His Other Wife

by Umm Zakiyyah

  “Well, we thank you for coming,” Mr. Bivens said, the cordiality in his voice lessening the awkwardness of the moment but highlighting the awkwardness of Deanna’s presence.

  Deanna nodded and offered her father-in-law a polite close-lipped smile, lowering her gaze modestly as if to downplay her generosity of the moment. The effect was like a person of royalty bowing her head to her subjects after her kindness had moved her to bestow on them something they valued greatly. “It’s no problem, really,” Deanna muttered, the smile twitching at her lips as she flipped her hand at the wrist.

  “So you and Jacob are getting divorced?” Mrs. Bivens asked, the directness of her question crumbling the fragile cordiality of the moment.

  “He wants to,” Deanna said, the accusation in her voice unintentionally adding tension to the moment. But she remained oblivious to the lack of judiciousness of her blaming tone in the presence of his family. She flashed another smile. “But I’m trying to be the better person.”

  ***

  Matt was standing outside in front of the masjid with Benjamin, Larry, Jacob, and Sayed when Aliyah pulled her car into the parking lot Sunday afternoon. Salima sat in the passenger seat next to Aliyah, and Haroon and Ibrahim sat in the back. It was odd seeing the men talking together as if they were old friends, but it was also heartwarming. It gave Aliyah the feeling of being part of a genuine community.

  It was at that moment that Aliyah realized that the entire atmosphere of the Muslim community seemed calmer and less intimidating now that Deanna was no longer part of her life. Perhaps all of her previous anxiety was due mostly to Deanna being her constant companion. Even occasionally running into Juwayriah didn’t inspire as much apprehension as it did before. Aliyah doubted that Juwayriah would ever be someone she considered a close friend, but Juwayriah was no longer someone she felt she had to avoid.

  “So you’re no longer on Facebook, huh?” Salima said as Aliyah navigated the parking lot in search of a good space.

  Eyebrows drawn together, Aliyah glanced at Salima. “What makes you ask that?”

  “You didn’t know about the ‘aqeeqah.”

  “Oh yeah,” Aliyah said, as if that were a sufficient answer. But she really didn’t know what else to say. At one point, during the “hot Muslim mistress” saga, she had made a conscious decision to stay offline, but now she had forgotten about it.

  “It’s really that stressful for you?”

  Aliyah shook her head. “I don’t even think about it, to be honest.”

  Salima coughed knowingly, laughter in that sound, as if she and Aliyah were sharing a private joke. “I say the same about checking my voicemail.”

  Aliyah turned the steering wheel as she maneuvered the car into an empty space not too far from the entrance. “Your voicemail?” she repeated, a question on her face.

  “Most of the time my voicemail is full, so people have a hard time reaching me if I don’t answer the phone,” Salima said. “Unless they text me.” She shrugged. “I guess I’m better at texts.”

  As Aliyah put the car in park, she recalled calling Salima when she needed last minute childcare for Ibrahim and getting the automated message that Salima’s voicemail was full.

  “I used to say it was because I keep forgetting to check the messages and delete the old ones. But now I realize it’s because I’m afraid of what I’ll hear if I check the messages,” she said, “and because I’m afraid to delete the old ones.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of what happened with Mikaeel,” Salima said. But her voice sounded matter-of-fact, not sad. “I’m still afraid to hear voicemails because I don’t know what they’ll say, and I’m still afraid to delete old ones because I never know if I’ll hear from that person again.”

  A thoughtful silence followed as Aliyah turned off the car and unlocked the doors. “I don’t think it’s anything like that for me,” Aliyah said, but her voice sounded uncertain, even to her own ears. “I just…” Her voice trailed, as she was unsure what she was trying to say.

  “I’m not saying it to criticize,” Salima clarified as they opened their doors and got out the car, Haroon and Ibrahim following suit. “It makes sense, honestly,” she said raising her voice over the roof of the car. “I’m starting to hate social media myself. I feel like for most of us, it does more harm than good.”

  Aliyah was silent as they closed their doors and she lifted the keychain to the car to lock it. When she and Salima were side by side, each holding her son’s hand, she said, “I don’t know if I’d say I hate social media. I just haven’t had time to get on lately.”

