His Other Wife

by Umm Zakiyyah

  “What sister?”

  “Juwayriah bint Abdullah.”

  Sayed glanced at the screen again but didn’t say anything.

  “How can she take the name of one of the mothers of believers,” Reem fumed, “then say she’s the daughter of the servant of Allah, and act like that?”

  A thoughtful silence followed. “I don’t think she took the name. Her parents probably gave it to her,” Sayed said reflectively. “And it’s a beautiful name, mashaAllah. So she shouldn’t change it.”

  “She should if she’s acting like that!”

  Sayed shook his head. “No, she shouldn’t,” he said. “She should change her behavior if she’s acting like that. But she should keep the name. It could be a reminder to her one day.”

  “But—”

  “Should you change your family name from Muhammad whenever you sin?” Sayed asked gently. “No one is perfect.”

  At that, Reem grew quiet, but she was still upset.

  “Remember when you and Mashael were discussing hijab and you said if a woman can’t cover properly or act like a Muslim in public, it’s better she doesn’t cover at all?”

  Reem frowned at the memory, but she nodded.

  “Like I said then,” Sayed continued, “we should never wish someone harms their soul just because we’re embarrassed by them. Islam is not a PR campaign to impress non-Muslims. And it’s a very dangerous mindset to wish bad upon your Muslim brothers and sisters just so you can make Islam look better to disbelievers.”

  ***

  “Did you find anybody for Jamil yet?”

  “Yet?” Salima repeated, smiling into the cordless phone that she held with one hand as she now stood in the kitchen, glancing around for what she could eat for breakfast.

  “Isn’t he single?” Larry said.

  “Yes…” Salima said, a question in her tone. “For now. Why do you ask?”

  “A brother is looking for someone for his daughter.”

  Salima chuckled and shook her head. “And I assume he asked you because he wanted you for her.”

  She heard Larry laugh self-consciously. “Well…”

  “And you told him…?”

  “I told him I was already talking to someone for marriage.”

  “And who would that be?” she said teasingly.

  Larry chuckled. “Come on, Salima. Don’t give a brother a hard time.”

  “So you’re thinking about marriage now?”

  “That’s all I’ve ever been thinking about.”

  Salima grinned as she reached for a box of cereal from atop the refrigerator then set it on the counter. “I mean, is it more than just thinking this time?”

  “I’m praying on it,” he said in a serious tone. “But I think I’m ready.” There was a thoughtful pause. “If you are.”

  Salima opened a cabinet and removed a glass bowl. “Then I have some praying to do myself,” she said, a smile in her voice.

  “Let me know what you think,” Larry said. “Because the ball’s pretty much in your court.”

  “Let me talk to Jamil and my parents and get back with you.”

  “I’m willing to meet them,” Larry said. “Your parents, I mean. If you want me to.”

  “Of course, I do,” Salima said. “But they prefer to be informed only after I’m sure what I want.”

  “I heard that Muslim parents micromanage their children’s marriages,” Larry said, light humor in his tone.

  Salima grunted, mirroring his humor. “Not mine,” she said. “I’m too grown for that.” She added, “And they’re too secure.”

  “So it’s not like a rule or something that the parents have to agree?” There was genuine curiosity in his tone.

  “It’s definitely preferred,” Salima said tentatively. “But previously married women have more autonomy.”

  Larry chuckled self-consciously. “So us getting married doesn’t hinge on what they say?”

  Salima grinned. “No,” she said. “But I value what they think.”

  “I can live with that,” Larry said.

  “So let me see what they say and get back to you.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Sounds fair.”

  “But who’s this mystery woman you think is good for Jamil?” she said, returning to the original subject.

  “Oh, I don’t know her,” Larry clarified. “I just know she’s eighteen, in her first year of college, and never been married before.”

  Salima felt a twinge of jealousy. “Sounds like a good catch.”

  “Nah,” Larry said. “Not for me.”

  “Why not?” Salima asked curiously, opening a drawer to get a spoon.

  “Too young,” Larry said.

  “She and you have about the same age difference as you and I,” Salima pointed out.

  “It’s not the age difference,” he said. “It’s her age.”

  “Some eighteen-year-olds are pretty mature.”

  “In theory maybe, but not in reality.”

  Salima creased her forehead as she opened the refrigerator and removed a half-gallon of milk. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not saying an eighteen-year-old isn’t mature enough for marriage,” he clarified. “I’m just saying an eighteen-year-old isn’t mature enough for me.”

  Salima raised her eyebrows as she poured her cereal and milk then returned the milk to the refrigerator. “And why not for you?”

  “I’m almost thirty years old,” he said. “What would we have in common?”

  “What do you and I have in common?” Salima asked rhetorically.

  “That’s different,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “You and I have been in previous relationships,” he said. “This girl’s probably never dated a man in her life, and she’s most likely a virgin.”

  “And that’s a problem?”

  “For me it is.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not a virgin,” he said simply. “Aren’t virgins supposed to marry virgins?”

  “You mean in Islam?”

  “Isn’t that a rule in the Qur’an or something?”

