by Umm Zakiyyah
***
Larry smiled into the full-length mirror affixed to the open door of the master bathroom of his home. “Well, what can I say?” he said, raising his voice as he smoothed down the lapels of his suit jacket with the flat of his hands. “I see you too.”
He heard Salima’s laughter from his mobile phone that lay on the counter near the sink. “But I didn’t appreciate that, just so you know,” her resonant tone crackled slightly through the speakerphone.
“I know you didn’t,” he said, humor in his tone. “But I didn’t do it to earn brownie points. I really wasn’t sure I liked you.”
“Well…” Salima said, her tone sounding reflective. “I can’t blame you for that.”
“Oh, now don’t get all self-flagellating on me,” he teased. “You know my opinion of you wouldn’t change how special you are.”
“But it would change how special I feel.”
“Then let’s get married tonight,” Larry said jokingly. “I’m sure that’ll make you feel special again.”
Salima laughed. “That would make for an interesting scandal,” she said. “Qur’an teacher disappears with rumored womanizer. Last seen at her student’s waleemah.”
“Aw, come on,” Larry said, picking up the mobile phone and carrying it away from his face as he walked into his room. “Why I got to be a womanizer?”
“I said rumored.”
“And that makes it better?” he joked.
There was a thoughtful pause. “You sure your brother is up for this road trip next weekend?” Salima said, doubt in her voice as she changed the subject. “It feels like we’re taking him away from his honeymoon.”
Larry coughed laughter. “Honeymoon? With Aliyah eight weeks pregnant, I’d say they’ve already had their honeymoon.”
“Aliyah’s pregnant?”
Larry pinched his eyes closed and smacked a hand against his forehead in self-rebuke. “You didn’t hear that,” he said quickly.
“Aliyah’s pregnant?” Salima said again, her voice rising in surprised disbelief. “But she didn’t say anything about it.”
“Like I said,” Larry replied, speaking slowly as if coaching Salima, “you didn’t hear it from me.”
“Jacob told you?”
“Uh…” he said, humor in his tone. “Aliyah certainly didn’t.”
He heard Salima chuckle, as if laughing at herself. “I know. I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just…surprised.”
“Why?” Larry said. “They’re married.”
“I know. It’s just…” The speakerphone was silent for a few seconds. “Aliyah was really excited about finishing her doctorate and having her job pay for it and everything.”
“Oh.” Larry frowned thoughtfully. “Then maybe she can still do that,” he said. “She has seven months before she has to worry about anything, right?”
Salima coughed laughter. “It’s not that simple.”
“I didn’t say it was,” Larry said. “I’m saying if she really wants to, she still can, and she has seven months lead time to worry about a baby.”
“Okay, Larry,” Salima said, laughter in her voice. “Whatever you say.”
“But the subject only came up because Jacob was saying Aliyah might not be up for the drive,” Larry said. “And we might have to bring the children along if she’s not feeling well.” He grunted. “And I figured you weren’t up for asking Jamil.”
“Not a chance,” Salima said, her voice clipped. “I’m not even sure I’ll let him know I’m going.”
“You serious?” Larry said, chuckling. “You two have one little spat and all bets are off?”
“I don’t consider it a little spat,” Salima said, defensiveness in her tone. “Anyway, I’ll still let him watch Haroon when I stay late at work.”
“Let him?” Larry said, humored. “You say it like you’re doing him a favor. He doesn’t have to watch your son, you know.”
“I know that,” Salima said, voice tight. “But Haroon is his nephew.”
“And your responsibility.”
“I know,” she muttered, seeming to let go of her offense a bit. “It’s just hard to look at him the same.”
“Why? Because he has his own mind?”
“Look who’s talking. You’re the one accusing him of stabbing you in the back.”
“But he’s not my brother,” Larry said. “So I can think what I want.” He shrugged. “At least until we’re married.”
“And he’ll suddenly become an angel because you’re married to me?”
“No. But he’ll suddenly become family.”
“And?”
“And I owe him mad respect for that.”
Salima huffed. “Respect for what? Being born?”
“Look, Salima,” Larry said, slight exhaustion in his voice. “I’m not going to lie. I’m not a big fan of Jamil right now. But he’s a grown man, and Jasmine’s a grown woman, so they can do whatever they want. He and Jasmine weren’t in a relationship while I was with her, so I can’t really say he stabbed me in the back.” Larry grunted. “But I definitely don’t appreciate him helping her jeopardize my chances with you.”
“I think that was more about me than you,” Salima said. “I think it was his way of letting me know he has opinions about my life just like I have opinions about his.”
Larry set his mobile phone on the dresser then pulled open a drawer. “So he really joined that groupie thing you were telling me about?”
He heard Salima sigh through the speakerphone. “I don’t know… We’re not exactly on speaking terms right about now.”
“It’ll pass, insha’Allah,” Larry said as he pulled out a neatly rolled pair of dark socks then closed the drawer. “Families go through stuff like this all the time.”
“Not mine. This is new for us,” Salima said, a tinge of sadness in her voice.