  “Well, to me,” Salima said, pointing to herself with her free hand, “it’s like how the combination of credit cards and online stores creates impulse buying. Except now, it’s the combination of internet and social media that creates impulse bickering,” she said. “Half the stuff people post about, they don’t even remember a week or a month later.”

  Aliyah forced laughter. “I think I can remember everything I’ve posted in the last year.”

  “That’s because you don’t post much,” Salima said, lowering her voice slightly as they neared the masjid entrance. The group of brothers shouted salaams and they passed, and Aliyah and Salima gave salaams in reply, waving their hands and offering Jacob and Larry smiles.

  “Maybe,” Aliyah replied with a shrug.

  Salima sighed. “I don’t know, girl. I’m probably wrong, but I just figured you were avoiding Facebook because of all the stress of dealing with people online.”

  At the main doors, Haroon and Ibrahim let go of their mothers’ hands and walked ahead into the masjid.

  “So how’s everything going with you and Larry?” Aliyah asked in a low voice after Haroon and Ibrahim were out of earshot.

  Salima glanced over her shoulder as a grin formed at her mouth. “We’ll see, insha’Allah,” she said, the finality of her tone letting Aliyah know that Salima wouldn’t be sharing any more than that. But Aliyah was pleased with the response, taking it to mean that things were going well between Salima and Larry. She smiled to herself as they walked passed the musallaa and followed the signs pointing to where the women’s section would be for the ‘aqeeqah.

  ***

  The noise level rose as Aliyah and Salima descended the stairs into the basement, and when they opened the doors to the large room where the women were gathered, they found many of the women dressed up as if it were a wedding party instead of an ‘aqeeqah. The sound of the daff pounded rhythmically from a stereo, and some of the women were dancing. Aliyah and Salima grinned at each other and exchanged questioning glances.

  “You came!”

  Aliyah looked up to find Nikki coming toward her, arms spread in the beginning of a hug. Aliyah was a bit taken aback by the warm welcome, and by Nikki’s elaborate appearance. Nikki wore an off-white satin dress and a diamond studded gold necklace, and white teardrop earrings dangled from her ears.

  “Of course I came,” Aliyah said, laughter in her voice. “I’m the Ummi now,”

  “I just didn’t know if you’d feel comfortable,” Nikki said, still smiling but averting her gaze momentarily. “You know…”

  A confused expression lingered on Aliyah’s face. Though she had no idea why Nikki would imagine she’d feel uncomfortable, especially after their godmother agreement, Aliyah decided to lighten the mood. “I wish I would’ve known to dress up!” she said jokingly. “I feel like a party pooper dressed like this.”

  Nikki frowned sympathetically. “Oh it’s okay. A few other sisters didn’t get the event change notification either.”

  “Event change?” Salima said, creasing her forehead as she looked at Nikki.

  Nikki laughed self-consciously. “Oh, I guess you didn’t either.” She flipped her hand at the wrist. “It’s okay. A couple of weeks ago, Matt and I decided to make it a waleemah and ‘aqeeqah together.” She wasn’t looking at Salima or Aliyah when she said this. “You know… because we never got to do our wedding
party.”

  Oh. Aliyah maintained the cheerful expression, but she had no idea what to say to that.

  “MashaAllah!” Salima exclaimed, pulling Nikki into an effusive hug, saving Aliyah from the mortification of saying anything congratulatory. “Mabrook!” she said, wishing blessings upon Matt and Nikki as she held Nikki in an extended embrace.

  By the time Salima released Nikki, a few other sisters had come up to greet Nikki and congratulate her, so Aliyah was spared any further conversation.

  “You okay?” Salima whispered, leaning into Aliyah after the women had whisked Nikki away.

  Aliyah nodded. “Yes, alhamdulillah,” she said. “I’m fine.” And she was. After the shock of the moment had passed, she actually felt herself feeling happy for Nikki.

  “Good.” Salima slapped Aliyah on the shoulder playfully. “Because your man is upstairs, and it’s all good.”