  “No,” Salima said. “Chaste people can only marry chaste people,” she said. “What’s forbidden is for someone living a life of fornication or adultery to marry someone who’s living properly.”

  “What if you sinned before becoming Muslim?”

  “Then you’ve repented insha’Allah, and so long as you’re no longer living like that, then you’re considered chaste.”

  “Oh,” Larry said, as if this was the first he’d heard of this.

  “You know, Jamil is divorced...”

  “Really?” Larry’s voice rose in surprise.

  “You didn’t know that?”

  There was extended silence. “Oh yeah…” Larry said, as if remembering just then. “I forgot about that. Probably because he doesn’t have any children.”

  Salima sat down at the kitchen table with her bowl of cereal and mumbled “Bismillaah” before bringing a spoonful of cereal to her mouth. A thought came to her after she’d eaten a few bites. “Do you want to reconsider our situation now that you know you have more options?”

  There was a long pause, and Salima sensed Larry’s confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “Now that you know it’s not haraam for you to marry a virgin.”

  Larry laughed out loud. “No thank you.”

  Salima chuckled, a question in that sound. “Why do you say that?”

  “Not interested,” Larry said. “Like I said, I don’t think they’re mature enough for me.”

  “Why not?”

  “They’re clingy, needy, and possessive, for starters,” he said.

  “Ouch,” Salima said before eating more cereal in silence.

  “I don’t mean it offensively,” he said. “It’s just that I’m ready to start a family, and I want my wife to have some life experience to pass on to our children. I don’t want to have to raise my children and my wife.”

>   “You really think it would be like that?”

  “For me, yes.”

  Salima was overcome with sadness all of a sudden, but she finished her cereal before voicing what was on her mind. “What if I can’t have any more children?” she asked quietly.

  “You mean because of your age?” Larry said.

  Salima frowned. “Yes.”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, insha’Allah.”

  “But what if it’s the bridge we’re at right now?” she asked. “What will you do?”

  There was a thoughtful pause. “I don’t know,” he said honestly.

  Salima lifted the spoon and played with it mindlessly. “Would you want to marry another wife?”

  Larry was silent for several seconds. “I don’t know.” Her heart fell at his words. “But I don’t think so,” he added.

  Salima set the spoon down, her eyebrows drawn together, perplexed. “You mean you’re willing to never have children of your own?”

  “I don’t think it matters what I’m willing to do,” Larry said. “It only matters what’s written for me. Even if you can’t have children, marrying another woman doesn’t guarantee anything,” he said. “If Allah has written I’ll have children, then I will. If He’s written I won’t, then I won’t. So what’s the point of chasing the unknown?”

  “But you’re okay with not even trying?”

  Larry chuckled. “You’re speaking as if you believe we don’t have a chance. Of course I want to try. But marriage is about more than having children. It’s about what we can offer each other in this world. Even if we’re never able to offer it to anyone else.”

  A reflective smile played at Salima’s lips. “That’s true. The husband and wife are helpmates to each other,” she said, “helping each other worship Allah and go to Paradise.”

  “And that’s what I’m looking for,” Larry said. “If Allah wants to bless us with children too, then I’m more than happy to enjoy that blessing.”

  They were both lost in thought for some time.

  “You can go ahead and tell Jamil about that sister,” Salima said finally, hoping to drop the subject of polygyny. It inspired too much discomfort. After repenting for how she’d treated Kalimah, Salima often wondered if Allah would humble her further by decreeing that she live as a co-wife herself.

  “You don’t want to tell him?”

  “No,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s back in touch with his ex-wife.” She lowered her voice in case Jamil was awake.

  “Back in touch?” Larry repeated, confused. “In what way?”

  “That’s what I don’t know,” Salima said. “But he might be considering remarrying her.”

  “Really?” Larry sounded disappointed.

  “You sound like me,” Salima said in dry humor.

  “I don’t know anything about his marriage,” Larry clarified. “But it made me think of Jazzy.”

  “Jasmine?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m so used to calling her Jazzy.”

  Salima laughed. “It’s okay,” she said. “I don’t mind.”

  “You don’t?” Larry sounded genuinely surprised.

  “Why would I mind?” she said. “If you call someone by their nickname long enough, you tend to forget their real name.”

  “Well, I’m glad you understand,” Larry said, sounding relieved.

  “I don’t know everything that happened with you and Jasmine,” Salima said after a thoughtful pause, “but Jamil’s situation is kind of complicated.”

  “Then do you think it’s a good idea to mention someone else?”

  “I think so,” Salima said, emphasizing herself. “If only to let him know he has options. But I can’t be the one to do it because it might sound disrespectful.”

  “But if he’s thinking of remarrying the woman…”

  “I think that’s exactly what he’s thinking,” Salima said. “But I can’t be sure she’s thinking the same.”

  “Are you serious?” Larry sounded concerned.

  Salima sighed then stood and left the kitchen, deciding this was a conversation that was better had in the privacy of her room. “Hold on a minute,” she said then ascended the steps to her room. She closed the door and locked it before sitting on her bed.

