,” Aliyah said honestly. “I want to keep my job, but not that much.”

  “It was a trap,” Larry said, returning to the topic of Aliyah’s predicament. “Jacob is obviously already in communication with his supervisor about his leave of absence, so it was completely unnecessary for her to ask you about it.”

  “I know…” Aliyah thoughtfully. “I just wish I knew what was going on. It almost sounded like she was trying to pin something on me. I just don’t know what.”

  “She’s probably just annoyed that Jacob suggested that you head the internship in his absence.”

  “But what difference does it make? The internship will be over next month.”

  “That’s why I don’t do nine-to-fives,” Larry said. “This stuff never makes sense. There’s always some insecure person on a power trip.”

  Aliyah rolled her eyes as she veered onto the ramp leading to the interstate. “Most people work a nine-to-five because they have to, Larry. We don’t consider it a personal preference to work under people with superiority complexes.”

  “Didn’t you say you wanted to start your own business?” Larry asked. “Maybe this is your chance.”

  “My chance?” Aliyah said, coughing laughter. “I still have to pay my bills.”

  “Not if you marry me,” Larry said teasingly.

  Aliyah felt dread in the pit of her stomach. As much as she enjoyed talking to Larry, the idea of being his wife, she just couldn’t wrap her mind around. She was still in the dark as to why he had been suddenly MIA during the time the rumors were being spread about her, and thus far, all of his responses to her inquiries had been evasive.

  “Larry, please,” Aliyah said, exhaustion in her tone, “let’s not go there.”

  “Why not?” Larry said lightheartedly. “I’m good enough to call for advice but not good enough to marry?”

  Aliyah contorted her face. “What does getting advice have to do with marriage? I used to ask the imam for advice all the time, but I’d never marry him.”

  “Maybe that’s why you’re still single,” Larry said, sarcastic humor in his tone. “You think everyone is beneath you.”

  Aliyah’s face was aflame in offense. “What?”

  “It’s true,” Larry said, laughter in his voice. “You can’t deny that you could benefit from seeing other people as equal to you instead of beneath you.” He added, “The imam’s a good brother, so why isn’t he good enough for you?”

  “I didn’t say he’s not good enough for me,” Aliyah said. “I said I would never marry him.”

  “But why not?” Larry said. “He’s obviously a person of good character and has knowledge of the deen.”

  “Because we have nothing in common,” Aliyah said, her eyes narrowed on the stretch of interstate in front of her. “He’s like sixty years old. And married,” she added.

  “That didn’t stop you from considering Jacob,” Larry said, chuckling. “Except for their age difference, Jacob and the imam are very similar.”

  “Jacob?”

  “Don’t act like it’s never crossed your mind. It’s obvious how you feel about him.”

  “Why does everybody keep saying that?” Aliyah said, face contorted in offense. “He asked about me.”

  “That doesn’t mean you’re not interested.”

  “Larry, please.” Aliyah rolled her eyes.

  “Are you begging me to marry you?” Larry joked.

  “No I’m not,” Aliyah said, annoyed. “I’m begging
you to leave the topic alone.”

  “Should I leave you alone too?”

  “Yes, I think you should,” she said.

  “Then why did you call me?”

  “I called for advice, Larry. That’s hardly an invitation for marriage.”

  “Just so you know,” Larry said, “men don’t like teases. So if you’re not interested in marrying a brother, don’t call him for advice. If you can’t help him with what he needs, don’t expect him to help you with what you need.”

  Aliyah was still fuming when she pulled into a space in the parking strip in front of the halal market. She had ended the call minutes before and was saying the isti’aadhah to calm herself. “A’oodhu billaahi minashShaytaanirrajeem,” she uttered as she turned off the car. I seek refuge in Allah from Satan the rejected enemy. “A’oodhu billaahi minash-Shaytaanirrajeem.”

  Aliyah removed the key from the ignition then pushed the driver side door open as she was reminded suddenly of something Nikki had said.

  Women hate women they can’t find anything wrong with, and men resent women they can’t have for themselves.

  “Why is Islamic obligation only important after a man decides who he wants to marry?” Aliyah had vented to Reem weeks ago. “I’ve never heard an imam tell a brother, ‘Fear Allah. The sister wants to marry you, so stop following your nafs and marry the sister.’ But we’re told things like that all the time.”

  After locking her car, Aliyah walked to the glass door with a large We’re Open sign in red letters. A bell jingled above her head as she pulled the handle and stepped inside. Instantly, the smell of poultry and packaged food tickled her nostrils, and she momentarily shifted her thoughts from Larry as she made a mental note of what she needed to buy. As she made her way to the meat counter, rows of sugary treats in shimmery cellophane wrapping caught her eye. For a fleeting moment, her healthy resolve was weakened as she contemplated buying a sweet snack.