His Other Wife

by Umm Zakiyyah

  “You seem happy.”

  “What?” Aliyah said, still grinning as she looked away from Ibrahim and met Salima’s gaze before putting a forkful of waffle in her mouth.

  “You look happy,” Salima said again, a smile creasing the sides of her lips.

  Glancing at her son, Aliyah smiled with her eyes as she chewed her food. “I love it when Ibrahim gets out,” she said after a few seconds.

  “Ibrahim was out with you Friday night,” Salima said, a friendly smirk on her face, “but you didn’t look happy.”

  “Really?” Aliyah’s tone conveyed genuine surprise. “I probably was just tired. I had a long day at work.”

  Salima narrowed her eyes as she ate in silence for some time, her expression playfully accusing.

  “What?” Aliyah said, laughter in her voice as she grew self-conscious under Salima’s gaze.

  “You sounded really upset last night,” Salima said.

  Aliyah creased her forehead in confusion. “I did?”

  “When we talked,” Salima said slowly, as if to jog Aliyah’s memory.

  “Oh yeah,” Aliyah said as if it were a long time ago. She waved her fork dismissively before using it to cut a piece of omelet. “I got up early and made a lot of du’aa, so I feel better, alhamdulillah.” She looked toward the boys and laughed before putting the piece of omelet in her mouth.

  Salima pursed her lips suspiciously after Aliyah met her gaze again. “You called Jacob back, didn’t you?”

  It took a few seconds for Aliyah to register what Salima was talking about. “Jacob?” Aliyah said, eyebrows drawn together after she swallowed her food.

  “Yes, Jacob,” Salima said, widening her eyes playfully, as if to remind Aliyah that he exists. “Jacob Bivens,” she said. “Dr. Jacob Bivens, the math professor you work with.”

  Aliyah averted her gaze. “I decided not to call him back.”

  “Then he called you back,” Salima said matter-of-factly.

  Aliyah lifted a shoulder in a shrug, a hesitant grin on her face. “This morning,” she admitted. “But it wa—”

  “Ha, I knew it!” Salima shook her head. She lifted her glass of apple juice, took a sip, and set it back down, smirking. “I swear, if you didn’t have melanin in your skin, you would be blushing right now.”

  “Blushing?” Aliyah said, humored disbelief in her voice. “Because my department head called me?”

  “No,” Salima said. “Because the man you want to marry called you.”

  The smile fell from Aliyah’s face as she met Salima’s gaze in confusion. “The man I want to marry? He’s my best friend’s husband.”

  “Former husband,” Salima corrected.

  Aliyah frowned thoughtfully. “How did you find out?”

  “Jamil told me.”

  “Jamil?”

  “My brother,” Salima said. “He was with me at the halal store.”

  “Oh yeah,” Aliyah said, remembering just then. “He plays basketball with Larry, right?”

  “Sometimes,” Salima said noncommittally.

  “So Larry told him?” Aliyah said, surprise in her tone.

  “Or Jacob,” Salima suggested.

  Aliyah drew her eyebrows together in confusion. “Jamil knows Jacob?”

  Salima chuckled. “Everybody knows Jacob.”

  Aliyah smiled, nodding in embarrassment. “That makes sense. He’s pretty well known in the community.”

  “Plus, Jamil works at the law firm that’s representing Deanna.”

  A shadow of concern passed over Aliyah’s face. “Everybody knows about the charges now?”

  Salima shook her head. “Not everybody. But Jamil and I do.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  Salima pulled her head back in surprise. “Why does it matter?”

  Oh. Aliyah shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t. I just thought…” Aliyah didn’t know how to finish her sentence.

  “That you were keeping your friend’s secret?” Salima finished, a knowing smile on her face.

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Keep doing that,” Salima said, her tone serious. “We’re praying the media doesn’t get ahold of this.”

  “I am.” Aliyah sighed as she glanced at the boys. “I’d hate to think what would happen if Younus and Thawab found out.”

  Salima raised an eyebrow. “Found out what?”

  “Everything,” Aliyah said, sadness in her tone. “Can you imagine?”

