His Other Wife

by Umm Zakiyyah

  “Who is it?” she yelled just as she got to the door.

  “Aliyah!” she heard a slightly muffled voice yell. “I’m going to kill you.”

  Aliyah recognized the voice at once. Groaning in annoyance, she didn’t even bother looking outside before she unbolted the door and pulled it open. And sure enough, Deanna stood in the doorway, looking peeved as usual.

  “Girl, you know you ain’t got nothing important enough going on in your life to make you too good to answer your phone.” Deanna shoved past Aliyah and slipped off her shoes in the foyer, not bothering to ask if it was okay to come inside.

  Aliyah started to say that after Matt and Nikki had dropped off Ibrahim last night, she had turned off her cell and home phone so that she and Ibrahim could spend time together uninterrupted this weekend. But she was stunned to silence as she saw Younus and Thawab trailing behind their mother, bulging knapsacks on their backs and lunchboxes in their hands.

  “Deanna,” Aliyah said, trying to maintain her calm, “what are you d—”

  “As-salaamu’alaikum, Aunty Aliyah,” Younus said, his polite tone and innocent expression disarming Aliyah. He shrugged off his knapsack then set it next to his lunchbox on the foyer floor. He then kneeled and pulled off his shoes with such casual familiarity that you’d think he lived there. As usual, Thawab followed the motions of his brother, setting down his knapsack and lunchbox then kneeling and taking off his shoes too.

  “Say salaams to Aunty,” Younus whispered to Thawab. Obediently, Thawab looked up at Aliyah and gave her salaams then looked back toward his brother for approval. Younus nodded, and a shadow of a smile flashed on Thawab’s face.

  The scene touched a soft spot in Aliyah. She often marveled at how mature Younus was for his age. At eight years old, he was already a little man. Thawab was only five, so it would be years before he could appreciate the blessing he had in his big brother. Aliyah smiled beside herself. She imagined Younus would grow up to be like his father: helpful, patient, and paternal. Younus and Jacob already had noticeable similarities, in appearance and mannerisms.

  “May-I-use-your-bathroom-please-Aunty,” Thawab said in the voice he used when he was making a conscious effort to be polite to elders.

  Aliyah nodded. “Yes you may, munchkin,” she said, her tone soft with compassion. As she watched Thawab hurry to the bathroom, she couldn’t bring herself to voice her annoyance with Deanna for having stopped by unannounced. She would have to talk to Deanna later, when the children were not in earshot. She didn’t want Younus or Thawab to think she was upset or annoyed with them.

  “Boy,” Deanna’s voice thundered, “get up off your lazy behind and see if your brother needs help.”

  Aliyah cringed. She hated when Deanna spoke to her children like that. Younus was so well behaved and mild-mannered that Aliyah couldn’t imagine that a harsh tone like that could ever be justified with him. But she kept her thoughts to herself. Just as Deanna was the expert on marriage, she was also the expert on childrearing. Aliyah was a “pushover” and Ibrahim was “spoiled” according to Dr. Deanna Bivens, Ph.D. “You need to take some parenting classes,” Deanna often said. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”

  “Can I get the salaams at least?” Deanna said after Younus went to check on his brother. Her expression conveyed annoyance as she walked over to the couch and sat down. “You have zero social skills.”

  “The general custom,” Aliyah said, her voice purposefully didactic and condescending, “in America and Islam, is for the person entering the home to greet those already there.” She gave Deanna a tightlipped smile. “So wa’alaiku mus-salaam wa rahmatullaah, Deeja.”

  Deanna laughed and waved her hand dismissively. “Girl, come here,” she said, patting the place on the couch next to her. “I need your advice on something.”

  That’s new, Aliyah thought to herself. She couldn’t imagine any topic troubling Deanna enough that it would require her input. But she would address Deanna’s dilemma later. Instead of sitting next to Deanna, Aliyah stood in front of the couch, arms crossed. “Are you all planning to stay the whole day?”

  Deanna wrinkled her nose as if Aliyah had said something disgusting. “Are you crazy?” Deanna said. “I have too many things to do. I’m already running behind schedule as it is, thanks to you. But I cannot coddle you today. If you got issues, girl, then you’re on your own, at least for the next twenty-four hours.”