Larry chuckled, picking up the phone, the pair of socks in his other hand. “It was new for every family when it happened the first time,” he said as he walked over to his bed and sat down on the edge. “Like I said, families go through stuff like this all the time. No one starts off knowing how to handle these sorts of problems. But no one escapes them.”
“That’s depressing,” Salima said. “You’d hope some families stick together, no matter what.”
“Salima, Salima, Salima.” There was laughter in Larry’s voice as he repeated her name and set the phone next to him then unrolled his socks. “There’s so much you have to learn and so little time,” he teased as he set down a sock then pulled on another, then picked up the other and put it on. “Sticking together doesn’t mean you agree on everything,” he said. “It means you’re there for each other even when you hate each other’s guts.”
“I don’t hate Jamil,” Salima said tentatively, thoughtful reflection in her tone. “I just…don’t understand him.”
“And you don’t have to,” Larry said. “You think Jacob and I understand each other all the time? Or even our parents?”
“You all seem fine to me.”
He coughed laughter. “Everybody seems fine, Salima.”
There was an awkward pause before Larry heard Salima burst out laughing. An uncertain grin creased a corner of Larry’s mouth. “Did I say something funny?”
“I’m sorry,” Salima said in an apparent effort to gather her composure. “I just had a déjà vu moment.”
Larry drew his eyebrows together. “About…”
“About me and Mikaeel.”
At the mention of her late husband, Larry grew quiet. It made no sense to be jealous of a dead man, so he tried his best to remain levelheaded. “Really?” He hoped his voice sounded as genuinely curious as he intended.
“Yes.” The carefree laughter in her voice quelled Larry’s concerns, as she apparently hadn’t picked up on his discomfort. “I used to always say somebody seemed nice.” She spoke as if enjoying the memory. “And Mikaeel would say, ‘Everybody seems nice, Salima. Come up with a better line.’”
“I probably would’ve said Aliyah’s family seems nice if I didn’t know any better.”
He creased his forehead. “What’s wrong with Aliyah’s family?”
“What’s right with it is a simpler question.”
Larry felt uncomfortable with this shift in conversation. “You sure we’re not breaking a friend code or something discussing her family like this?”
Salima was quiet momentarily. “I hope not,” she said, a tinge of self-doubt in her tone. “She and I joke about swapping families all the time. Me so I can live my life without worrying about anyone’s opinion, and her so she can know how it feels to have Muslim family besides her uncle.”
“Isn’t one of her brothers-in-law about to become Muslim?” Larry said. “I met him at Brother Benjamin’s house.”
“You mean Joseph?” Salima said, disapproval in her voice. “Cassie’s husband?”
“Yes. Joseph,” Larry said, remembering just then. “He went through a lot of trouble to meet his Muslim family. He and Jacob have been keeping in touch, I believe.”
Salima huffed. “Not anymore, most likely.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Last I heard, Joseph isn’t interested in Islam anymore,” Salima said.
“Really?”
“And apparently, he doesn’t want anything to do with Aliyah, Jacob, or Benjamin,” Salima said. “He even changed his cell number and everything.”
The news disappointed Larry deeply. In some ways, Joseph had reminded Larry of himself before he became Muslim. He’d sensed Joseph’s spiritual turmoil and keenness to find the truth despite the odds against him. “I’m sorry to hear that,” Larry said sincerely, voice subdued.
“Aliyah thinks her mother might have threatened to take his job,” Salima said, sadness in her tone. “And between that and Cassie threatening to divorce him, he probably felt he had no choice.”
Larry’s lips formed a thin line as he frowned thoughtfully. “That’s a tough position to be in.”
“I know…”
“This whole business of changing religions can be scary,” Larry said, lost in thought. “No one wants to think everything they believed about life and God is wrong.”
Salima was quiet for several seconds. “Maybe that’s what Jamil is going through.”
Larry drew his eyebrows together as he stood and walked out the room, carrying the phone inches from his face. “I thought you were both raised Muslim.”
“We were. I just think Jamil thinks everything he learned from our parents is wrong.”
“You think he’s doubting Islam?” Larry’s voice rose in concern as he walked down the hall and entered the living room.
“No, nothing like that,” Salima said. “I just think he feels more comfortable with something specific he can hold on to.”
Larry pulled his head back in surprise. “Other than Islam?”
“No,” Salima said. “Other than our parents’ generic, non-specific version of Islam.”
“I thought we weren’t supposed to have versions of Islam,” Larry said.
“Well, that’s what my parents and I believe,” Salima said thoughtfully. “To us, there are only two goals when it comes to Islam. Follow truth, and avoid falsehood.”
“Sounds about right to me.”
“But it’s easier said than done.”
“What isn’t?” Larry said as he set the phone on a table near the foyer next to his wallet and keys.
“I agree,” Salima said. “But I think he feels it can be easier than we make it out to be.”
“We as in you and your parents?” Larry said as he kneeled to put on his designer work boots.
“Yes.”
He shrugged as he pulled on the laces of his boots and tied them. “Maybe it is.”
“That’s possible…” Salima said tentatively. “But to me, his solution is way more complicated than ours.”
“What’s his solution?” Larry said as he stood and opened the front closet.
“Commit to a single spiritual teacher and blindly follow him for the rest of your life.”