  “They probably know a lot more than we do,” Salima said reflectively. “Children aren’t as naïve as we think. Don’t forget they live with their parents.”

  “But Larry said it happened at Deanna’s parents’ house.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” Salima said. “They might not know all the details. But I’m sure they know something’s wrong.”

  Aliyah drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “May Allah protect them. I don’t want to see them hurt.”

  “Ameen to the du’aa,” Salima said, her tone pensive. “But I think it’s a little too late to hope they won’t get hurt. Let’s just pray their pain doesn’t cause any serious long-term damage.”

  Aliyah ate in silence for some time, her gaze between the boys and her food. “How well do you know their family?” Aliyah said, glancing up at Salima hesitantly.

  “Whose family?”

  “Larry and Jacob’s.”

  Salima averted her gaze and shrugged. “Not more than you, I assume,” she said. “Jamil knows them better than I do.”

  Aliyah nodded thoughtfully. She felt inclined to inquire more, but she wasn’t sure what to ask.

  “Why?” Salima asked curiously.

  “I don’t know,” Aliyah said with a shrug. “It’s just that I—”

  “Salima?”

  At the sound of a strange voice, Aliyah turned and found an attractive young woman standing next to the their table smiling widely at Salima and holding a shopping bag.

  “Yasmeen?” Salima said in pleasant surprise. She stood and drew the woman into an embrace.

  The woman rolled her eyes in embarrassment and waved her hand dismissively. “Why do you keep calling me that?” she said after they released each other.

  “A mother can hope, right?” Salima said teasingly.

  “You’re too young to be my mother,” the young woman said, grinning. “But trust me.” She lowered her voice and narrowed her eyes playfully. “I wouldn’t mind having you instead.”

  Salima and the woman laughed at the private joke, leaving Aliyah feeling awkward.

  “I’m sorry.” Salima gestured a hand toward Aliyah as she sat back down. “Yasmeen, this is Aliyah. Aliyah, this is Yasmeen.”

  The woman rolled her eyes as she leaned forward and shook Aliyah’s hand. “My name is Jasmine,” she said as she side-eyed Salima playfully. “But Salima and my boyfriend think Arabizing my name will convince me to convert.”

  “You’re not Muslim?” Aliyah said, more for friendly conversation than sincere interest.

  “Not yet,” Salima said quickly, answering for Jasmine. “But we’re working on it.”

  Aliyah nodded, a polite smile on her face, but something in the way Salima spoke made Aliyah sense that Salima was rushing the conversation for her benefit.

  “But give me a call sometime, okay?” Salima said, smiling broadly at Jasmine.

  “I will,” Jasmine said apologetically. “It’s just that I’ve been so busy.” She rolled her eyes again. “You know, with Larry and my family and everything that’s going on.”

  Aliyah stiffened, the polite smile remaining frozen on her face. In her peripheral vision, she saw Salima eyeing her in between maintaining eye contact with Jasmine, but Aliyah couldn’t bring herself to look at Salima. Aliyah felt pulsating at her temples as the conversation faded into the background then slowly became audible again.

  “But let me go,” Jasmine said finally. “I just stopped by the mall to pick up a gift for Larry’s mother. I’m supposed to be meeti
ng them for Sunday brunch.”

  “Tell everyone I said hello,” Salima said.

  “I will,” Jasmine said before turning to Aliyah and smiling. “It was nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” Aliyah managed to utter before Jasmine disappeared into the mall corridors.

  Aliyah focused her gaze on her food and ate in silence for some time.

  “I wanted to tell you when we discussed him last night,” Salima said apologetically. “But I figured it didn’t matter since you turned him down. I’m sorry about that.”

  “It’s not your responsibility,” Aliyah said sincerely, surprised that she found her voice. “It’s just shocking, that’s all.”

  “Is it?” Salima said doubtfully. “Larry doesn’t strike me as a one-woman man.”

  Aliyah chuckled as she stabbed mindlessly at the food left on her plate. “I can see that.”

  “But he seems like a nice brother, mashaAllah,” Salima said.

  Aliyah rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Don’t they all?”

