His Other Wife

by Umm Zakiyyah

  O Allah, the Istikhaarah prayer said, if you know this situation to be bad for me with regards to my religion, my life and my welfare in the life to come, then distance it from me, and distance me from it…

  “Does the du’aa say, ‘O Allah, if you know this person to be abusive and horrible’?” Aliyah had asked rhetorically. “Then we shouldn’t be saying it to ourselves when deciding what to do.”

  ***

  Aliyah had no idea why she was so ecstatic at the prospect of seeing Mashael. It wasn’t like they had been particularly close or anything. But ever since the day Reem had said that Mashael had gone missing, there was a part of Aliyah that was genuinely worried about her. But when Jacob opened the front door, and Sheldon and Mashael stepped inside, hand-in-hand, faces beaming in the obvious signs of young love, Aliyah knew right away that she’d had no cause to worry. Mashael even looked better than when Aliyah had seen her last.

  Dressed in wide-legged pants, a knee-length open sweater, and high-heel boots, Mashael showed no signs of stress, obvious or suppressed, and she exuded an aura of confidence and sophistication.

  “You look good, mashaAllah,” Aliyah said after they exchanged salaams and Mashael and Sheldon removed their shoes.

  “You guys relax and enjoy yourselves,” Jacob said, a smile in his voice as he and Sheldon entered the living room behind Mashael. “And we’ll serve you.”

  “Ooooh,” Mashael whispered as she squeezed Aliyah’s arm playfully. “So romantic, mashaAllah.”

  “I want to help too,” Younus said, trailing behind his father into the kitchen, Thawab on his heels.

  “I guess I don’t have to ask if you’re happy,” Mashael teased as they settled on the couch next to each other.

  “Look who’s talking,” Aliyah joked back, playfully nudging her.

  Mashael grinned as she briefly turned her gaze toward the entrance to the kitchen where her husband had gone. “It’s amazing, Aliyah,” she whispered. “I still can’t believe it’s actually real.”

  Aliyah sighed, a grin on one side of her mouth. “I know what you mean…”

  “We would’ve been stupid to give up something like this just because so many people disapproved.”

  Aliyah nodded emphatically. “It scares me to think what would’ve happened if my uncle didn’t practically trick me into getting married that day,” she said, laughter in her voice.

  “That was so romantic, wallah,” Mashael said. “I was so happy for you.”

  “I wish I could’ve been there for you,” Aliyah said.

  “I know…” Mashael said, a sad but pleased smile lingering on her face. “But we really didn’t have much of a choice, you know?”

  Aliyah moved her head in the beginning of a nod then realized she had no idea what she was agreeing with. “You couldn’t have invited at least a few of us?” she said in lighthearted teasing.

  Mashael’s expression changed to one of self-conscious reflection. “No, I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “I didn’t want my family to be able to blame anyone. Arabs can be pretty hot-tempered, and they don’t forget easily,” she said. “They hold grudges for generations.”

  Aliyah chuckled. “Who would even remember anything a hundred years later?”

  “Arabs,” Mashael said, not a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

  “But no one who is alive now will even be alive then,” Aliyah said in humored disbelief.

  “But their children will be,” Mashael said. “My parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles have told us stories of our families’ problems with rival tribes that happened even before their generation,” she said. “And we’re not allowed to marry into those tribes even today.”

  “What?” Aliyah said, laughter in her voice. “You’re kidding.”

  Mashael shook her head, a solemn expression on her face. “I wish I were.”

  Unsure what to say, Aliyah was silent, a half-smile of disbelief lingering on her face.

  “Maybe now when you read the seerah of the Prophet, sallallaahu’alayhi wa sallam, you can really appreciate how remarkable his life and marriages were in his culture,” Mashael said good-naturedly. “I know I certainly can. What he did would be controversial in the Arab world even today.” She coughed laughter. “And we call ourselves modern.”

  There was an extended pause. “I bet Reem was really relieved to know you’re okay,” Aliyah said, intentionally changing the subject.

