His Other Wife

by Umm Zakiyyah

  “SubhaanAllah. I can’t imagine,” Aliyah said, sighing. “I really miss my classes, but I’m not willing to go back to being taught that critical thinking and religiousness are mutually exclusive. When I became Muslim, I decided to submit to Allah, not to human beings.”

  “The problem is,” Salima said reflectively, “we learn about Allah from human beings. So it’s not as simple as people versus Allah.”

  Aliyah nodded. “That’s true.”

  “But Jamil and I have been blessed to find some pretty good teachers in the last couple of years, mashaAllah,” Salima said.

  “You mean Reem’s tafseer classes?”

  Salima creased her forehead then shook her head. “I only review my hifdh with Sister Reem.”

  An expectant grin spread on Aliyah’s face. “You memorized the whole Qur’an?”

  A smile creased one corner of Salima’s mouth as she nodded. “Yes, mashaAllah.”

  “Are you serious?” Excited laughter was in Aliyah’s tone.

  Salima chuckled. “Yes, mashaAllah, but I don’t like to broadcast it.”

  “Why not?” Aliyah said, eyes still wide in pleasant surprise. “MashaAllah, barakAllahufeek. That’s one piece of news that deserves to be broadcasted everywhere.”

  “It’s a heavy responsibility though,” Salima said, a hesitant smile lingering. “I got my ijaazah about ten years ago, so I want to—”

  “You have your ijaazah too?” Aliyah said, unable to contain her excitement.

  Salima chuckled. “So I want to find a teacher to recite to before I start teaching again myself.”

  “I thought you recited with Reem,” Aliyah said.

  “That’s for my hifdh,” Salima clarified. “Reem doesn’t have her ijaazah yet, so we just focus on my memorization. But I’m still trying to find someone with a formal certification in reciting and teaching Hafs.”

  “Can you help me? I mean, if that’s okay,” Aliyah added quickly. “I’ve been studying Hafs for a while, but I need a new teacher.”

  Salima creased her forehead in confusion. “A new teacher?”

  Aliyah averted her gaze momentarily. “Long story. But Reem stepped down from the position.”

  A shadow of concern passed over Salima’s face. “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine. For me,” Aliyah added for emphasis. “But Reem wanted more than a teacher-student relationship, and well...” Aliyah was unsure how much she should share. “…I’m not comfortable discussing my private life with someone just because they think I need a friend.”

  Salima nodded knowingly, a pleasant expression on her face. “I know the feeling,” she said. “People take one look at my head wrap and start offering to teach me the Arabic alphabet and Al-Faatihah and even the fundamentals of Tawheed.”

  Aliyah laughed, relieved. “So it’s not just me?”

  “Trust me, I’ve been there,” Salima said. “Sometimes people ask if I know how to pray and if my husband was Muslim.” She shook her head, grinning. “It never ends.”

  “That doesn’t bother you?” Aliyah asked, curious.

  “Sometimes,” Salima said honestly. “But they mean well, so I try not to get offended. And there are people who need help with those things. It’s just hurtful that the assumption is either ignorance or neediness when they meet me.”

  “Do you think it’s a cultural thing?” Aliyah asked thoughtfully. “Because we’re American?”

  “Yes,” Salima said. “The general assumption is that people from Western countries are ignorant of Islam, even if they’re Muslim. So well-intentioned people from Muslim countries see us as an opportunity to earn blessings by teaching us about our religion.”

  “But what if we know more than they do?” Aliyah asked rhetorically. “What then?”

  Salima chuckled. “Then we have the opportunity to earn blessings.” She shook her head, smirking. “But, trust me, that doesn’t always go well. I’ve had people never speak to me again after they hear me recite Qur’an.”

  Aliyah drew her eyebrows together. “But why?”

  Salima shrugged. “They probably just don’t know how to deal with me anymore. But to be honest, I’ve experienced that with Americans too. For most Muslims, if they can’t place you into a simple category, they get confused and leave you alone.” Salima smirked. “That is, if they don’t just call you misguided and try to convert you to their group.”

  “What type of Muslim are you?” Aliyah said in agreement, mocking the question she was often asked.

  Salima laughed. “Or who’s your sheikh?”