  Salima grunted agreement. “My husband used to say, ‘Everybody seems nice, Salima. Come up with a better line.’” She laughed and shook her head as if enjoying a pleasant memory. “I guess I’m just a stickler for seeing the good in people.”

  “MashaAllah,” Aliyah said reflectively. “I’m the same way. But I’m learning that good is complex and layered.”

  “That’s so true,” Salima said, nodding in agreement. “When we see everything as black and white, it causes a lot of problems.”

  “But how do you work through the gray?” Aliyah said thoughtfully, setting down her fork and meeting Salima’s gaze. “When Deanna and I were friends, I ignored all the warning signs, you know? I kept telling myself that she means well or that this is just her personality or she’s just trying to help. Sometimes I don’t know the forest for the trees.”

  “That’s everybody,” Salima said. “The closer a situation is to you, the more difficult it is to see what’s really going on. That’s why we have friends and family to help us figure things out.”

  “Or no one,” Aliyah said in dry humor as she gazed toward the jungle gym for some time.

  “We all have someone,” Salima said, “even if it doesn’t feel like it at times.”

  Aliyah nodded. “That’s true. We always have Allah.”

  “I meant people,” Salima said. “No one can do it alone.”

  “You sound like Reem,” Aliyah said, meeting Salima’s gaze with a hesitant smile. “But everyone doesn’t have family and friends to depend on. Except for my uncle Benjamin, I have Allah and myself. And I’m starting to realize it’s for the better.”

  “You don’t have family?” Salima said, her tone conveying surprise. “I thought you mentioned you wished you could live with your brothers.”

  “Yes,” Aliyah said tentatively. “Emphasis on the word wish. It could never happen. They don’t speak to me anymore.”

  “Why not?” Salima said, shocked disapproval in her tone.

  “I became Muslim.”

  Salima and Aliyah remained silent as they watched the boys climb the jungle gym and hang upside down, their legs locked in place on the bars. Droves of men and women slowly drifted into the mall as the gates of several stores opened, and a few more children joined Ibrahim and Haroon.

  “How long have you been Muslim?” Salima asked.

  “About eighteen years.”

  “And your family is still upset?”

  “To be honest,” Aliyah said, “I don’t know. They never really offered any explanation. Except that I was being selfish and ungrateful after everything they did for me.”

  “Your brothers said that?” Salima asked, surprised.

  “No, my parents,” Aliyah said. “But everyone just went along with it.”

  “Maybe they didn’t have a choice,” Salima offered. “Whenever grown children fall in line with their parents on things like that, it’s usually because the parents made it clear they don’t have a choice.”

  Aliyah nodded thoughtfully. “I can see my parents doing that. They were really good at making us feel bad if we showed even the slightest disapproval of anything they did. When I was younger, I thought we were being raised to be respectful to our elders. Now I know we were just being raised to be compliant with whatever they wanted.”

  “Or both,” Salima said.

  “Or both,” Aliyah agreed, nodding. “I just don’t think my parents know the difference.”

  “Most parents don’t,” Salima said. “Parents learn parenting at about the same pace that children learn life. We’re all going at this alone.”

  “You really think so?” Aliyah said doubtfully. “I think we know a lot more than we admit. It’s not that difficult to just take a moment and listen to someone, you know what I mean?”

  “I agree,” Salima said. “I’m just saying it’s not easy if you don’t have the right guidance. Don’t forget that a lot of what you know is because of the natural clarity that faith gives you. Without Islam, people are lost.”

  Aliyah huffed humorously. “Many Muslims are lost, too.”

  “Like I said,” Salima replied, “without Islam, people are lost.”

  Aliyah nodded, understanding. “And Islam is sincere belief and humble submission.”

  “Exactly,” Salima said. “Allah makes it very simple to be Muslim and go to Paradise. But that doesn’t mean every Muslim understands and embraces what Islam really means.”

  “That’s a lifetime effort,” Aliyah said. “I’m still trying to figure it out myself.”

  “Good,” Salima said. “It’s when you’re confident that you understand Islam fully that you need to worry.”