  “Reem?” Mashael said, creasing her forehead in confusion.

  “She was afraid something might have happened to you.”

  Mashael rolled her eyes knowingly. “Tab’an,” she said. “Why am I not surprised? Anything that doesn’t include the Muhammad family is a tragedy to her and my parents.”

  Aliyah furrowed her brows. “You haven’t spoken to them?”

  “No.” Mashael’s firm tone suggested that the answer should be obvious. “What do we have to talk about?”

  “At least let them know you’re okay.” Aliyah had meant it as a friendly suggestion, but she heard the reprimand in her voice.

  “They know I’m okay, Aliyah,” Mashael said in a bored tone. “They just don’t want me to think they do.”

  Aliyah drew her eyebrows together. “Why do you say that? I think they’re really worried.”

  “Aliyah, habeebti,” Mashael said, her voice sounding slightly condescending, but Aliyah could tell that Mashael didn’t mean it that way, “my family has enough resources to find out anything about anybody they want, especially their own flesh and blood. Believe me, they know I’m okay.”

  “And Reem?” Aliyah said, sounding surprised. “You think she’s pretending to be worried about you?”

  Mashael lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t know about Reem,” she said honestly. “They probably don’t say too much to her because they want her to track me down herself and guilt me back into keeping in touch.” She sucked her teeth. “Or coming back home.”

  Aliyah was silent momentarily, unsure what to think. “You don’t plan to keep in touch?”

  “I know what you’re thinking. Silatur-rahm,” Mashael said.

  “Well, keeping the ties of the womb is really important,” Aliyah said, a tinge of defense in her voice.

  Mashael offered Aliyah a weak smile. “Why don’t you let me worry about that?” she said. “I’m not trying to cut ties with my family. I just need some time to myself for a while. I know some shuyookh would say even that’s haraam.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “But they’re not living my life. I am.”

  Aliyah nodded. “I’m sorry. I just—”

  “It’s okay,” Mashael said with a wave of her hand. “I’m just tired of everyone saying Allah will put me in Hellfire if I don’t do every single thing my parents want.” She shook her head. “I know most Muslims believe that. But I don’t.”

  “Probably because of the high status of parents in Islam,” Aliyah suggested.

  “Maybe,” Mashael said noncommittally. “But I think everyone has a high status in Islam. Parents don’t just get free reign to stomp all over you for the rest of your life. I have the right to make some decisions on my own.”

  “That’s true…”

  “You have no idea how it feels to have someone try to control everything in your life,” Mashael said, frustration in her tone. “I feel like I can’t even breathe when I’m around them.”

  Hearing Mashael’s complaints, Aliyah thought of her own family and saw her circumstance from a different perspective. Perhaps it was a hidden blessing that her parents had cut her off. She couldn’t imagine how her life would be if they had tried to keep her close. She would probably be forced to do just what Mashael had done.

  ***

  Helping others is one of the most therapeutic things you can do, the self-help book had said. But start slow. You don’t want to overwhelm yourself if being around people is painful for you. If you suffered abuse, neglect, or abandonment in childhood from someone you trusted, you’ll likely have a har
d time giving of yourself to others. You’ll probably work to sabotage friendships and romantic relationships before they become too close, or you might avoid personal interactions altogether so that the opportunity never presents itself. Either way, this tendency can make your desire to help others an arduous task, especially if the person is a friend or loved one from a relationship you sabotaged in the past.

  Deanna lifted the bolt of teal polyester satin fabric and fought the surge of resentment as she placed it in the shopping cart next to the bolt of black fabric late Sunday morning. She wheeled the cart to the cutting table and waited for someone to come help her.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Aliyah had said during the night Deanna stayed at her apartment and Deanna had mentioned that Matt didn’t treat her like he should have. “But I honestly don’t think it was his fault. I can’t imagine how hard that was for him being married to me when he really wanted to be with someone else.”

  Perhaps Aliyah hadn’t intended the comment to insult Jacob’s marriage to Deanna, but Deanna had heard the accusation in Aliyah’s words. But she reminded herself of what she’d read. Everything isn’t about you.

