by Umm Zakiyyah
“Why?”
“Because I was scared I’d lose you.”
Tamika shut her eyes momentarily and rested her hand on his opposite cheek, the coarse hair of his beard tickling her fingers as she pulled his face closer to hers. “I never knew you even knew my name.”
“I knew your name long before that. And I wanted to marry you then.”
“You’re lying.” Her eyes accused him playfully.
“When I saw you for the first time, SubhaanAllaah, I never knew a women could be so beautiful.”
“I wasn’t even Muslim then,” she said with a smile.
“You were still beautiful.”
“Were you really scared?”
“Of course I was. That’s why I told Imam Abdul-Quddus not to tell you who you were meeting. I thought maybe you wanted to marry Omar.”
Tamika laughed and shook her head. “I didn’t. But I had convinced myself that I should. Because I thought I’d never be able to marry you.” She released his face, and they turned to face each other.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done had you not argued with Aminah about letting me marry Aidah.”
She lowered her gaze and shook her head, but she was still smiling. “I hate myself for doing that.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“It wasn’t Aminah’s fault. I should’ve called you to apologize for getting upset instead of letting the rest of the year pass. It only made sense for you to reconsider Aidah. I’d cut off everything between us.”
They walked over to the bed and sat next to each other, and Sulayman took her hand. “You don’t know how bad I felt for going to Milwaukee without telling you.”
Tamika shook her head, toying with the lipstick case in her free hand. “And I can’t believe how upset I was at you for going. I felt like a fool when my aunt said you were right for coming.”
“No, I wasn’t right. Allah was just merciful.”
“You were right. It even made Aunt Jackie question her faith. She didn’t know anything about Islam before you talked to them.
“Did I tell you about the dream my mom had in the hospital?”
Sulayman nodded. “She called me your husband.”
“SubhaanAllaah. When I was reciting Qur’an next to her, she thought it was the most beautiful song she ever heard.”
He shook his head. “SubhaanAllaah.”
“And she wasn’t even awake.”
“May Allah guide her.”
“Ameen.”
Sarah glanced at her watch as she took a sip from the party glass filled with sparkling apple juice that the hostesses were refilling at the tables. Tamika and Sulayman should be arriving any minute. Sarah had made sure everything was in place. Nusaybah was waiting in the dressing room connected to the women’s section of the banquet facility. Nusaybah had already done Tamika’s hair and make up that morning, but she would touch up Tamika before the guest of honor took her seat at the main table that was on a raised platform at the front of the hall. The dressing room was connected to the hall by a door that opened to the platform steps so that Tamika could emerge to her place without using the main doors at the back. A microphone was set up in front of the platform, and Khadijah, who would sing a song, sat at her table in the front on the far right of the platform.
Sarah resisted checking with Nusaybah to see if Tamika had arrived. She had just checked ten minutes ago. To pass time, Sarah had introduced herself to Tamika’s family and chatted with them at their table that was next to her family’s. Tamika’s aunt and mother were nice enough, but Sarah couldn’t relax in their presence. She was unable to shake the feeling that she was being judged. Sarah had no idea how much they knew about her, but she thought she sensed their surprise upon seeing her. Whether it was that she was White or that she was actually normal and Muslim at the same time, she had no idea. Often it was a mixture of both with people. If the person had known Ismael before meeting her, they always seemed a bit taken aback by her race. In the beginning, she would request that Ismael let them know beforehand that his wife wasn’t Black too. But he refused, perhaps because he was offended that she assumed his friends’ wives would be so superficial. Where they lived, and elsewhere for that matter, most of the Muslims who were indigenous Americans were Black, Ismael would remind her. So their shock, if related to her race at all, had more to do with meeting a White Muslim than the fact that he had married one.
“Sister Sarah?”
