by Umm Zakiyyah
“Oh, come on, Beth,” Raymond said, his annoyed tone prompting Inaya to look in his direction. “I hate when people say stuff like that. It’s like the only people who ever earn their awards are White Anglo-Saxon men.”
“That’s not what I meant, Raymond,” Bethany said, her cheeks becoming flushed. “I’m just saying there’s this whole media campaign to make people nice to Muslims. I’m tired of it.”
Inaya winced. But she realized that, most likely, Bethany wasn’t directing the comment at her. Bethany had met Inaya only once before, last week when Bethany had sat with Kayla for lunch. She probably didn’t even recognize Inaya without hijab.
“Nasra is one of the smartest students in the school,” Raymond said. “If she wins, it’s because she deserved to, not because the school’s trying to win Brownie points.”
“But you can’t deny that the school considers things like that,” Lyrica said to Raymond. “Diversity influences their decisions.”
“So what if it does?” Raymond said, frowning as he set down his partially-eaten sandwich. “That doesn’t mean the person didn’t deserve to win.”
“Stop taking things so personally,” Bethany said, rolling her eyes. “I wasn’t talking about you.”
“Me?” Raymond glared at her. “This has nothing to do with me.”
“My point exactly.” Bethany huffed. “Gosh, you’re not even Muslim.”
“But if what you say is true,” Raymond said, “then you would be talking about me.”
“I agree,” Kayla’s other friend said, sitting up. She turned to Bethany. “We can’t call foul every time a non-White wins something. It’s not fair.”
Bethany slapped her hands on the table and stood. “I’m finished here.” She picked up some plastic food containers she’d eaten from and tossed them onto the tray.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” she said. “This whole country is turning into a bunch of bleeding-heart liberals. What happened to a good old-fashioned conversation?”
“What happened to good old-fashioned patience?” Kayla’s friend said.
Bethany glowered at her friend before lifting the tray and walking away.
“Whew,” Kayla said, laughing nervously once Bethany was out of earshot. “That was intense.”
Raymond grumbled something under his breath and shook his head. Lyrica leaned toward him and put her arm around his shoulder as she whispered something in his ear.
For several seconds, an awkward silence stifled any attempt at conversation.
“Sorry about that,” Kayla said.
When no one responded, Inaya looked up to find her cousin smiling apologetically at her.
Inaya creased her forehead. “Why are you sorry?”
Before Kayla could respond, Kayla’s friend spoke. “Well, whoever wins the Distinguished Student Award,” she said, “I’m happy for them. I don’t think there’s a higher award given at the school.”
Kayla nodded and smiled. “Good luck, Lyrica,” she said. “I think you deserve it.”
At these words, Raymond’s expression softened, and he grinned at his girlfriend. “I agree.”
Chapter 8
Reunion
One Saturday evening in early October, Inaya sat staring out the passenger-side window as Sa’ad drove through the quiet streets of the townhouse community where Chris Donald lived. Though Inaya understood why her mother wasn’t joining her on the visit, the knowledge did not erase the sadness Inaya felt at spending time with her father alone.
It was moments like these that Inaya found it difficult to understand why her mother’s decision to accept Islam could not have included her father too. Inaya knew that it wasn’t allowed for a Muslim woman to be married to a non-Muslim man, but why couldn’t her mother have been more patient? Perhaps if Veronica had only given Chris more time, they could have remained married.
But it was always all or nothing with Veronica, Inaya thought sadly. Where Veronica saw black and white, Inaya and Chris saw gray. Even Sa’ad had advised Veronica to be more flexible in her practice of Islam. Of course, Sa’ad was not thinking of his wife’s first marriage when he’d said this, but Inaya couldn’t help thinking of his words right then.
“Just relax and enjoy yourself,” Sa’ad said as he slowed the car in front of Chris’s townhouse.
Inaya turned to see her stepfather smiling at her, his olive complexion distorted by the laugh lines next to his eyes. At his warm expression, Inaya’s anxiety lessened. But she hadn’t realized that she was stressed.
She smiled and nodded hesitantly. She wasn’t so sure that relaxing was possible. But she would try to enjoy herself.
“I know all of this must be really confusing for you,” Sa’ad said as he put the car in park.
Inaya met his gaze with her forehead creased.
“Becoming Muslim so young, your parents’ divorce.” He chuckled, but there was a trace of melancholy in that sound. “Then an Arab stepfather.”
She averted her gaze. It was the first time Sa’ad had spoken so frankly with her. She didn’t know what to say.
“I’m sorry, Inaya.” The softness in his tone made her throat close. “I really am.”
Inaya knew she should say something in response, but she couldn’t find her voice.
“Just know if you need anything,” he said, “I’m here.”
She nodded, her gaze fixed on her folded hands.
“Thanks for the gift,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Sa’ad reached over and patted Inaya’s hands. “You’re welcome. I just wish I could give you something more. You deserve it, maashaAllah.”
Inaya didn’t feel as if she deserved anything, but she was grateful for the kind words.
