by Umm Zakiyyah
“I need to talk to you,” Salima whispered, leaning over and clipping Aliyah on the shoulder. “After we leave here, insha’Allah,” she added before standing upright and cooing at the baby.
***
“Can you come to Muslim Marriage Monologues this Friday?” Salima asked an hour later as she and Aliyah walked to their cars, Haroon and Ibrahim behind them throwing each other friendly punches.
Aliyah frowned apologetically. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Between squeezing in time for me and Jacob, homeschooling Ibrahim, and trying to figure out what to do about this job at the college, I can hardly think straight.”
Salima nodded. “I know what you mean,” she said sincerely. “That’s how I felt after I went back to work after Mikaeel died.”
“Well, I’m sure it’s nothing like that,” Aliyah said, coughing in embarrassed laughter.
“Stress is stress, girl,” Salima said, waving her hand dismissively. “May Allah make it easy for you.”
“Maybe I can try next Friday, insha’Allah?” Aliyah said.
“That’s fine,” Salima said tentatively. “It’s just that I wanted you to meet Mikaeel’s sister. She’s coming to stay with me for a few days insha’Allah. And Friday’s probably the only day we’ll be still long enough for her to meet anyone.” The shadow of a smile played at her lips. “And she asked to meet you.”
Aliyah’s eyes widened slightly. “Really?” she said, smiling.
“I told her a lot about you.”
“MashaAllah,” Aliyah said, unsure what to say to this. “I didn’t know he had a sister.”
Salima halted her steps near the cars parked along the curb then opened her handbag and withdrew her car keys. “We’re not exactly friends though,” she said with a wry smile. “But we make it work. She’s Haroon’s only Muslim family on his father’s side.”
“They converted?” Aliyah asked, glancing down as she rummaged for her own keys.
Salima shook her head. “She and Mikaeel grew up Muslim. His parents accepted Islam together and raised Mikaeel and Kalimah as Muslims. But his parents passed away.”
Aliyah felt a stab of pity for Kalimah. She felt strangely connected to Mikaeel’s sister at that moment, perhaps because Aliyah herself was the only Muslim in her immediate family.
“I’ll come insha’Allah,” Aliyah said with a shrug, smiling. “I can make time.”
Salima’s face seemed to brighten. “You sure?”
A grin creased one side of Aliyah’s mouth. “Why not? I don’t know if I’ll ever get this opportunity again.”
“She’ll be happy to meet you.”
“And I’m sure I’ll be happy to meet her,” Aliyah said.
“But I have to warn you,” Salima said, slight humor in her tone, “she’s pretty feisty.”
“That’s fine,” Aliyah said, waving her hand dismissively. “I can do feisty.”
A reflective smile lingered on Salima’s lips as she looked toward where the boys were playing. “Kalimah and I didn’t always get along though.”
Aliyah looked toward the boys too, frowning thoughtfully. She sensed this was a sensitive topic for Salima. “Why’s that?”
“I don’t know…” Salima exhaled broodingly. “I used to think it was because she had such a strong personality.” A look of distaste passed over her face. “We argued a lot too, so I figured that might be it,” she said.
Aliyah thought of her relationship with Cassie and how even before she became Muslim, they never really got along.
“But now I realize it was because I felt she was a bad influence on my husband.”
Aliyah drew her eyebrows together and turned to look at Salima. “Really? Why?”
Salima narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Kalimah and her husband have been married for about ten years now,” she said. “But I never agreed with the marriage, and I wasn’t quiet about it.” She heaved a sigh that came out ragged, as if she was steadying a wave of emotions. “So she and Mikaeel didn’t see each other that much.”
Aliyah watched Haroon and Ibrahim run through the front yard as they waited for their mothers to finish talking. “Why didn’t you agree with the marriage?”
Salima grunted. “Pride. Stupidity. Self-righteousness,” she said. “If you want the truth.”
Aliyah was silent, her gaze still on the boys.
“But honestly…” Salima’s lips formed a thin line momentarily. “…I felt if Mikaeel spent a lot time with Kalimah and his brother-in-law, then he’d want to marry a second wife too.”