  “Thank God I’m not the only Muslim who just wants to be Muslim,” Aliyah said, “without the prefix.” She shook her head. “But it gets lonely sometimes.”

  “Then stay lonely,” Salima said. “It’s better than doing something you don’t believe Allah asks of you.”

  “SubhaanAllah,” Aliyah said, relief in her voice. “I’m so glad I talked to you. I was starting to feel bad for keeping to myself.”

  “Never apologize for your personal boundaries,” Salima said. “Wherever you can find authentic knowledge about your faith, take advantage of it. But don’t let people bully you into committing yourself to one group, teacher, or school of thought. If that’s what works for them, cool. But some of us are just trying to hold on to our faith and go to Paradise. And we don’t need a special club membership for that.”

  “You can say that again,” Aliyah agreed.

  ***

  Aliyah was home from the mall and Ibrahim had already fallen asleep after lunch when she realized she hadn’t called Mashael. After the conversation with Jacob, Aliyah had completely forgotten. Though Aliyah was exhausted after spending most of the morning at the mall, she decided to call Mashael before lying down herself.

  “I’m sorry I’m just getting back with you,” Aliyah said after Mashael answered and they exchanged salaams. “But if you still want to come over, you can.”

  “Can I?” Mashael sounded eager and grateful.

  “Yes…” Aliyah said tentatively, sensing Mashael was ready to jump in her car right then. “But later this afternoon is better.”

  “That’s no problem,” Mashael said quickly.

  There was a brief silence. “Can you give me an idea what this is about?” Aliyah said.

  “It’s about marriage,” Mashael said in a low whisper, apparently in an effort to keep her family from overhearing.

  “Oh…” Aliyah said, uncomfortable. “But you know you can’t…” Aliyah’s thoughts trailed as she realized it wasn’t wise to offer advice before hearing everything Mashael wanted to say. Even if listening to Mashael’s story wouldn’t change Aliyah’s advice, it would certainly affect Mashael’s receptiveness to it.

  “Today’s not good?” Mashael said, concern in her voice.

  “No, no, no,” Aliyah said quickly, realizing that Mashael had misunderstood her unfinished statement to be related to the time of the visit. “Today’s fine. I just need to lie down for a couple of hours.”

  “Is five o’clock okay?” Mashael said, hopeful.

  Aliyah smiled. “Yes, insha’Allah. Five o’clock is perfect. I’ll text you my address now.”

  Chapter 19

  Wake Up Call

  “He’s terrible,” Mashael said, wrinkling her nose as she sat on the couch in Aliyah’s living room a comfortable distance from Aliyah Sunday afternoon. “I’m surprised he still works there.”

  “What did he do?” Aliyah said, eyebrows drawn together curiously.

  “You never heard about Dr. Stanley?” Mashael said, a disbelieving grin on her face.

  Aliyah shrugged. “I tend to keep to myself. I hear things here and there, but I never really pay attention long enough to know who anyone’s talking about.”

  “That’s good mashaAllah,” Mashael said reflectively, her eyes growing distant momentarily. “I wish more people were like that.”

  Aliyah was unsure how to respond, as she sensed Mashael was distrac
ted by an unpleasant thought. “Dr. Stanley and I are supposed to be working on a project together at work,” Aliyah said finally, making it a point to avoid mentioning Jacob. “So I just wanted to get an idea of what type of person he is.”

  “He’s an excellent math professor,” Mashael said tentatively, “but he flirts with a lot of students. When I was there, girls were whispering about how easy it was to get an A in his class, if you know what I mean.”

  Aliyah contorted her face. “Are you serious?”

  “Unfortunately.” Mashael frowned. “One year I heard there was a sexual harassment suit filed against him by another professor, but I think the charges were eventually dropped. One of my friends said the college decided to handle the problem internally.”

  “By the staff disciplinary committee,” Aliyah said aloud to herself, recalling that Jacob mentioned being a member.

  “I guess so,” Mashael said. “But from what I hear, that didn’t really stop him. It just made him more careful. Last thing I heard, he focuses on girls who are loners and don’t have a lot of support.”

  “Did you ever take any of his classes?”

  Mashael nodded. “Two. But I never had any problem with him except when he made offensive comments about religion.”