  The comment stung, but Aliyah willed herself to ignore it. She needed to have thicker skin with Deanna, but it was becoming more and more difficult to withstand the constant subtle and direct insults. She knew Deanna only meant it as friendly teasing, at least Aliyah kept telling herself that she did. But it didn’t feel like friendly teasing. Aliyah hated herself for being so sensitive, but it was becoming really stressful to be around Deanna.

  The inspiration Aliyah had once received from Deanna’s blunt, “no nonsense” advice was now replaced with anxiety and apprehension. Even years ago, when Aliyah was less secure about her perspective on life, Aliyah sometimes had a difficult time withstanding Deanna’s frankness and insensitivity. The most trying period of their friendship had been when Aliyah was indecisive about marrying Matt, and Deanna kept telling Aliyah that she needed to “stop being so arrogant.” Deanna kept saying, “Matt is a good Muslim, and that’s all that matters.” When Aliyah said she didn’t feel any spark or connection with Matt, Deanna had said, “Get over yourself. If you’re half the Muslim you say we all should be, then you’d have faith that Allah will work everything out. But if a good Muslim wants to marry you, you marry him. Period.”

  Incidentally, Aliyah received the same advice from the local imam, who convinced her that “true believers marry for the sake of Allah, not for their nafs.” The imam’s words affected Aliyah so deeply that it made her reflect on her selfishness in wanting a love marriage and not a purely Islamic one. So shortly thereafter, she agreed to marry Matt, putting her trust in Allah that everything would turn out all right. She even managed to convince herself that she was excited to get married, so she’d eagerly introduced Matt to Benjamin in hopes of getting her uncle’s approval. But now that Aliyah was divorced, Deanna insisted that the marriage had fallen apart because Aliyah didn’t know how to keep a husband. “No woman in her right mind lets her husband marry another wife,” Deanna often said.

  Aliyah imagined that anyone else would be grateful to have Dr. Deanna Bivens, a renowned relationship guru, as a close friend. But right then, Aliyah didn’t feel grateful. She felt used. “Then what are the lunchboxes and backpacks for?” Aliyah said to Deanna, gesturing a hand toward the now cluttered foyer.

  “I said I’m not staying.” Deanna narrowed her eyes, as if finding it difficult to comprehend Aliyah’s ignorance. “I came by to drop off the boys.”

  A flash of rage swept through Aliyah. “No,” she said, heart pounding so forcefully that she could already feel her voice shaking. “No, Deeja. I’m busy today. I can’t.”

  “Can you just shut up and sit down?” Deanna said irritably. “I need your advice.”

  “No, Deeja.” Aliyah felt the anxiety and frustration building. Deanna was, again, dismissing her protests, ignoring her concerns, and operating on only what Deanna wanted. “You don’t need my advice. You need to listen to me.”

  “Listen to you?” Deanna pulled her face into a look of distaste. “That’s all I do, night and day. In fact, ever since we met, that’s all I’ve ever done, listen to you and help you. I helped you get a husband. I helped you get a job. I help pay your bills. I listen every time you stress over your stupid, childish problems. But when will you listen to me?”

  Aliyah’s eyes widened in shock and hurt. Deanna’s words cut deep. Over the years, Aliyah had never asked anything from Deanna except for occasional advice. Everything else (and often against Aliyah’s refusals and protests) Deanna had offered—and insisted on—completely on her own. Aliyah hadn’t even been interested in marriage when Deanna intro
duced her to Matt. Aliyah had already been looking for a job when Deanna asked Jacob to speak to the college about hiring her. Aliyah had been quietly (though stressfully) living paycheck to paycheck whenever Deanna surprised her with a handwritten check. And though Aliyah couldn’t deny turning to Deanna for reassurance and advice whenever she was stressed, Aliyah thought that was what friends do. Besides, Deanna herself would repeatedly tell Aliyah that she would always be there for her. Why then was Deanna throwing all this back in Aliyah’s face?

  One day you’re going to realize that some people only help you so they can control the outcome. The words, which had been spoken by Deanna to Aliyah in an earlier conversation about Matt, took on a sudden, terrifying meaning in present tense. Aliyah shook the troubling thoughts from her head and sought refuge in Allah from Shaytaan. What was wrong with her? When had she begun to think so negatively of people?