Sarah turned from where she was sitting and met the eyes of a strikingly beautiful woman whose face was vaguely familiar to her. Sarah smiled and creased her forehead as she searched the features to recall who the woman was. It wasn’t uncommon for it to take a moment to recognize a close friend at formal parties. Most Muslim women covered in Islamic garb outside their home, so it was normal to never see more than the face and hands of even friends unless they had the opportunity to visit while the husband wasn’t there, or at least in a part of the house where men wouldn’t pass.
Sarah shook her head, apologizing with her eyes and smile. Because the woman had prefaced Sarah’s name with Sister, Sarah imagined she could be a friend of Tamika’s or Aminah’s. Sarah’s peers generally referred to her by her first name.
“Alika Mitchell.”
“Ah!” Laughing in recognition, Sarah stood and embraced her. Alika had recited the shahaadah at the masjid recently. Seeing the new Muslim’s eyes fill with tears that day as she recited the testimony of faith to enter Islam made tears well in her own, reminding Sarah of her own conversion. Eyes still wet with tears, Sarah had embraced her new sister in Islam and introduced herself. They exchanged numbers, but Sarah had been so busy with the walimah preparations that she hadn’t found the opportunity to call. She was glad Aminah or Tamika had thought to give Alika an invitation because Sarah certainly hadn’t remembered. “As-salaamu’alaikum.”
“Wa’alaiku-mus-salaam.”
“From Nigeria, right?”
Alika smiled. “My grandmother is. But the rest of my family’s American.”
Sarah nodded. “I remember you telling me that.” She shook her head, still smiling. “How long has it been?”
Alika narrowed her eyes as she tried to recall. “It’ll be four months in a week.”
“MashaAllaah. How has it been?”
Alika’s smile grew broad, revealing a perfect set of white teeth, accented by deep burgundy lipstick. She lifted her bare shoulders and held them in that position momentarily, unsure what to say. Two thin burgundy spaghetti straps revealed smooth antique bronze skin, accented by the 22-karat gold necklace that dipped just below her throat. Matching cone-shaped earrings dangled from her ears, and Sarah could only stare. Alika’s eyes were luminous ebony and emanated kindness and profundity. Her hair was a mass of tight curls ducking and reaching until their thickness stood as a soft and beautiful Afro that exuded a self-pride softened only by the delicate features of her face. Sarah could hardly believe this was the same young woman whom she’d met after Jumu’ah months before.
“Mm, okay.”
“You feel overwhelmed?” Sarah said jokingly, pulling out a chair in an invitation for the woman to take a seat.
Sitting down, Alika nodded. “A little.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been much help,” Sarah said as she sat back down. “I’ve been so distracted.”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“You meet a lot of people?”
“Not really. But Nusaybah has been helping me a lot.”
“Oh, mashaAllaah, you met.”
Alika nodded. “I stayed with her for a couple of weeks to—”
“Is everything okay?” Sarah’s forehead creased in concern.
Alika laughed and waved a hand. “Yes, everything’s fine. I was just staying with her to learn the prayers.”
“Oh, mashaAllaah.”
“I’ve been really busy, but I didn’t want to procrastinate too much. I felt bad just going through the motions.” She laughed. “
Literally.”
“You’re in school?”
She nodded. “Doing my master’s.”
“Your masters? You look so young.”
“I’m twenty seven.”
Sarah raised her eyebrows and shook her head. “You could pass for nineteen.”
Alika smiled and nodded, apparently accustomed to the comment. “This is actually my second master’s.”
“Really?”
“I did my first in education. Now I’m doing multicultural studies.”
“Sounds interesting. What did you study for undergrad?”
“History.”
“Think you might go for your doctorate?”
Alika’s eyes widened playfully, but before she could respond a hushed silence filled the room, and Sarah and Alika turned to see Tamika taking her seat before the crowd. On cue, Khadijah began to sing, and the guests sat speechless, entranced both by Khadijah’s voice and Tamika’s astonishing appearance. The lights dimmed until only Tamika and Khadijah could be seen. Tamika smiled nervously, unsure what to do with the spotlight on her. Someone caught Tamika’s eye and she waved her hand for them to sit next to her, apparently for moral support. A moment later Aminah and Zahra took seats on either side of Tamika, and Tamika seemed to relax.
