His Other Wife

by Umm Zakiyyah

  Reem pulled her head back in shock and offense. “What is your problem?” she hissed, indignant. “How do expect anyone to support your decision, or even come to the wedding, if you act like this?”

  Mashael grunted and rolled her eyes, a knowing smile on her face as she shook her head. “See? This is why I don’t want to talk to you about the wedding. Everything is always about you, and how you can make someone’s life miserable if they do something you don’t like.”

  “You’re the one flaunting your engagement ring. How am I wrong to ask about it? You’re practically throwing your wedding in my face.”

  Mashael’s eyes widened, a look of amused disbelief on her face. “Seriously? You’re even going to turn my happiness into a slight against you? Yaa salaam! You are so self-centered.”

  “Then why did you show it to me if you didn’t want me to talk about it?” Reem shot back.

  “Because it’s on my finger,” Mashael said. “And the least I can do is tell you what it means, even if it’s already obvious. But that doesn’t mean I want to do wedding plans together.”

  “I never asked to be a part of your wedding!” Reem said, her tone laced in offense. “I don’t even know if we’ll come.”

  Mashael glared at Reem, hurt in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she slowly turned around and started putting her racket back in its case. She yanked the zipper closed in angry jerks of her hand.

  “SubhaanAllah,” Reem said in disappointment and rebuke as she followed her sister across the court. “So you’re canceling tennis now? That’s so immature.”

  “Really?” Mashael spun around to face Reem, causing Reem to nearly run into her. “Is it any more immature than ending your friendship with Aliyah? Or canceling Qur’an with her and everyone else just because they don’t worship you properly?”

  Mashael grimaced. “Wallah, sometimes I’m ashamed that you’re my sister,” she said. “It’s not enough that you walk around looking like an extremist. You have to act like one too. And you have the nerve to say it’s all for Islam. It’s all for you, Reem, and only you.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You dress like that and call yourself a Qur’an teacher just so you can feel better than everyone else. Because you know if you took off your hijab and stopped teaching Qur’an, you’ll have nothing left you can say about yourself. Then it’ll be obvious to everyone that so-called ignorant Muslims like me, Sheldon, and Aliyah are way better people than you.”

  ***

  As soon as Mashael saw Aliyah enter the apartment corridor, head down and feet nearly dragging while flanked by three energetic children, she knew it had been a bad idea to come. She had knocked on Aliyah’s door a half hour ago, and when no one answered, she’d texted Aliyah to say she was at her apartment, hoping to drop by and chat.

  I’m on my way home now, Aliyah had texted in response, if you want to wait.

  A tired smile crept on Aliyah’s face when her gaze met Mashael’s. Mashael smiled apologetically in return and warded off the tinge of guilt she felt at the realization that Aliyah was being cordial for her sake.

  “As-salaamu’alaikum,” Aliyah said, raising a hand in greeting. Her smile spread as she gestured to the boys. “Ibrahim wanted his brothers to come over.”

  “It’s okay,” Mashael said quickly, feeling bad for the apology she heard in Aliyah’s tone. “I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

  Aliyah forced laughter as if enjoying a private joke. “Don’t worry about that,” she said, waving her hand as she held her keys. “I welcome the interruption.”

  Mashael waited as Aliyah unlocked the door then pushed it open.

  “Did you pray Dhuhr?” Aliyah asked, glancing over her shoulder as the boys zipped past them and pulled off their shoes.

  “I can’t pray,” Mashael said, indirectly referring to her monthly cycle. Aliyah held the door as Mashael stepped past her and took off her shoes.

  “Younus,” Aliyah called out before the boys could disappear into Ibrahim’s room. He turned and met her gaze, a question and slight irritation on his face. “Can you call the adhaan for us?” she said casually as she closed the door and bolted it.

  Younus smirked in male pride and walked into the living room. Mashael smiled to herself as she watched Younus make the formal call to prayer. The sight made her eager to get married and have children of her own.