  No matter how irritating Deanna could be, she had a big heart and had helped Aliyah more than Aliyah could count. And for that, Aliyah owed Deanna a great deal. Aliyah didn’t have the money or resources to benefit Deanna’s lifestyle in any significant way, and she certainly wasn’t as knowledgeable about life and marriage as Deanna was. So what was so wrong with babysitting Deanna’s children at a moment’s notice? What was so wrong with being overly accommodating to someone who had done so much for her? What was so wrong with being thankful for the blessing she had in Deanna instead of being constantly annoyed?

  Aliyah opened her mouth to apologize, but she saw Younus and Thawab return to the living room, their eyes full of confusion and concern as they saw the mothers’ upset expressions.

  “Hey!” Ibrahim said, excitement in his voice as he entered the living room and saw Younus and Thawab.

  “Hey, man,” Younus said, a grin spreading on his face upon seeing Ibrahim.

  “Take Younus and Thawab to your room,” Aliyah said. “Now, please,” she added in as soft a tone as she could manage.

  “Yes!” Ibrahim called out then ran out the living room. Younus and Thawab followed, no less eager as they walked swiftly behind him.

  Aliyah felt heavyhearted as she saw how giddy Ibrahim was once he realized Younus and Thawab had come over. Maybe she was blind and self-centered, as Deanna often said. She had wanted Ibrahim all to herself for the weekend, but why hadn’t she considered inviting Younus and Thawab over to play with him? Was this “spending quality time” priority really about Ibrahim’s needs? Or was it about allaying Aliyah’s guilt as the divorced, part-time mother?

  “I’m really stressed about all this marriage stuff,” Deanna said after the boys disappeared into Ibrahim’s room.

  Aliyah was immediately reminded of the brief conversation she’d had with Jacob a couple of days before, when he alluded to marital problems between him and Deanna. The mere reminder incited a headache. Aliyah felt horrible for being privy to what Deanna would certainly see as vicious betrayal for Aliyah having even listened to Jacob’s concerns. “I was just wondering if you could talk to her some time,” Jacob had said, “you know, about some of the things you’ve studied about Islamic marriage in your classes. Maybe just a few things about the role of the husband as the leader of the household.”

  And I agreed, Aliyah thought regretfully. At the time, it was her way of ending the conversation and getting in her car and going home. But now she wondered if Allah would hold her accountable for making that promise. In one of her Islamic studies classes, Aliyah had learned that getting advice was the right of every Muslim, and that any agreement made, even if only verbal, was a type of amaanah, a sacred trust that must be fulfilled. But Aliyah didn’t want to get involved in advising Deanna about marriage. It wasn’t her place. But perhaps Deanna’s sudden visit that morning was Allah giving Aliyah a way out. She could listen to Deanna’s concerns while casually throwing in a comment about the rights of the husband in Islam.

  “Tell me what I should do,” Deanna said.

  “Did you already talk to Jacob about your concerns?” Aliyah said as she sat down on the couch a comfortable distance from Deanna.

  Deanna waved her hand dismissively. “Girl, I had to train Jacob on the basics of marriage counseling before we did workshops together. He doesn’t know anything. Anyway, I need the perspective of someone who can relate to what I’m trying to do.”

  Taken aback that Deanna had that much respect for her point of view, Aliyah was at a loss for words. “There’s nothing I could say about marriage that Deanna would listen to,” Aliyah had said to Jacob. At that moment, Aliyah wished she could take those words back. She should have never said anything like that about Deanna, especially to Deanna’s husband. Guilt gnawed at Aliyah, and she wondered if her words had counted as backbiting, or worse, slander. Astaghfirullah, she said silently, seeking Allah’s forgiveness. “What is it you’re trying to do?” Aliyah asked.

  “It’s kind of complicated actually…” Deanna appeared to be trying to gather her thoughts. “I know marriage is supposed to be really inspiring, but I’m starting to wonder if I’m going about all this the wrong way.”

  Aliyah nodded, but the guilt kept eating at her. How was it that she had misjudged Deanna so terribly? Was it as Deanna had said, that Aliyah had never taken a moment to actually listen to Deanna, even as Deanna listened to her all the time? Oh my God, Aliyah thought. Am I that self-absorbed?