Aliyah met Salima’s eyes, a question on her face, but Salima was still looking toward the front yard. “Kalimah’s husband was already married when she married him?” Aliyah asked, surprised curiosity in her tone.
Salima nodded then looked at Aliyah. “Remember when we first met and I invited you to Muslim Marriage Monologues and I told you it was for Muslims in relationship crises?”
“Yes,” Aliyah said, nodding. “We were at the halal market.”
“And I told you why everyone’s welcome?” Salima said.
Aliyah nodded, remembering. “When you’re young and insecure, you think the biggest threat to your marriage is out there somewhere,” Salima had said. “I used to think the same until one night I went to sleep as a married woman with three children and woke up as a single mother of one.”
“That was when you told me you were a widow,” Aliyah said.
“Well, it wasn’t just losing a husband that inspired my new perspective,” Salima said. “It was watching how Mikaeel’s sister suffered his loss, too.”
Aliyah was silent, unsure what to say.
“I know it sounds crazy,” Salima said. “But that was the first time I actually saw Kalimah as human being just like me. Before that, she was just his annoying home-wrecking sister.”
“SubhaanAllah,” Aliyah said. “That’s really how you thought of her?”
Salima moved her head in a nod, an entanglement of emotions apparent in that small gesture. “And every time she and her husband wanted to visit, I pitched a fit.” Salima’s eyes glistened in sadness. “Because of me,” Salima said, her voice breaking and her face crumpling slightly, “she didn’t get to spend a lot of time with her brother before he died.”
Aliyah looked away, unable to withstand the agonizing regret in Salima’s eyes.
Salima wiped her eyes with the tips of her fingers, her keys dangling and jingling with the motion. “But anyway,” she said, her voice rising in an effort to sound positive, “Alhamdulillah, we’re on better terms now.”
“Alhamdulillah,” Aliyah said, agreeing, hoping to say anything to make it better for Salima.
“But it’ll be nice if you can come Friday,” Salima said, her voice and expression returning to a semblance of pleasantness. “Kalimah will probably share something she wrote a few years ago,” she said. “It’s about her experience with how Muslims mistreat sisters who marry into polygyny.”
“Ouch,” Aliyah said, humor in her tone. “I’m not sure I want to hear that one.”
“Me either, if I’m honest,” Salima said, smirking, laughter in her voice. “But I already heard it before, so I think I’ll be all right hearing it a second time,” she said. “I was the one who suggested she perform it at Muslim Marriage Monologues,” she added with a shrug, her expression going reflective again. “It’s the least I can do.”
Aliyah nodded. “That makes sense.”
“But girl,” Salima said, lifting a hand and waving Haroon over, “let me get this boy home so he can do his homework and I can get everything ready before work tomorrow.”
“I’ll see you Friday night insha’Allah,” Aliyah said.
“I’m going to call you,” Salima said, embarrassed laughter in her voice. “I got to talking about all this Kalimah stuff, I didn’t even get to ask you what I wanted.”
Aliyah creased her forehead. “That isn’t what you wanted to talk about?”
Salima smirked. “Girl, no. I could’
ve texted to ask you about Friday,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “I wanted to ask your advice about Larry.”
“Oh okay,” Aliyah said, feeling awkward as she recalled Jasmine’s strange behavior earlier. She wondered if it would be appropriate to mention her suspicions about Jasmine knowing about Larry’s interest.
“Haroon!” Salima called out, slight irritation in her voice as she waved him over again. “Let’s go!”
Aliyah turned and gestured to Ibrahim, but he was already trailing behind Haroon.
“I just need someone else to bounce all this off of,” Salima said, humored self-consciousness in her tone, a hesitant smile on her face. “Sometimes I feel like I’m losing my mind even taking this boy seriously.”
Aliyah started to say, “I understand.” But she stopped herself, fearing that the acknowledgement would carry an unintended connotation based on her past with Larry.
“No problem,” Aliyah said finally. “Give me a call. I’m free all day. Jacob has a lot of work to do for the college, so I doubt we’ll even get a phone call in today.”