  Aliyah smiled and nodded. “It certainly is,” she said, thinking of the intimate moment she’d shared with Jacob. The memory itself made her cheeks go warm, and the familiar anticipation made her heart quicken as she looked forward to the time when she and Jacob could live fully as husband and wife.

  “Now let’s get something to eat,” Salima said, tugging on Aliyah’s hand.

  As they stood in the line for food, Aliyah took a moment to look around the room. It was heartwarming to see all the Muslims present to support Nikki and Matt. Aliyah wondered how her life would have turned out differently if she had been surrounded by real friends instead of only Deanna after she became Muslim. She wondered if her marriage itself would have felt different if she had other friends.

  Aliyah felt something flat and stiff being placed in her hand, and she looked down to see that Salima had passed a paper plate to her. The aroma of food tickled Aliyah’s nostrils, and her stomach grumbled as the array of food came into view. Stainless steel food warmers were aligned on a row of tables, and Aliyah scanned the options to decide what she would eat.

  When she was in front of the warmers, she served herself some natural rice, grilled chicken and baked kale then followed Salima to a table that had a few empty seats. They had just settled down and started to eat when Aliyah glanced up then did a double take when she saw Jasmine enter the room, face framed by a gold-trimmed black khimaar. Aliyah instinctively looked at Salima, who had a pleasant expression on her face as she enjoyed her food and chatted with the sister who sat in the other chair next to her. Hoping Jasmine would not see them, Aliyah turned her body slightly and continued eating, pretending to be engrossed in Salima’s conversation.

  “Oh. My. God.”

  Aliyah cringed when she heard Salima say these words, eyes fixed on the door where Jasmine had just entered. From the sound of Salima’s voice, Aliyah knew Jasmine must have done something more shocking than merely arriving. But Aliyah willed herself not to look in Jasmine’s direction. After witnessing Jasmine’s disapproving look at Salima when they’d visited Nikki’s house to see the baby, Aliyah feared that Jasmine knew about Salima and Larry and would cause trouble.

  “Don’t worry,” Salima said in a low whisper, leaning into Aliyah and gripping her leg under the table in an apparent effort to be discreet. “I’ll take care of this.”

  Creasing her forehead, Aliyah opened her mouth to ask Salima what she’d meant. But when her eyes followed Salima’s line of vision, her heart dropped. Walking next to Jasmine was Deanna. Aliyah clamped her mouth shut and felt her palms moisten in perspiration. Deanna’s face was tight in an expression of contempt as her eyes swept the room as if she had somewhere else she’d rather be. She was dressed in a long fitting black dress and a long-sleeved short jacket. Her hair was styled loosely around her shoulders, and there was no evidence of a hijab anywhere.

  “Just relax and stay calm,” Salima whispered as Jasmine and Deanna drew closer to their table. This time, Aliyah listened, drawing in a deep breath and exhaling slowly to calm herself.

  “Well, well, well,” Jasmine said in an exaggerated tone of pleasant surprise, loud enough for anyone standing nearby to hear. Her voice was rivaled only by the sound of the daff thumping from the speakers and distant laughter and chatter from parts of the room far from them. “MashaAllah,” she said, her expression conveying that she was proud of herself for some reason. “I guess this is the table for husband stealers?”

  A hushed silence fell over the room like a rippling wave until there were no sounds except the hushed whispers of women eagerly enlightening oblivious guests about the background of what was unfolding and the rhythmic beating of the daff like a quickened heartbeat of tense anticipation.

  “May we join you?” Jasmine said mockingly, a sneer on her face as she glanced sideways at Deanna in an obvious effort to impress Deanna. But Deanna didn’t seem to be paying attention to what Jasmine was saying, a look of annoyance and boredom on her face as she continued to glance around the room. Aliyah wondered if Deanna had even seen her sitting there. She hoped by some miracle or divine intervention that Deanna hadn’t.

  “These seats are actually taken,” Salima said, apology in her tone as she offered Jasmine a polite but contrived smile.

  “You’re saving them for Larry and Jacob?” Jasmine said, her voice rising at the last word. Mention of Jacob seemed to jar something in Deanna, and she snapped her head in the direction of Salima and Aliyah and gave them once-over.