“No,” she said as she shook her head. “You deserve more.” She hadn’t meant to speak her thoughts aloud, but it was too late. She had never told Sa’ad she felt bad that she wasn’t a good stepdaughter. She hated that she resented his presence when all he’d shown her was patience and kindness.
There was a pregnant pause.
Someone in the townhouse parted the curtains and peered outside.
“I better go,” Inaya said.
“Call me when you’re ready to come home.”
Inaya nodded as she adjusted the strap of her purse over her shoulder. She pulled the passenger handle and pushed open the door.
“You look beautiful in that hijab, maashaAllah,” Sa’ad said as Inaya stepped out the car.
The sides of Inaya’s mouth creased in a smile. “You have good taste.”
Sa’ad chuckled as Inaya shut the car door.
“As-salaamu’alaikum,” Sa’ad called out.
Inaya waved to her stepfather before she made her way up the path leading to her father’s home.
***
“Inaya!” Chris said as Inaya stepped inside. He immediately pulled her into a hug, and Inaya inhaled the smell of coffee and spices. She remembered waking up as a child to find her father sitting reading the newspaper, a steaming coffee mug and a slice of freshly baked spiced bread on the kitchen table in front of him.
Chris released Inaya then held her face in his palms, a soft expression on his face. “You still have those pretty brown eyes.”
Inaya grinned shyly and looked away, uncomfortable in the knowledge that along with her honey-colored skin, Inaya’s brown eyes were a trait she inherited from her mother.
Music played from a stereo, the upbeat sound thumping in time with her heart, and Inaya recognized the song as R&B, the rhythm and blues some of her friends in Saudi Arabia liked to listen to.
“Come on in, sweetheart.” Chris tugged on her hand, and Inaya followed him into the living room.
“How’s your mother doing?” Chris asked as they settled on the couch. A tray of snacks and drinks was on the floor table in front of them.
For a fleeting moment, Inaya forgot that her parents were divorced. Years ago, the question was one her father would ask if Veronica was
not feeling well.
“She’s good.” Inaya lifted her chin and loosed the fabric there then pulled the khimaar from her head.
“Do you like your new school?” He poured juice into a glass then handed it to Inaya. “Your uncle Anthony tells me you and Kayla are together.”
“It’s okay,” Inaya said, setting the fuchsia hijab next to her before accepting the glass.
There was a brief pause as Chris poured himself some juice and Inaya sipped hers.
“Do the students treat you well?” he said. “As a Muslim, I mean.”
She nodded. “Everybody’s nice.”
“I’m happy to hear that.” He sighed, a slight smile on his face. “I was really worried about you.”
Inaya smiled awkwardly, unsure what to say. Her gaze fell on the large clock on the wall, and it was then that she remembered the sunset prayer. She stood suddenly.
“Is there anywhere I can pray?” She hoped the abrupt change in subject did not offend her father.
“Of course,” he said, standing immediately. “You can pray in my room.”
Inaya held her fuchsia scarf in her hand as she followed him down the hall.
***
“So if someone wants to become Muslim…” Chris said after Inaya rejoined him on the couch in the living room. His eyes were thoughtful, and it was then that Inaya remembered what Kayla had said.
“You didn’t know your dad is thinking about converting?”
Inaya met her father’s gaze curiously. Could it be that Kayla was not mistaken?
“…what do they need to do?”
Inaya reached for a packet of crackers and shrugged as she opened it. “They just need to say the shahaadah.”
Chris squinted as if trying to recall something. He pointed to Inaya. “That’s the testament of faith, right?”
“The testimony,” she said with a nod.
“Hmm…” a thoughtful smile lingered on his face for some time.
“You want to become Muslim?” Inaya smirked. She was tempted to tease him about it, but something held her back.
He chuckled uncomfortably. “I can’t say I want to…”
Inaya raised an eyebrow playfully. “Do you believe God is One?”
“I believed that all my life.”
“Not part of the Trinity?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe that. It doesn’t make sense.”
“So you don’t believe God is Jesus or anything like that?”
His lips formed a thin line momentarily. “No, not anymore.”
“Cool.” Inaya grinned, unable to conceal her excitement.
Chris tossed his head back in laughter. “Cool?”
“Yeah.” Inaya’s eyes widened in excitement. “Now our whole family will be Muslim.”
“Woe…” He put up a hand, laughter escaping his throat. “One step at a time.”
“Daddy.” Inaya grinned, an idea coming to her just then. “Why don’t you do it now? Tonight, I mean.”
He drew his eyebrows together. “Do what, sweetheart?”
“Say the shahaadah.”
His eyes grew large, but a pleasant expression remained on his face. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”
Inaya frowned. “Why not? Don’t you believe in the Hereafter?”
“Of course.”
“And that Islam is true?”
There was a thoughtful pause, but he nodded finally. “Yes, I do.” His voice was somewhat subdued, his gaze distant.
“Then what are you waiting for?” Inaya smiled broadly, unable to contain her anxiousness.
Chris met his daughter’s gaze, an amused expression in his eyes. “What if I’m not ready?”
Inaya contorted her face and chuckled. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
His eyebrows shot up, but there was humor in his eyes. “Oh, so you think this is just as easy as saying some words?”