  “Sorry to stop by unannounced like this,” Mashael said after Aliyah and the boys finished praying and the boys had retreated to Ibrahim’s room. Aliyah set a tray of snacks and drinks on the floor table before settling on the couch next to Mashael. Aliyah still had that look of exhaustion in her eyes, but her overall aura seemed more relaxed after praying. “But I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

  A shadow of concern passed over Aliyah’s face. “Is everything okay?”

  “Sheldon and I are going to get married,” Mashael blurted, “and I don’t want my family there.”

  Aliyah’s eyebrows rose, and her gaze became distant for some time. “Not even Reem?” she asked, still looking at nothing in particular. Mashael could hear the disappointment and concern in Aliyah’s voice.

  “Especially not Reem,” Mashael said bitterly.

  Aliyah shook her head in confusion as she met Mashael’s gaze with her eyebrows drawn together. “Why not? I thought she was the only one who supported you and Sheldon.”

  Mashael felt a surge of irritation at the thought of Reem’s hypocrisy. “She supported Sheldon becoming Muslim because she had to, but she doesn’t support the marriage.”

  Aliyah look confused and disturbed. “Are you sure? Did she say that to you?”

  “Yes,” Mashael said irritably, recalling the numerous arguments they’d had before Sheldon became Muslim. “She wouldn’t shut up about it.” Mashael sighed and leaned back on the couch. “But she did say she’ll be there for me, no matter what.”

  Aliyah’s face brightened somewhat. “MashaAllah, that’s really good.”

  “I guess so,” Mashael muttered, unconvinced.

  “Reem was probably just trying to be completely honest with you about how she feels,” Aliyah offered. “It’s normal to worry about someone you love. Remember, they don’t know Sheldon like you do.”

  “And whose fault is that?” Mashael grumbled, folding her arms.

  “Nobody’s.” Something in the soft way Aliyah spoke prompted Mashael to look at her. “Sometimes things just happen,” Aliyah said with an almost imperceptible shrug, “and nobody wanted it to turn out like this.”

  “I just don’t want the happiest day of my life ruined with their negativity and judgmental attitudes.”

  “I doubt Reem will be negative on your wedding day. She’ll be happy for you insha’Allah.”

  Mashael wasn’t so sure, but she kept her thoughts to herself. “We had an argument today,” she said in a low voice, eyes averted. “And I told her never to ask me about the wedding again.”

  An extended silence followed, and Mashael sensed that the news made Aliyah sad.

  “It’s a blessing to have a family,” Aliyah said, but she seemed to be talking more to herself than to Mashael. “Especially a Muslim family.”

  “I know,” Mashael said with a sigh. “And I’m grateful for them. It’s just…” Mashael tried to find the words for what she was feeling right then. “…I don’t think of my family as real Muslims, you know?”

  Aliyah drew her head back in surprise. “What do you mean?”

  Mashael shrugged, unsure how to put her thoughts into words. “Islam is just something they use to guilt you into doing what they want. Especially my parents. They’re always talking about the rights of the mother and father in Islam because they want to control everything I do, even my thoughts and feelings. But they don’t really care about my soul.” She grunted. “I doubt they even care about their own.”

  “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Aliyah interjected. “Don’t they believe in Allah and pray?”

  “Yes
, but—”

  “Then they care about their souls.”

  “But they don’t even do everything they’re supposed to. They’re alw—”

  “Do you do everything you’re supposed to?” There was lighthearted amusement in Aliyah’s tone as she regarded Mashael, a confused smile on her face.

  The boldness of Aliyah’s question stopped Mashael midsentence, and for a fleeting moment, Mashael was offended. But in that moment she became self-conscious of her uncovered hair and exposed arms and legs. Her very presence was an obvious answer to Aliyah’s question, and she felt a flicker of shame for her appearance.

  Mashael had always defended not wearing hijab by saying she was in America, not in Saudi Arabia. But right then she saw the hypocrisy in her own mindset and behavior. Why did she feel comfortable disregarding Allah’s instructions about hijab but grew angry with her family for disregarding Allah’s instructions about whom she could marry? No, the two crimes were not of equal magnitude, in Mashael’s view, but they were crimes nonetheless. Look not at the size of your sin, a popular saying advised, but at the magnitude of the One you’re disobeying.