  “Be patient with yourself,” Aliyah heard herself saying to Deanna. “Marriage isn’t easy for anyone. It’s only natural that you’ll do some things wrong. Nobody’s the perfect wife.”

  Deanna met Aliyah’s gaze with her eyebrows raised, and for a moment, Aliyah thought Deanna was reflecting on what she had said. “What?”

  The harsh tone of Deanna’s voice flustered Aliyah. Had she said something wrong? “I’m just saying,” Aliyah said hurriedly, “I know it’s hard respecting a man as the leader of the household, especially coming from the dunya where everything’s fifty-fifty.”

  “You mean it was hard for you?” Deanna’s face was contorted as she stabbed a forefinger in the air toward Aliyah.

  “No, I mean, I…” Aliyah’s thoughts became jumbled as Deanna glared at her. “…I was just thinking, I know everyone struggles in their marriage, so you and Jacob can—”

  “Me and Jacob?” Deanna interjected challengingly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You said you’re really stressed about this marriage stuff,” Aliyah said weakly. But Deanna’s icy glare was unmoving, as if waiting for further explanation. “So this is just my advice on what you and Jacob can—”

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  Aliyah shook her head. “Wh….”

  “When I said I’m stressed about this marriage stuff,” Deanna said indignantly, “I was talking about a new workshop idea I’m considering.”

  Oh.

  “And the only reason I’m asking your advice is because you represent my ideal client,” Deanna said, a sneer in her voice. “You’re divorced. You’re depressed. You’re broke.” Deanna enumerated her points with the forefinger of one hand pressing each finger on the other. “You have no marriage prospects. And you have no idea how to fix your relationship problems on your own. So my workshop idea is to help people like you.”

  Aliyah stared at Deanna, speechless in shock and offense.

  “That’s why I need your advice.” Deanna wrinkled her nose as she regarded Aliyah. “A marriage workshop is supposed to be inspirational, so I was hoping you could tell me if I’m on the right track.”

  An hour later Aliyah found herself mindlessly yanking the vacuum cleaner back and forth on the living room carpet. It was all she could do to quiet the fury in her chest. Ibrahim was still in his room with Younus and Thawab, and Deanna was out doing God-knows-what to save the world of pathetic divorced women like Aliyah.

  “Well, it hasn’t been easy,” Jacob had said a couple of days ago when he’d asked Aliyah’s help in advising Deanna.

  Well, it hasn’t been easy for me ei
ther! Aliyah thought in frustration.

  ***

  Deeja Marriage Guru: It’s cute when people with zero counseling credentials and zero success in their relationships try to offer experienced, married folks advice! LOL #nicetry #DontQuitYourDayJob #ijs

  Juwayriah bint Abdullah and 159 others like this. 62 comments.

  It was early Sunday morning and Aliyah was sitting on her bed with her laptop balanced on her folded legs in front of her. She had finished praying Fajr a half hour ago and had decided to log into her Facebook account before taking a short nap until Ibrahim—and Younus and Thawab—woke up. Aliyah should have known that when Deanna had dropped off her sons Saturday morning, it was going to be an all-day affair. Deanna didn’t do things halfway. If she was going to get free babysitting, she was going to milk the opportunity dry.

  But Deanna leaving her sons overnight without prior agreement was something new. This certainly was not the first time that Deanna had dropped off her sons or left them in Aliyah’s care without asking first, but previously, Aliyah had viewed this casualness as evidence of their close bond. “You’re practically family,” Deanna would often say, and Aliyah had naively been flattered. But as Aliyah sat in front of her laptop with Deanna’s latest Facebook status at the top of her newsfeed—posted last night at 11:58 pm, when Aliyah had been on the verge of a headache after trying to get Deanna’s sons to go to sleep—Aliyah felt nauseated.

  It was at this moment that Aliyah realized that her friendship with Deanna was not based on the mutual bonds of friendship and compassion, but on the toxic bonds of manipulation and control. Aliyah could never have dropped off Ibrahim at Deanna’s without calling first, and most certainly not last minute on the day-of. Even if she’d called a week in advance, Deanna most likely would have still refused.