She knitted her brows. “Yes…” Uncertainty clouded her expression. “Isn’t it?”
Chris held Inaya’s gaze briefly then shook his head. “If only it were.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
Chris drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “If I become Muslim, my whole life has to change.”
“Why?”
He furrowed his brows and looked at Inaya as if seeing his daughter for the first time. “Sweetheart…” His voice conveyed a desire to put his thoughts in simple terms.
Inaya leaned forward, her eyes intent, but her mind was a storm of confusion. Why did he think becoming Muslim wasn’t as simple as testifying to the Oneness of God and belief in all His prophets?
Chris sighed. “Inaya, I have things I like to do. I…” He shook his head, apparently at a loss for words. “I have a fiancée. I have friends I’ve known since we were kids. I have a good job.”
Inaya narrowed her eyes in an effort to understand, but she felt only a vague sense of comprehension. “But what does that have to do with becoming Muslim?”
“Everything.” His eyes conveyed amazement at her lack of understanding. “Don’t you realize what becoming Muslim would mean for someone like me?”
Inaya stared blankly at her father.
“I could lose Dana,” Chris said. “I might be fired from my job. There’ll be so many things I’ll have to give up.” He drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “And I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”
Chris forced laughter. “I’m used to being looked at as normal, sweetheart,” he said. “And as crazy as this may sound, I don’t want that to change.”
The word normal made Inaya think of her own desire to be invisible at school. It had even pushed her to remove her Islamic headdress.
Inaya averted her gaze, understanding her father’s concerns but not wanting to.
“I know you’re too young to understand all I’m saying,” he said with a sigh. “But trust me. This isn’t a simple decision. It’ll mean sacrificing a lot more than I’m ready to.”
Inaya wanted to tell him that she herself wasn’t doing so well, but he spoke before she could say anything.
“Believe it or not,” he said with a chuckle, “you’re my inspiration.” He smiled, his eyes on the ceiling briefly.
“When I see how strong you are,” he said, “I’m so proud. And I think, ‘That’s my girl.’” He nodded. “And I tell myself, ‘One day, I’ll be like that.’”
An awkward smile formed on Inaya’s face and she dropped her gaze to the crackers in her hand. She wondered what her father would think if he knew the truth.
Chapter 9
A Second Chance
“I could do this all the time!” Lyrica threw her hands up and moved her body in rhythm to the music blaring from her iPod player on the schoolyard pavement.
Laughing, Kayla pushed herself off the grass and stood to join Lyrica. Kayla motioned to Inaya. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s dance.”
It was a Wednesday afternoon and the three friends had decided to spend the lunch period outside. Though it was late October, the weather was comfortably cool, and they wore thin jackets.
Inaya felt the urge to join her friends, but she remained sitting on the grass, her knees pulled up in front of her as she thought about Raymond, who was at a Student Council meeting right then. A smile creased a corner of Inaya’s mouth as she watched Lyrica sway back and forth, her attractive form difficult for Inaya to rip her eyes from.
“That’s okay,” Inaya said. “I’ll just watch.”
“Party pooper!” Lyrica called out.
Lyrica grasped Inaya’s hands and pulled Inaya forward before she could protest. Laughing uncomfortably, Inaya stumbled to her feet, but she held back from dancing. She stood to the side, her arms folded loosely over her chest as she watched her friends.
“It’s like I waited my whole life,” Kayla sang along with the singer Chris Brown as she danced next to Lyrica, “for this one night.”
Inaya nodded her head to the music, unable to cal
m the urge to join them.
“It’s gon’ be me, you, and the dance floor,” Lyrica and Kayla sang out the chorus to “Forever.”
Inaya moved her shoulders rhythmically and clapped her hands.
“Can I have this dance?”
Kayla and Lyrica looked toward Inaya and burst out laughing, and Inaya had the strange feeling that she was the butt of a joke.
She jerked in surprise when someone pulled her back by the shoulder. Her heart hammered in her chest when she turned to find Raymond smiling at her and taking her hand. Her face grew warm as he grasped both her hands.
She laughed uncomfortably as he moved their hands back and forth.
“Feels like we’re on another level,” Raymond sang.
Inaya was pleasantly surprised that he could carry a tune, and she moved in rhythm with him. But she kept a comfortable distance between her and him except for their joined hands.
Raymond winked at her as he continued singing. “…We can be two rebels, breaking the rules, me and you…”
At his last words, Inaya felt a surge of confidence swell in her chest and she danced more, unable to keep from laughing out loud, giddy in happiness. Next to them Lyrica and Kayla held hands and danced in step with each other.
Was Raymond just reciting the lyrics to a song, or did he really mean what he was saying?
A wave of hope swept through Inaya as flattery nestled in her chest. She found herself wishing Lyrica and Kayla were not next to them.
***
“Why is the president of Student Council playing hooky?” Lyrica asked as she and Raymond walked hand-in-hand in front of Kayla and Inaya as they made their way back to the building for classes.
“It was a meeting,” Raymond said, laughter in his voice, “not class.”
“Oh, so you’re shirking responsibility after you got our votes?” Kayla teased.