  There was a brief pause as Salima lifted her glass of juice. “So what’s going on with you and Jacob?” she said before sipping from the glass, her gaze on Aliyah.

  Aliyah shrugged. “Nothing,” she said. “He was calling about work.”

  “Work?” Salima raised her eyebrows doubtfully then set her glass down. “Are you sure?”

  Aliyah smirked and shook her head. “What is up with everyone? Do I have a sign on my head that says, ‘Ask me about Jacob’?”

  “No,” Salima said. “But Jacob has a sign on his head that says, ‘I want to marry Aliyah.’”

  “I don’t think so,” Aliyah said, shaking her head and grinning self-consciously. She lifted her glass of orange juice and peered inside thoughtfully before setting it back down. “Maybe about thirteen years ago, but everything’s different now.”

  There was an extended silence. “Not everything,” Salima said reflectively. “Hearts don’t change so easily.”

  Aliyah’s gaze became distant momentarily. “But circumstances do,” she said.

  A loud humming noise came from the play area, and Aliyah turned and found a man preparing the bumper car station. Suddenly, there was a lot of commotion as the children left the jungle gym and rushed to line up, Ibrahim and Haroon among them.

  “When Jamil was struggling in his marriage,” Salima said, her eyes on the children pushing and shoving to get to the bumper cars, “he said Jacob gave him a lot of good advice.”

  “MashaAllah,” Aliyah remarked, lifting her glass of orange juice and peering inside again before setting it back down, her thoughts distant.

  “And he said Jacob was always talking about the lesson he learned after he let a good sister get away.” Salima met Aliyah’s gaze with a reflective expression on her face. “I remember listening to Jamil and thinking, I wonder who that sister was.” Salima shook her head and smiled at Aliyah. “Now I understand what all the fuss was about, mashaAllah.”

  Aliyah averted her gaze, uncomfortable with the attention.

  “Trust me,” Salima said, “I don’t think time or circumstance could make that man forget about you.”

  “Well,” Aliyah said with a sigh, “for now, I’m focusing on myself and my son. I’ll leave the rest to Allah.”

  “That’s always a good plan,
” Salima said tentatively. “But there are some things Allah leaves to us.”

  “How did everything work out for Jamil and his wife?” Aliyah said, intentionally changing the subject. She didn’t want to talk about Jacob right then.

  Salima smiled as if enjoying a private joke. “Well, it turned out he didn’t have to worry about solving any of his marriage problems after all. His wife’s sheikh did it on his behalf.”

  Aliyah creased her forehead in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “The sheikh told his wife that she couldn’t be married to him anymore.”

  “What?” Aliyah felt herself getting upset. “Why would he say something like that?”

  Salima shook her head, a reflective frown on her face. “I have no idea.” She shrugged. “But apparently, Jamil wasn’t committed enough.”

  Aliyah contorted her face in disapproval. “How would the sheikh know how committed Jamil was to his marriage?”

  “Not to the marriage,” Salima said, a sad smile creasing the sides of her lips. “To the sheikh.”

  Aliyah’s heart fell in sadness, recalling how betrayed she’d felt after she trusted the imam’s perspective on Matt more than she did her intuition. “Why do they do that?” she said, shaking her head, upset. “What happened to focusing on Allah?”

  “Ukhti,” Salima said, melancholy in her tone, “for some people, focusing on Allah and focusing on their sheikh are one and the same.”

  Aliyah shook her head, still upset. “I don’t understand that thinking though. Isn’t a sheikh supposed to teach people about Allah and Istikhaarah and du’aa? Certainly, the sheikh didn’t believe it was obligatory for Jamil to follow him.”

  “I don’t understand it either,” Salima said. “But it’s rare to find someone who admits they don’t have all the answers. Everyone wants to think their group, madhhab, or sheikh has the answer to everything.”

  “Even who you should be married to,” Aliyah muttered, disappointment in her tone.

  “Even who you should be married to.” Salima nodded, pursing her lips. “But the good news is, it was for the best. Jamil is doing much better now, alhamdulillah. And if I’m completely honest, I was happy to see her go. She was pulling Jamil away from Allah, and it was hard to watch.”