  “Nobody’s perfect, Mashael,” Aliyah said. “I’m not saying your family is right, or even that you have to invite them to your wedding. But if you don’t want them there, make sure it’s because you believe that’s what is wisest given the circumstance, not because they’re humans with faults just like you.”

  Mashael felt ashamed of herself all of a sudden, and guilt sat heavy in the pit of her stomach as she thought of how she’d spoken to Reem.

  “But I don’t want them there,” Mashael said quietly, overcome with emotion at the honesty of her words. “I want it to be just me and Sheldon.”

  A thoughtful silence followed.

  “What about your wali and witnesses?” Aliyah asked tentatively. Mashael sensed that Aliyah was trying to sound helpful instead of judgmental.

  Mashael contorted her face. “So I really have to have my father and other people there?”

  “You’ll need someone qualified to represent you,” Aliyah offered, “and at least two adult Muslim witnesses, from what I understand.”

  Mashael heaved a sigh of frustration as she folded her arms across her chest and collapsed against the couch, laying her head back, staring at the ceiling. “Then I’ll probably never get married.”

  Sounds of stomping and playful shouting came from Ibrahim’s room.

  “You guys are so lucky, mashaAllah,” Mashael said broodingly, still looking at the ceiling.

  “Who?”

  “Americans,” Mashael said. “As soon as you turn eighteen, your families let you do whatever you want.”

  “That’s not necessarily true.” Aliyah’s tone sounded sad and reflective.

  “But it’s the law,” Mashael said, venting. “Arabs would never allow something like that.”

  “But don’t you have American nationality?”

  Mashael grunted. “Technically, yes.”

  “Then it’s the law for you too,” Aliyah said. “But that doesn’t mean your family will let you do whatever you want.”

  Mashael turned her head to Aliyah from where it still lay on the back of the couch. “Would your parents stop you from marrying who you want?”

  Aliyah’s expression was difficult for Mashael to read. “No…” she said, almost cautiously. “But—”

  “But what?” Mashael said, laughter in her voice. “What could be better than that? Wallah, I wish I could have your parents, at least until after the wedding.”

  Aliyah’s expression became so disturbed that Mashael feared that she had angered Aliyah somehow. “Don’t say that,” Aliyah said finally, looking away. “Don’t ever say that again.” Her voice rose in firmness. “That is not something you want.”

  At that moment Mashael recalled Aliyah’s tired expression when she’d seen her in the hall earlier. She wondered if Aliyah’s stress was connected to her parents. “I only meant—”

  “I know what you meant,” Aliyah said, her voice still firm. “But still, don’t ever say it again, especially if you’re swearing by Allah. That’s not a small thing, Mashael.”

  “Swearing by Allah?” Mashael asked, sitting up and staring at Aliyah in genuine confusion. “I didn’t swear by Allah, I—”

  “You said ‘wallah.’ That’s swearing by Allah.”

  Mashael started to respond then realized that Aliyah was right. She had used the term for swearing by Allah. “But that’s just a way of emphasizing a point,” Mashael explained. “It’s not meant to be taken that seriously.”

  Aliyah stared at Mashael with what appeared to be genuine fear in her eyes. “A’oodhu-billaah,” Aliyah exclaimed, seeking refuge in Allah. “How can taking an oath in Allah’s name ever be a joke?”

  “I didn’t mean it’s a joke,” Mashael said, flustered. She didn’t understand why Aliyah was making such a big deal out of a simple phrase. “I mean, it’s just something Arabs say. It doesn’t mean anything like you’re thinking.”

  “To Allah or to you?”

  Mashael’s lips were already parted in preparation to respond, but Aliyah’s question silenced her. She had no idea what to say to that. For a moment, trepidation gripped her as she wondered if her casual use of Allah’s name was sinful.

  “Anyway,” Aliyah said with a sigh, apparently in an effort to lighten the mood, “my point is, be careful what you wish for. My parents are disbelievers, Mashael. There’s nothing admirable in that.”