“All right then, ukhti,” Salima said, drawing Aliyah into a brief perfunctory hug. “As-salaamu’alaikum.”
“Wa’alaiku-mus-salaam wa-rahmatullaahi wa barakaatuh,” Aliyah replied.
***
“You can’t be serious,” Larry said, a disbelieving smirk on his face as he turned his body to look at Jamil, who sat next to him at the dining room table in Jacob’s home Wednesday evening. Jacob sat at the head while Aliyah sat at an angle next to him, across from the men and next to Salima.
It was Aliyah’s idea to have the dinner that night. After she and Salima had talked on the phone Sunday, Aliyah suggested that Salima take Larry up on his suggestion to at least get to know him better before saying no. Salima and Larry had then discussed “halaal dating” options, and the only one Salima felt comfortable with was “halaal socializing” wherein Aliyah and Jacob, as well as her brother Jamil, would get together whenever possible.
Since Mikaeel’s sister would be visiting Salima for a few days through the weekend, Aliyah had suggested that Salima and Larry’s first “halaal date” be a casual dinner that week before Kalimah arrived. When Aliyah mentioned the dinner idea to Jacob, he was more than happy to offer his home. It was heartwarming to see how much he cared for his brother, and Aliyah was left wondering how it would feel to have blood family who loved her and valued her happiness in that way.
“You mean to tell me that you would be one hundred percent happy,” Larry said in a humored tone, eyebrows raised skeptically, “if you married a woman and she wanted to prioritize her career over her family?”
Jamil coughed in self-conscious laughter. “I didn’t say I’d be happy about it,” he said. “I’m just saying I wouldn’t have a problem with it.”
“Bull,” Larry proclaimed, shaking his head and shifting his position back toward the table. He reached forward and lifted the pitcher of water and poured some into his almost-empty glass then set the pitcher back down in soft thud. He took a few gulps of water before turning his head and narrowing his eyes skeptically at Jamil. “If these two young ladies weren’t either already taken or family to you, I’d think you were trying to impress them.”
Salima’s expression suggested that she was humored by the remark, and Aliyah sensed that Salima was genuinely attracted to Larry.
“Maybe he’s just saying it’s not worth the fight,” Salima offered, apparently in obligatory sibling compassion.
Larry looked directly at Salima then, the smirk still on his face. Salima averted her eyes, an embarrassed smile playing at her lips. “Okay, then,” Larry said, his tone suggesting he was going to ask Salima a probing follow-up question, but Aliyah noticed how his voice became gentler when he addressed Salima. “Do you think it’s completely rational for a man to be okay with his children being in the care of strangers when he makes enough money for his wife to stay home?”
Salima nodded. “Yes, I do,” she said frankly. Her pleasant, self-conscious expression remained, but there was no shyness in her voice.
Larry threw his back against his chair in exaggerated disbelief. But the soft expression on his face when he looked at Salima made Aliyah smile at the obvious affection there. “No,” he said to Salima in playful devastation. “You’re killing me.”
Salima raised a finger, a smile toying at her lips as she prepared a clarification. “You asked if it would be completely rational,” she said. “And I think it would be, especially if he knows this is something his wife really wants and that fighting about it might break up their marriage.” She smirked as she looked directly at Larry for the first time. “But if you’d asked if the situation would be ideal,” she said, “I would’ve given a different answer.”
“Lord have mercy,” Larry said, shaking his head before turning his attention back to Jamil. “I thought you were the only lawyer here tonight. What mind games are you teaching your sister?”
Everyone chuckled or grinned at Larry’s comment.
“It’s not a mind game,” Jamil said, offering his sister a grateful smile as he glanced in her direction. “It’s the truth. You do what’s right for the situation, not just what would make you happy as a man.”
Larry shook his head, as if he wasn’t having any of it. “Nah, man, I’m not into all this political correctness, feminist ish. Men’s feelings and needs should be respected too, and I’m not feeling my wife putting our children in daycare just because she watched too many Hilary Clinton speeches and has Beyoncé’s song ‘Who Rules the World?’ on repeat.”