After the song, Aminah and Zahra said something to Tamika and left the podium. A minute later, they accompanied Tamika’s aunt and mother to the seats, which in Sarah’s estimation was a good call. Tamika’s aunt and mother beamed with pride that revealed itself through their dignified smiles, controlled only by their lips pressed together to stifle the grins that sought release.
Sarah saw Kate whiz by, giving instructions to each of the hostesses, who nodded and disappeared into the kitchen then emerged with plates to serve the guests. Sarah smiled. Her sister was definitely one to take charge. Although she felt indebted to Kate for all her help, Sarah doubted Kate would have been able to sit still as a mere guest. For one, it wasn’t her personality. And she was definitely out of her element. Surrounded by only women, Kate didn’t know how to behave in a formal dress. She was used to dancing and meeting prospects. Today she would have to settle for just being Kate, the aunt. It made Sarah stifle a laugh at the thought.
When Kate appeared breathless at her side a minute later, Sarah was startled, having not seen her sister next to her until she heard her sigh. “God, I’m beat.” Kate took a sip of the untouched apple juice at the place next to Sarah.
“I’m Alika.”
“Kate.” They shook hands, reaching over the space in front of Sarah.
“I’m sorry.” Sarah shook her head, apologizing for not introducing them. “This is my sister.”
“How long have you been Muslim?” Alika said.
Kate laughed. “Me? I haven’t converted yet.”
Sarah caught the word yet and grinned at her sister, but apparently Kate didn’t realize what she had said, at least not the implications of it.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought—”
“It’s okay.” Kate waved her hand. “I’ve given many wrong impressions in my life. Trust me, I’m flattered by that one.”
Sarah laughed to herself, understanding the hidden truth behind what Kate had left unsaid.
“What about you?” Kate asked.
“Four months.”
“Wow. You’re brave.”
Alika laughed. “No, I’m scared to death actually. That’s why I became Muslim.”
“Interesting way of putting it,” Kate said with a shrug, her eyes tracing the ballroom momentarily. “But I know what you mean.”
Sarah stared at her sister. “I would’ve never guessed.”
“Everybody’s scared,” Kate said to her sister with a forced smile. “Even me.” She tapped a neatly polished nail against her glass then turned her attention back to Alika. “Your family doesn’t mind?”
Alika smiled and drew in a deep breath before exhaling. “They don’t know yet.”
“How do you manage to hide it from them?”
“My parents live in Maryland.”
“You’re on your own?” Kate sounded surprised.
“She’s twenty seven,” Sarah said.
“Wow. I’d have sworn you were in high school.”
Alika laughed.
“You married?” Kate asked.
Alika shook her head.
“Join the club.”
Sarah thought of the Syrian man Kate had wanted to marry, and she wondered what had become of him.
“But I’m working on it,” Kate said.
Alika smiled.
“You?”
She shook her head, a pleasant smile still on her face. “I’m still getting used to the whole settle-down thing.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place. Muslims have an easier time getting married it seems. At least that’s what Sarah tells me.”
Sarah stared at her sister on the verge of laughter. “I never said anything like that.”
“Maybe not. But I can see it all the same.”
She shook her head at Kate.
“Maybe it’s because they double up.”
Alika seemed taken aback by the comment, but she held her smile. “Double up?”
Sarah’s cheeks grew warm, and she tried to think of a way to quiet her sister. Kate had no idea that polygamy wasn’t the best topic of discussion for a new Muslim. Most likely, Alika had read about it, but for the most part, it remained a matter of theoretical acceptance for most American Muslims. Including Sarah.
“Polygamy.”
Alika blinked, a chuckle of uncertainty escaping with that motion, apparently finding Kate more amusing than her topic of conversation.