  Mashael was quiet. She hadn’t thought about it from that perspective. She’d only meant that she wanted parents who wouldn’t make getting married so difficult.

  “I thought they were Christian,” Mashael said more for conversation’s sake than genuine interest.

  “They are in name,” Aliyah said sadly. “But they hate Islam so much that it doesn’t even make sense.”

  Mashael wrinkled her nose. “Really? Why?”

  Aliyah shrugged. “Who knows? Sometimes I feel they’re more upset that I chose something without their permission or approval than that I chose to become Muslim. To them, children are property whose sole purpose in life is to do their bidding.”

  “Wallah?” Mashael said, eyes wide. “Sorry,” she said, quickly shaking her head to correct herself. “Really?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “SubhaanAllah,” Mashael said. “I thought the Amish were the only Americans who were like that with their children.”

  Aliyah coughed laughter. “The Amish?” she said. “I heard they were really kind and family oriented.”

  “Maybe some of them are,” Mashael said. “But they excommunicated Sheldon after his rumspringa, and they won’t even speak to him or see him anymore.”

  The confused expression on Aliyah’s face told Mashael that she should explain. “Rumspringa is a time when Amish teenagers can act like regular Americans, but they have to fully recommit to the Amish lifestyle after that. But Sheldon didn’t really want to. He wanted to go to college instead of working on the farm.”

  Aliyah creased her forehead. “Do they know he’s Muslim now?”

  Mashael shook her head. “He lives with some distant family now, but he hasn’t told them yet. It’s almost unheard of for an Amish to convert to Islam, so I don’t know how they’ll take it.”

  “I thought he was excommunicated from his family.”

  “From his Amish family,” Mashael clarified. “But the relatives he lives with are Mennonites, so they’re fine with him going to school and doing what he wants.”

  “Except converting to Islam?” Aliyah said rhetorically, light humor in her tone.

  Mashael coughed laughter. “We’re crossing our fingers on that one.”

  “You mean you’re making du’aa?” Aliyah said playfully.

  Mashael laughed self-consciously and nodded. “We hope to get our own place soon though,” she said. “So hopefully, it won’t matter.”

  “Soon?” Aliyah said, creasing her
forehead in confusion. “You already have a wedding date set?”

  Mashael grew quiet. She hadn’t intended to reveal her plans to Aliyah. She knew Aliyah would never approve. “What’s the point in waiting?” Mashael said defensively.

  Aliyah shook her head, a confused expression still on her face. “I’m not saying you should wait,” she said. “I was just asking because I thought your parents didn’t give their approval yet.”

  “I’m not waiting for it,” Mashael said, defiance in her tone. “I heard that if my father doesn’t have an Islamic reason to stop me from getting married, he can’t.”

  “That’s true…” Aliyah said tentatively. “But you don’t think it’s too soon to go that route? Sheldon wasn’t Muslim when they first met him. So they couldn’t approve of him marrying you.” She frowned, empathy in her eyes. “Why not give your father a chance to say yes now that Sheldon’s Muslim?”

  Mashael was overwhelmed with exhaustion at the question. She had no idea how to explain to Aliyah that it didn’t matter how much or little time had passed, or whether or not Sheldon was Muslim now, her parents would never agree to the marriage. In her family, being American was synonymous with being a disbeliever, even if a person took his shahaadah and officially accepted Islam.

  One of the few exceptions to this general rule was when the family could earn bragging rights for guiding the person to Islam. But even then, it was a trophy-like pride, not one that respected the new Muslim as fully human with rights equal to their Arab brothers and sisters. When it came to marriage, non-Arabs’ Islamic rights almost disappeared. Sometimes this cultural rule was bent for American females marrying Arab men, but it was almost never bent for American men marrying Arab females. It was a huge dishonor to have non-Arab lineage in the family of a respectable Saudi family, and in families like Mashael’s, family honor took precedence over religion.

  “Sheldon’s parents are similar to mine,” Mashael said finally, though she imagined that Aliyah probably wouldn’t understand entirely where she was coming from. “So he understands why there’s no point trying to convince my parents. We’re just going to do a private ceremony then tell them later,” she said. “If ever.”