  Deanna opened her mouth to say something, but the screeching of a microphone interrupted her as the music was suddenly turned off. Everyone’s head turned to the back of the room where there was a small platform with a microphone.

  “A’oodhu billaahi me-nash-Shaytaanirrajeem,” a soft, beautiful melodic voice reverberated through the microphone and filled the room, silencing everyone at once. “Bismillaahir-rahmaanir-raheem,” the voice recited, elongating the syllable beautifully, and Aliyah found herself searching for the source of the sound. A second later she found Reem standing before the microphone, her eyes shut as she concentrated on the meaning of the words. She wore a long bronze Arab-style wide dress with gold embroidering on the front and sleeves, her hair in a single braid, gold earrings dangling from her ears. Before that moment, Aliyah hadn’t even realized Reem was there. “Yaa-ayyuhalladheena aamanoo laa tuqaddemuoo bayna yadillaahi wa rasoolih, wattaqullaah,” Reem recited the opening verses of Al-Hujuraat from the Qur’an. “InnAllaaha samee’un ‘aleem…”

  Reem continued reciting the soorah in a slow measured tone, taking her time and allowing the tranquil power of Allah’s Words to settle over the room. Women who were standing discreetly shuffled across the room to find a seat, and those who were serving themselves food slowly moved along in the line, their eyes on Reem as they listened to the beautiful recitation.

  Jasmine and Deanna stayed where they were, the only ones still standing except for the women serving themselves food. But Jasmine and Deanna were quiet as they looked toward Reem.

  “…InnAllaah ya’lamu ghaybas-samaati wal-‘arDh,” Reem recited. “Wallaahu baseerum be-maa ta’maloon.” Even as Reem came to the closing of the soorah, the room remained quiet.

  “I chose this soorah, this chapter of the Qur’an, to recite today,” Reem said, her voice shaking slightly, and Aliyah wondered if Reem had been scheduled as part of the program or if this was an impromptu speech to halt the trouble that had been unfolding, “because it explains so beautifully the blessings and the warnings Allah gives us as a community. And as we know, the family forms the foundation of the community,” she said. “ And today, Matthew and Nicole are celebrating not only the birth of their daughter Bushra but their marriage as well.”

  There was a slight rustling noise from where Jasmine and Deanna stood, and Aliyah glanced in their direction and found them walking toward the food.

  “Allah also tells us in this soorah that we are a single brotherhood and sisterhood, joined by our emaan, our faith in Him,” Reem continued. “And it is through holding together this bond and having taqwaa that we attain His merc
y. And one of the most beautiful ways of bringing together hearts and fearing Allah is through the bond of marriage and having children.”

  Reem’s eyes seemed to follow Jasmine and Deanna momentarily before turning her attention back to the crowd. “In this soorah, Allah makes reference to this bond when He says that He created mankind from male and female,” Reem said. “He then goes on to tell us that He made us into nations and tribes so that we will come to know each other. And amongst these diverse groups, the ones who are the best are those with the most taqwaa. In other words, they are those who are the most conscious of their meeting with Allah and work daily to protect themselves from Allah’s punishment. And what better path to taqwaa than through marriage, starting a family, and joining the hearts of Muslim brothers and sisters like we’re doing today?”

  After Reem’s speech, the reflective, tranquil atmosphere that had settled over the room lingered, even as the wedding nasheeds and the dancing resumed, and the social chatter picked up.

  ***

  Thank you, Nikki mouthed to Reem as Reem walked away from the microphone after her impromptu speech. Reem smiled and mouthed, You’re welcome. But she didn’t return to where she had been dancing amongst the other women. She was too shaken up from what had just happened to resume her carefree, festive attitude from a half hour before, though she was pleased that others were able to. Seeing Jasmine, Deanna by her side, confront Aliyah and Salima so nastily, and at Nikki’s waleemah, had stirred something in Reem that was a mixture of rage, shame, and compassion.

  It was enraging to see the cruelty that people were capable of, and to their own Muslim sisters. And for what? The scene itself incited in Reem shame for Jasmine’s and Deanna’s sakes. If only they could see themselves, Reem had thought in empathetic mortification. If only they could see what others saw. If only they could see the evil of their actions.