  “May I help you?” a fabric store worker said as he approached the cutting table.

  ***

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Aliyah sucked in her breath and brought a hand to her mouth in surprise. “Are you serious?” she said.

  Grinning, Mashael nodded, clearly proud of herself. “That’s why I came today. I had to tell somebody.”

  Aliyah thought of Reem and her family not knowing about a grandchild or niece or nephew about to come into the world, and it made her sad. But she kept her thoughts to herself. Like Mashael had said, the people with all the opinions about her life weren’t the ones who had to live it.

  A smile creased the sides of Aliyah’s mouth. “Will you come to our waleemah?”

  “Tab’an!” Mashael said. “I wouldn’t miss it, insha’Allah. When is it?”

  “In two weeks insha’Allah, at the masjid,” Aliyah said. “I can text you the de—” The ringing of the doorbell interrupted her midsentence, and she immediately stood and creased her forehead as she walked toward the door.

  “Are we expecting anyone?” Aliyah called out to Jacob as she passed the kitchen.

  “Yes,” he replied. “That’s probably Larry.”

  When Aliyah opened the door, she saw Salima and Haroon standing opposite her. “As-salamu’alikum,” Salima greeted as she and her son stepped inside. “Larry said we could meet him here. I hope it’s okay.”

  “Yes, of course,” Aliyah said, a confused smile on her face. “But I thought…”

  “I know, I know,” Salima said, waving her hand in embarrassment as she kneeled to take off Haroon’s coat and boots. “I’ll explain later insha’Allah.”

  “Well, I’m happy for the both of you,” Aliyah beamed as she took Haroon’s coat and hung it on the cast iron coat tree in the foyer. “I was really upset when you said you cut it off.”

  “I think you should save your congratulations then,” Salima said as she unbuttoned her coat. “Today would be the first time we talked since everything fell apart.”

  “Really?” Aliyah said, helping Salima take off her coat then turning to hang it next to Haroon’s.

  “I texted him after Fajr to ask if we could talk, and I didn’t hear back from him until about an hour ago,” Salima said, disappointment in her voice. She kneeled to pull off her boots and aligned them next to her son’s before standing and facing Aliyah again. “And all he said was that Jacob said it’s fine for us to meet here.” She gave Aliyah a tightlipped smile as she lifted her arms from her side then let them fall back down. “So here I am.”

  “Well, you’re looking fly, mashaAllah,” Aliyah teased as she gave Salima an approving once-over.

  Salima smiled self-consciously as she placed the flat of her hand on her black pullover cashmere sweater with a large turtleneck and glanced down at her braided khaki wool skirt. “Thanks, mashaAllah.”

  “Where’d you get that black and khaki blend head wrap?” Aliyah said, admiring the way Salima had wrapped the cloth in a low turban style in the front and a cloth bun at the back.

  “One of my Qur’an teachers bought it in Dubai and gave it to me as a gift,” Salima said, lifting a palm to touch it gently. “It’s actually really old, but you’d never—”

  “Is that Salima, wallah?”

  Salima stopped midsentence, apparently confused by the strange voice. But when she saw Mashael coming toward her with her arms outstretched for a hug, Salima grinned wide. “Mashael? What are you doing here?”

  Mashael giggled as she drew Salima into a hug. “I’m pregnant and I couldn’t keep the good news to myself.”

  “MashaAllah!” Salima exclaimed in excitement. “May Allah bless it to be an easy pregnancy and delivery, and may He give your child good health and strong emaan until they meet Him.”

  “Ameen, yaa Rabb!” Mashael said as they released each other.

  “Is Reem here too?” Salima asked in anticipation.

  Mashael gave Salima a playful pout. “No… Sorry. I’m only sharing the good news with my real family.”

  Salima chuckled and shook her head as they followed Aliyah to the couch. “Girl, you’re a trip. You better call your real family and tell them the good news, too.”

  “I will, insha’Allah,” Mashael said, and Aliyah sensed that Mashael wasn’t comfortable opening up to Salima just yet.