  “During math class?” Aliyah said, wrinkling her nose in disagreement.

  “Yes, all the time,” Mashael said, her tone suggesting disapproval. “But he always found a way to relate it to what we were studying, so you really couldn’t say anything.”

  Aliyah was quiet momentarily. “Is that where you met the guy who wants to marry you?”

  “In math class?”

  “No, at the college?”

  “Yes.” A reflective smile lingered on Mashael’s face. “We’ve been together about three years now.”

  Aliyah’s stomach churned in dread. She hoped Mashael wasn’t involved in a haraam relationship. “Do you need to pray Asr?” Aliyah said, feeling the sudden need for a spiritual mood before they talked.

  “Is it in?” Mashael said, lifting her wrist and looking at her watch.

  “It just came in,” Aliyah said, feeling relief that, whatever was going on with this “boyfriend,” Mashael hadn’t abandoned Salaah. “But I’m not praying, so you can go ahead.”

  “Where can I do wudhoo’?” Mashael asked, standing and glancing toward the hall where Ibrahim was in his room.

  “The bathroom’s the first door on the left,” Aliyah said, gesturing toward the hall.

  Aliyah’s apartment phone rang seconds after Mashael entered the bathroom. As she stood to answer, Aliyah recalled leaving her mobile phone in her bedroom. Aliyah looked at the caller ID and saw Matt’s name and her former home number on the display.

  “As-salaamu’alaikum,” Aliyah said as she answered.

  “Wa’alaiku-mus-salaam,” Matt said before pausing briefly. “Aliyah…” He exhaled in apology. “Nikki and I just got home from the hospital, and the doctors put her on bed rest, so we need you to keep Ibrahim for a few days.”

  Aliyah felt anxiety tighten in her chest. She had planned to arrive to work early in the morning so she could review the faculty handbook then meet with Dr. Warren before Dr. Stanley arrived. Where would she find a babysitter before then? Ibrahim wasn’t part of any weekday summer program, so she had no place to take him. “I’m sorry to hear about Nikki,” Aliyah said. “But I can drop off Ibrahim so she doesn’t have to drive. I don’t think he’ll be too much trouble. He’s become quite independent, mashaAllah.”

  “The doctor suggested that Nikki keep her stress level down, too,” Matt said. “So she won’t be able to keep Ibrahim until she’s better.”

  Aliyah tried to keep from getting upset. She had already been racking her brain on what to do after school started when she had Ibrahim full time; and she still hadn’t come up with any feasible plan. How was she supposed to come up with a solution overnight? It was aggravating that Matt and Nikki expected her to adjust to their sudden needs while they seemed to be completely oblivious to hers. If they wanted to keep Ibrahim during the weekend when he was supposed to be with his mother, they assumed that Aliyah would go along with it. And now when they wanted Aliyah to keep Ibrahim during the week when he was supposed to be with his father and stepmother, they assumed Aliyah would go along with that too.

  Aliyah understood that it would be difficult for Nikki to care for Ibrahim while she was unwell, but how was Aliyah’s predicament any better than Matt’s? If Aliyah was capable of finding a last minute babysitter while she was at work, why couldn’t Matt do the same while he was at work? Then Matt could pick up Ibrahim at the end of the workday, as he was expecting Aliyah to do. Did Matt imagine that his schedule was more strained than Aliyah’s?

  For a fleeting moment, Aliyah considered getting in her car and taking Ibrahim to his father’s house. But she dismissed the idea. When Aliyah was a stay-at-home-mother, she had taken care of Ibrahim on her good and bad days, even when she was too sick to get out of bed. Because that’s what mothers do. Calling in sick was never an option. If she was unwell, she mothered from the bed, and Matt took over when he got home. Why couldn’t Matt and Nikki do the same?

  “So she’ll be better in a few days?” Aliyah asked doubtfully.

  Aliyah heard Matt exhale. “I don’t know… We hope so.” That means no, Aliyah thought to herself in annoyance. So this was really about her keeping Ibrahim from now on. Even if Aliyah miraculously found childcare in the next few hours, she had no idea where she would get the money to pay someone for the rest of summer.