“It’s not that common,” Sarah said quickly, her voice on the edge of laughter that she hoped undermined, if not ridiculed, Kate’s statement.
“More common than where I’m from.”
Alika only nodded, unsure how to take Kate.
“Should be made legal if you ask me,” Kate said with a laugh and Sarah cringed. Ever since Kate had met the Syrian who worked with her at the television station, Kate imagined she wouldn’t mind polygamy after all, if it meant she could be with him. It had been a disappointment for Sarah’s sister to find out he was married because Kate swore he was the one for her. Of course, Kate didn’t know he was Muslim until he told her some time after they were working on an assignment together.
“What do you think?” Kate said, taking another sip of juice.
Alika smiled, but she shrugged, revealing a discomfort that, evidently, only Sarah was aware of. “If God allows it, then I suppose it only makes sense to make it legal.”
“You American?”
“Yes.” She seemed to hesitate, unsure of the relevance the question held. “But my grandmother’s from Nigeria.”
“So you know what I mean.”
Alika nodded slowly. “It’s common there,” she said with reluctance, growing more uncomfortable with the discussion. She glanced around the room, and Sarah could tell that Alika was offended.
“Boy how I’d love to live there.”
Sarah felt herself getting upset. She wished Kate would shut up. She knew Kate didn’t mean any of what she was saying. If the Syrian man had been single, she would’ve thought polygamy the most backward institution in the modern world.
“Kate,” Sarah said, nudging her sister. She hoped Kate would catch the hint without an explanation. But it was too late. Alika had stood, now excusing herself from their company.
She extended her hand to Sarah then Kate. “It was nice meeting you.”
“You too,” Kate said, still cheerful, oblivious to the harm she’d done.
“You too,” Sarah said barely above a whisper, too ashamed to look Alika in the eye.
“So you, uh,” Justin coughed, bringing a loose fist to his mouth to cover it, “bring these animals wherever you go.”
“Whenever I can,” Abdur-Rahman said, tapping lightly on the birdcage that sat perched on his lap
at a guest table near the back of the men’s ballroom. One of the birds turned and flew to where Abdur-Rahman was wedging his finger inside. He smiled as his pet seemed to nibble at his finger with its beak. “But I only bring Freddie and Freda to events like these. Charlie doesn’t like ‘em too much.”
“Charlie?”
“My hamster.”
Justin nodded, glancing around the room, rolling his empty glass between his hands. He saw Sulayman shaking the hands of some of the guests and embracing others as he made his way around the room. He couldn’t get over his nephew’s beard. It seemed so awkward and unbecoming of a boy so young. He didn’t understand Sarah. Could she really be serious about all this? He had tried to find her earlier, but a man, who apparently was a security guard of some sort, told him he couldn’t go past the bathrooms at the end of the hall. That was the women’s section.
“Is there any religious significance to the birds?”
Abdur-Rahman laughed but continued to play with the bird, moving his finger to different parts of the cage, his pet following in apparent enjoyment. He smiled and shook his head playfully at the bird, his hair moving slightly with the motion. He leaned forward so he could be in its full view. “To me there is.”
“How’s that?”
“Islam teaches kind treatment to all creatures.”
“How is that different from any other religion?” Justin raised an eyebrow as he studied Abdur-Rahman laughing and playing with his pets.
“It’s more specific and detailed in Islam.”
Justin tucked his lower lip and nodded, toying with his glass again. He lifted his arm and bent it to look at his Rolex. He wondered how much longer he should be polite before making up some excuse to go. He would rather be with Kate, though he doubted she would bore him any less. He looked up and saw Sulayman greeting a group of men three tables away. He wondered if Sulayman would feel obligated to sit with him. He hoped not. Justin had no idea what he would say to his sister’s son. He barely knew the young man. And that’s how he liked it. If Kate and his mother hadn’t pressed him to come, he would be home with his wife and children right then.
“You American originally?” Justin asked, relieved that Abdur-Rahman had stopped, at least momentarily, playing with the birds.