  The doorbell rang again just as the three of them settled on the couch. “I’ll get that,” Aliyah said, getting up immediately. “It’s probably Larry.”

  “No,” Salima said, standing up and placing a hand on Aliyah’s arm to stop her. “Let me.”

  Cheeks going warm with embarrassment, Aliyah sat back down, realizing how awkward her enthusiasm must have sounded. She was sure that Salima knew the enthusiasm was connected to her excitement for Salima, but Aliyah sensed she should have known that she was the last person who should open the door at a time like this.

  ***

  “You know, I had a bad feeling about the whole parent thing,” Larry said from where he leaned against a wall opposite Salima in the hallway leading to Jacob’s office. It was the only place that they could talk outside of earshot of the other guests without being completely alone.

  Salima nodded humbly. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice subdued and her gaze lowered. “I guess I never saw that side of them before.”

  “Then there’s a lot you don’t know about them,” he said, a reflective smirk creasing one side of his mouth.

  Eyebrows drawn together, she looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

  “No parents are completely hands-off, Salima. At least not ones who care.”

  He huffed and shook his head. “But I partly blame myself,” he said.

  “Why?” Salima said, pulling her head back in surprise.

  “Because my gut told me that I should go to your parents myself,” he said. “Alone.” He shook his head again, clearly upset with himself. “But I called myself being respectful and trusting your judgment. After all, they’re your parents.” There was a tinge of sarcasm in his tone. “But something kept telling me, ‘Larry, you know how narcissistic parents can be, especially when it comes to their daughters. They always think the worst of anyone they didn’t pick out themselves.’”

  Salima coughed laughter. “You know, Jamil said something similar,” she reflected. “He said, ‘They have the problem that all good parents have. They don’t see their children’s scars or baggage. They only see everyone else’s.’”

  There was an awkward pause, and Salima sensed that she’d said something wrong.

  Larry grunted in disinterest. “Well, at least he’s got that much right.”

  The sarcastic tone of Larry’s voice made Salima wary, and she wondered if he’d found out about Jasmine’s trip to her parents, and Jamil’s involvement. “Why do you say it like that?” she
said, careful to keep her tone neutral.

  “You tell me,” Larry shot back, his eyes fiery in accusation and hurt. “You’re the one with all the secrets.”

  Salima winced at the harshness of his tone. “Did Jacob tell you about—”

  “About what?” His voice rose challengingly. “Jasmine’s little trip to your parents? Or Jamil backstabbing me?” He huffed and pushed himself off the wall as he shook his head in disbelief. “Or maybe there’s something about you that Jacob might have told me?” he said, bitter sarcasm in his tone. “You know, since I’m in the dark about so much.”

  Larry contorted his face as if a thought had come to him suddenly. “And what did you want to talk to me about anyway?” His eyes were narrowed as he regarded her. “Why’d you suddenly feel the need to talk to me today?”

  Cheeks aflame in embarrassment, Salima looked away and folded her arms. There was so much she wanted to say to Larry, but she had no idea where to begin, or even how to put her thoughts into words. She feared everything would come out wrong.

  The past couple of weeks had been tortuous for Salima, and not only because she hadn’t spoken to Larry and was deeply conflicted about the judiciousness of marrying him. This time period also represented a turning point in her relationship with her parents, and she didn’t know how to make sense of it. She’d never disagreed with her parents on anything significant, at least not on anything that could affect her interactions with them in any significant way. But now she was beginning to see her parents in a different light, in a more conflicted light. But she had trouble letting go of her blind trust of them. Before this experience, she hadn’t even realized she trusted them blindly at all.

  Yet the argument with Jamil the day before uncovered wounds that she didn’t even know were there. How was it that she had known her younger brother since he was a baby yet had never seen him until now? Maybe Jamil was right. Maybe she and her parents viewed the world through such a narrow lens that they couldn’t process any differing outlook except that they felt compelled to view it with judgment and condescension. Salima had no idea who her own family was, she’d misjudged them so poorly.