  “Let me put it like this,” Salima said. “I don’t like the sister. But it’s not my place to say that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because my role is to be the supportive big sister.”

  “And you can’t tell him the truth?”

  Salima drew in a deep breath and exhaled, thinking of the difficult relationship she’d had with Kalimah when Mikaeel was alive. “I wish I could, but my opinions have gotten me into trouble in the past, and I don’t want to make the same mistake. If I had something concrete to tell him, I would.” She sighed. “But the main problem I had with her, she says she’s no longer involved in.”

  Larry chuckled knowingly. “Sounds like Jasmine after I became Muslim,” he said. “Now she’s suddenly Muslim.”

  Salima frowned thoughtfully. “That’s the thing though. You don’t know what’s in someone’s heart. I don’t feel good about his ex-wife, but what is a feeling?”

  “Trust your gut,” Larry remarked. “That’s what I say.”

  “But I’m not the one interested in marrying her,” Salima said. “So my gut is irrelevant, don’t you think?”

  Larry was quiet momentarily. “I wouldn’t say it’s irrelevant…”

  “Your gut told you not to marry Jasmine,” Salima said. “But Jamil’s gut is telling him to marry this sister.”

  “He told you that?” Larry sounded doubtful.

  “No, but…”

  “Because what you want and what you know deep down are two different things,” he said.

  “But not everyone knows the difference.”

  “I think we do,” Larry said. “We just don’t want to believe we do.”

  Salima drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “I’ll have to think long and hard before I say anything to him though.”

  “Why?”

  She sighed. “Because, like I said, I don’t have a good track record with my opinions. And I have to figure out if this is really my gut saying something’s wrong, or if it’s just me saying something’s wrong.”

  There was a thoughtful pause before Larry asked, “What are your objections?”

  Salima folded her legs in front of her, trying to decide how much she should share. “Her practice of Islam mainly.”

  “She doesn’t pray?”

  “She prays,” she said tentatively. “And wears hijab,” she added.

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  Salima pursed her lips, deciding the best way to put her thoughts into words. “She’s what some would call a Muslim groupie.”

  “A groupie?” Larry said, and Salima could hear in his voice how appalled he was.

  Salima chuckled. “Not that type of groupie,” she clarified.

  “Is there another type?”

  “I mean, she feels she has to attach herself to people before she can attach herself to Allah.”

  There was a thoughtful pause. “What do you mean?”

  “You know how in Christianity, people worship Jesus to draw closer to God?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s sort of like that,” Salima said. “Some Muslims feel they need something tangible to turn to before they can worship Allah.”

  “But isn’t that shirk?” Larry sounded confused.

  “Yes, if it’s done in the literal sense,” Salima said. “But with this sister, her sect believes you have to commit to a particular sheikh and spiritual path before you can be a real Muslim.”

  There was an extended silence, and Salima sensed Larry’s confusion. “So…” he said, as if having a difficult time formulating his question. “…how is that different from Islam? I mean, isn’t Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon
him, our sheikh, and his Sunnah our spiritual path?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then…”

  “It’s hard to explain,” Salima said, “because each group is different. But in this sister’s group, they believe their sheikh has reached such a high spiritual state that’s he’s incapable of sin, and that if you draw closer to him, you draw closer to Allah.”

  Salima heard Larry laugh out loud. “You serious?”

  “Dead,” she said, no humor in her tone.

  “But how does that work?” he said, sounding genuinely confounded. “Do they have their own shahaadah and everything?”

  “Pretty much,” Salima said. “Though they don’t call it that. Some of them call it bai’ah, but some of them don’t call it anything. They just commit themselves to following their saint, then they—”

  “Their saint?” Larry interjected, humored disbelief in his tone.

  “—pretty much treat him like he’s Allah or the Prophet, sallallahu’alayhi wa sallam.”

  “Is this Muslim Catholicism or something?” he said incredulously.

  “To me it is,” she said. “But to them it’s just venerating the awliyaa’ of Allah.”

  “The what?”

  “Awliyaa’,” Salima said. “They’re the believers who are closest and most beloved to Allah. It’s a term from the Qur’an and Sunnah talking about the prophets and messengers and the believers whom Allah has singled out due to their high level of emaan and commitment to Him.”

  “Oh I think I read something about that,” Larry said. “These are the people of ihsaan, right?”

  “Yes,” she said. “But this group translates awliyaa’ as saints. But either way, Muslims aren’t permitted to claim this station for anyone other than the prophets and messengers and anyone specifically mentioned in the Qur’an and Sunnah.” She huffed. “And you certainly can’t claim it for yourself.”

  “People claim to be saints?” Larry asked in disbelief.

  “Yes, unfortunately.”

  “I thought you meant some Muslims treat their sheikhs like the Christians treat prophet Jesus, peace be upon him,” Larry said, “but the sheikhs didn’t ask them to.”

  “That happens too,” Salima said. “But the group Jamil’s ex-wife is part of, the sheikh himself says he’s a saint. And he says people are obligated to follow him.” She grunted then added, “And that you can’t follow any other sheikh along with him.”