Larry sucked in his breath in disapproval and concern as he removed his trench coat from a hanger.
“My thoughts exactly,” Salima voice’s crackled from the speakerphone. “I keep asking him, ‘With so many different teachers and scholars out there, how can you settle on a single one?’”
“What does he say to that?” Larry said as he shrugged on his coat.
“He asks me the same thing,” Salima said, defeat in her tone. “Except he says, ‘How can you not settle on a single one?’”
Larry chuckled. “He has a point there,” he said. “Leave it to the lawyer.”
“But everyone has a point,” Salima said. “My question is, where is yours pointing you to? I just don’t see the safety in shutting your eyes to every source of religious knowledge out there except one random teacher,” she said. “And then you don’t even know whether or not your teacher will end up in Paradise?” She grunted. “No thank you.”
Larry picked up the phone and took it off speakerphone then put it to his ear. “Can I play devil’s advocate for a second?”
“As long as you don’t mean it literally,” Salima joked.
Larry chuckled as he lifted his wallet and put it in the pocket of his coat. “Isn’t it sort of helter-skelter to distrust everybody, then learn from nobody?”
“I didn’t say we should distrust everybody,” Salima said, “and I didn’t say we should learn from nobody. I’m saying it’s impossible that the truth of Islam rests with a single person.”
“Except the Prophet, peace be upon him,” Larry added as he slid his keys off the table and walked to the front door and opened it.
“Well, with the Prophet, sallallaahu’alayhi wa sallam,” Salima said, “that’s a given.”
“But he’s no longer with us,” Larry said as he stepped outside then pulled the front door closed. “So what do we do now?” he said as he turned the key in the lock, holding his phone between his shoulder and ear.
“Don’t forget your du’aa,” Salima said.
“What?” Larry said, thrown off by her words.
“The du’aa for exiting the house,” she said.
“Oh…” Larry mentally scrambled for the words, the cold air stinging his face as he walked toward his car.
“Bismillaah,” Salima said, reciting the du’aa. “Tawakkaltu ‘alallah, wa laa hawla wa laa quwwata illaa billaah.”
“…illa billaah,” he repeated, stumbling over the words slightly.
There was a thoughtful pause. “But to answer your question,” Salima said. “You make every day a time for study, du’aa, and tawakkul.”
“You can’t do that with a single teacher?” Larry said, ducking his chin to protect his face from the cold.
“You can do it with a single teacher, or a zillion teachers,” Salima said simply. “How many teachers you have is irrelevant,” she explained. “The point is, every day your focus should be on carefully assessing whether or not you are living a life pleasing to Allah and in line with the teachings of the Prophet, sallallaahu’alayhi wa sallam.”
“And can’t a teacher help you do that?” Larry said as he pointed his keychain remote toward his car and unlocked it.
“Of course. You’re certainly not going to be able to do it on your own,” Salima said. “That’s why I say every day is a time for study,” she said, emphasizing the last word. “But studying with humans is useless if you’re not establishing a personal relationship with Allah separate from them.”
In the car, Larry pulled the phone away from his face and pressed the speakerphone icon then set the phone in the compartment next to him. “Makes sense to me,” he said as he put the key in the ignition and turned on the car. “But I have a hard time believing Jamil would disagree with you on that.”
He hear
d Salima sigh. “My question to him is, what’s so wrong with double checking what you’re learning?” she said. “Why can’t you talk to someone else to get another point of view, then pray Istikhaarah if you get confused?”
“What was his response?”
“If you commit to a single spiritual teacher, you won’t get confused,” Salima said, monotone.
“Okay,” Larry said, laughter in his voice as he connected the wire of his earphones to his mobile then pushed an earbud into one ear. “I give up. I have no more comforting words for you. Your brother has officially lost his mind.”
Salima laughed. “Thanks,” she said. “You’re no help.”
“I’m sorry, Salima,” Larry said, chuckling. “That’s some far out sh, stuff,” he quickly corrected himself. “You sure he graduated from law school? Because I can find a million holes in that logic.”
“He graduated from law school, all right,” she said, sadness in her words. “One of the top in his class. But I feel like people caught up in these groups pack away their brains when it comes to religion.”
Larry coughed, humor in that sound. “Man,” he said, returning to the topic of Jamil’s argument, “that’s like saying you’ll never feel lost as long as you keep your eyes closed during the entire journey.”
“Exactly,” Salima said. “And then when the train stops, you just hope you’re getting off at the right place.”
“I tell you what,” Larry said, glancing in the rearview mirror as he eased the car out of the parking space. “If I’m getting off at the wrong stop, it’s going to be because I fought like hell to get off at the right one,” he said with conviction, “not because I trusted some random person with a fancy name and title to get me where I needed while I slept the whole way.”
“Muslimah used to say a spiritual teacher is never random,” Salima said. “He’s specifically chosen by Allah to guide you.”
“So what do they say about all these different spiritual teachers teaching completely opposing and contradictory ideas?”
“That’s exactly what I would ask her.”
Larry smirked as he glanced down to shift the car from reverse to drive. “I think I’m afraid to ask what her answer was.”