Jamil grinned. “I think it’s called ‘Run the World,’ man.”
“Seriously?” Larry asked, his eyes narrowed at Jamil as if this piece of information genuinely surprised him enough to halt his argument.
Jamil nodded. “I’m pretty sure.”
“Damn,” Larry said. “That’s even worse. The question is less rogue than the command. That chick is sending women subliminal messages to wreck their homes.”
Everyone laughed.
“I’m serious,” Larry insisted. “You don’t think I’m right?” He was looking at Jacob now.
Jacob threw up his hands, a close-lipped smile on his face, as if to say he’s not in it. “I don’t know, bro. I’m just a student here.”
“Come on, Jacob, you know these songs are teaching men and women to disrespect each other.”
Jacob nodded. “That’s true. I just don’t know if Beyoncé is intentionally sending that message.”
“I agree with Larry,” Salima said sincerely. “Whether it’s intentional or not, Beyoncé and other singers are corrupting a lot of people, and when people try to live out what they hear in these songs, it wreaks havoc in their homes.”
“Exactly,” Larry said, slapping the flat of his hand on the table, causing some of the dishes to rattle.
Jacob shook his head. “I think we’re being overly simplistic here,” he said. “I don’t disagree that most of these songs are problematic. But to say that they wreck homes is a bit extreme. It takes a lot more than a rebellious song to dismantle a family. If that happens, then the problem started somewhere else. I think it’s possible to listen to these songs and not be negatively affected.”
Aliyah raised her eyebrows at that one. It wasn’t that she disagreed with her husband. It was just that she’d never considered the perspective before. But she didn’t speak her thoughts aloud. She didn’t feel it was respectful to Salima to actively participate in any discussions that took place in the context of Salima and Larry getting to know each other. Everyone else there had the right to chime in. Jamil was Salima’s brother, Jacob was Larry’s brother, and of course Larry and Salima themselves were expected to interact. That was the whole point of these gatherings. But Aliyah was there only because Salima didn’t want to be the only woman, and because she wanted Aliyah’s honest opinion on what she thought of Larry as a person. However, given Aliyah’s past with Larry, Aliyah felt it wises
t to offer no more than Salima had requested: her presence.
“Bro, are you serious?” Larry said in humored disbelief. “Everything you watch or listen to affects you either negatively or positively. And I don’t see how Beyoncé songs can be the latter.”
Jacob shrugged. “Actions are by intention, man.” A vibrating noise followed by a chime sounded in the middle of his comment. “Everybody isn’t listening to music so they can learn about life,” he said as he patted his pockets and glanced around the room, apparently in search of his mobile phone.
“It’s on the floor table in the living room,” Aliyah said in a low voice, leaning toward Jacob and nodding her head in the direction of where his phone lay.
He twisted his body until he was looking behind him, then nodded. “Thanks,” he muttered as he got up and walked over to it.
“Subliminal messages are called subliminal for a reason, bro,” Larry said, raising his voice so that Jacob could hear him from the living room, where he stopped at the floor table to pick up his phone. “They exist in a realm beyond our conscious. So intentions are irrelevant.”
Jacob shook his head as he glanced at the screen of his phone and ran his forefinger over it to unlock it. “No,” he said, looking up at Larry as he walked back over to the table. “Lack of intentions is irrelevant for subliminal messaging. That’s what they depend on, passive, mindless listening. But subliminal messages aren’t as powerful in the face of conscious intentions, especially if I’m aware of the possibility that the message could be harmful to me in some way.” With the hand he was using to hold the phone, he gestured toward Larry as he sat down. “That’s something these conspiracy theorists don’t talk about. You have more power over your mind than anyone else does, no matter how grand the plan is to corrupt it.”
“But you’re still affected,” Larry said, “even if you intend not to be.”
“That’s why I said the messages aren’t as powerful,” Jacob said. “I didn’t say they have no effect whatsoever. But with conscious intentions, you can actually get something beneficial out of an otherwise corrupt message.”