  “Maybe Nikki can keep Ibrahim just for tomorrow?” Aliyah suggested hesitantly, hoping that Matt could understand the difficult predicament they were putting Aliyah in. “Then she can find a babysitter before Tuesday.”

  “Like I said,” Matt said, apology in his tone, “she’s trying to keep her stress down. So that might be too much for her.”

  “Then maybe you can find a babysitter?” Aliyah said, careful to keep sarcasm out of her tone.

  “I have to work,” Matt said, as if that explained everything.

  “Yes, of course.” Aliyah resisted the urge to say, “I do, too.” It just didn’t feel right arguing about the obvious. If Matt and Nikki were unwilling to take care of Ibrahim themselves or find childcare while Nikki was unwell, then Matt’s home probably wasn’t the best place for Ibrahim. No matter how frustrating this all was, Ibrahim’s emotional and psychological well-being took precedence over everything.

  “Where’s the qiblah?”

  Aliyah was holding the cordless at her side after ending the call with Matt when she heard Mashael behind her. “It’s this way,” Aliyah said, turning and using the phone to gesture toward a corner of the living room.

  “Do you have a prayer garment and a sajjaadah?” Mashael asked.

  “Sorry.” Aliyah forced a smile as she returned the cordless to its base. Instinctively, she wondered what Mashael did when she was not at a Muslim’s home. It was something that Aliyah often wondered about women who didn’t wear hijab. Did they keep a prayer garment or khimaar in their handbag? Or did they delay Salaah until they got home? “They’re in my room,” Aliyah said before disappearing down the hall and returning with the garment and prayer mat a minute later.

  As Mashael laid out the sajjaadah to face Makkah and put on Aliyah’s one-piece prayer garment, Aliyah hurried to her room to call Salima on her mobile.

  “I’m in a bind, Salima,” Aliyah said hurriedly after they exchanged salaams.

  “What’s going on?” Salima said, genuine concern in her tone.

  “I need a babysitter or a summer day camp for Ibrahim for the next four weeks,” Aliyah said. “And it has to be affordable.”

  There was an extended pause. “Most summer camps ended last week…” Salima said, as if thinking out loud. “But most childcare centers are open year round.”

  “I don’t think I can afford a childcare center,” Aliyah said, doubtful.

  “Matt won
’t be paying for it?” Salima asked.

  “Eventually, insha’Allah,” Aliyah said, uncertainty in her tone. “At least that’s my prayer. But I need something for tomorrow morning.”

  “Tomorrow morning?” Salima’s voice rose in surprise.

  “You don’t think it’s possible?” Aliyah asked in a small voice, her heart constricting in panic.

  “I don’t know, Aliyah,” Salima said apologetically, her tone suggesting doubt. “Best case scenario, you’ll find something for Tuesday, and that’s only if you’re really lucky. But I don’t know of any place open on a Sunday evening, so you’d have to wait until tomorrow to even see if there are any openings.”

  “Where do you take Haroon?” Aliyah asked hopefully.

  “We have an onsite children’s center where I work.”

  “That’s nice mashaAllah,” Aliyah said, sad reflection in her tone.

  “Can you take Ibrahim to work with you just for this week?” Salima said. “He could just stay in your office.”

  Aliyah’s thoughts went immediately to the fiasco with Dr. Warren that was awaiting her first thing in the morning. There was no way Aliyah could risk bringing her son to work. Even without the Dr. Stanley issue, Aliyah was still rebuilding her professional reputation following the Deanna incident. “I have spoken to you at length about my concerns about any family coming to our offices during work hours,” Dr. Warren had said during the meeting with Jacob and Aliyah, “and you assured me that it’s all under control. I hope this remains the case?”

  “I know it’s not ideal,” Salima said. “But during the summer, a lot of schools are relaxed about staff bringing their children to work.”

  “Not where I work,” Aliyah said regretfully.

  “You don’t know any sisters who do childcare?”

  Anxiety knotted in Aliyah’s stomach. “One…” she said hesitantly.

  “Call her,” Salima said. “She might be willing to take Ibrahim tomorrow morning.”

  “But that was a while ago…” Aliyah said, feeling humiliated at the thought of calling the sister for anything. “I’m not even sure she does it anymore.”