His Other Wife

by Umm Zakiyyah

  “I hope you’re joking,” Larry said, a playful sneer on his face.

  “I’m with Larry on that one,” Jamil said, laughter in his voice. “You’re going to have to explain how you can benefit from a bad message.”

  Salima leaned forward, eyebrows raised as she looked at Jacob, as if she too was awaiting an explanation. But she didn’t demand it verbally.

  “First of all,” Jacob said with a knowing smile as he looked at his mobile screen and scrolled down with his forefinger, apparently reading the text message that had just come in. There was an unnatural extended pause as his smile faded and a shadow of concern passed over his face as he stared at his phone. When he lifted his gaze, he looked directly at Jamil, whose expression suggested that he had some idea what this text could be about. There was a troubled question in Jamil’s eyes, and Jacob’s frown as he put the phone in his pocket seemed to give Jamil affirmation of what he feared. Jamil nibbled at his lower lip, and Jacob seemed distracted by sudden aggravation.

  “Is everything okay, bro?” Larry said, genuine concern in his voice. Aliyah and Salima looked at Jacob, their expressions mirroring Larry’s question and concern.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jacob said too quickly, waving his hand. “Just some work stuff at the last minute.” But Aliyah sensed that he was just saying that so that he didn’t ruin his brother’s first official meeting with the woman he wanted to marry.

  “What were you saying?” Jacob said, looking at Larry, keen interest in his eyes.

  “I wasn’t saying anything, man,” Larry said, brotherly teasing in his tone. “You said, ‘First of all,’ then left it at that.” He coughed laughter. “Like your point was so profound you didn’t even have to finish it.”

  Jacob laughed, and Aliyah could hear gratefulness in that sound, as if he knew his brother was being a good sport about Jacob wanting to pretend the unpleasant interruption hadn’t occurred.

  “But I’d be grateful if you could explain how we can earn good deeds by listening to bad songs,” Larry said.

  “My pleasure,” Jacob said, as if Larry’s last statement was all he needed to put the conversation back on track. “I don’t think I put it quite like that,” Jacob said. “But what I meant was that it’s not impossible to listen to a song with the specific intentions of getting something beneficial from it.”

  “For example?” Larry challenged.

  Aliyah noticed that Jamil was consciously making an effort to appear interested in the conversation, but it was obvious that the silent exchange between him and Jacob about the text message had truncated his interest in the topic.

  “Okay,” Jacob said, as if accepting the challenge. “Take any love song, for example.”

  “Ohhh,” Jamil said playfully, “I want to see where this is going.”

  “But seriously,” Jacob said, his voice rising in an effort to make his point. “Let’s be honest,” he said. “Most of the time they’re singing about zina, or at least wanting to commit the sin.”

  “I can’t argue with that one,” Larry said, nodding in agreement.

  “But let’s say I’m listening to it and consciously thinking about my wife.”

  “And if you’re not married?” Larry countered with a smirk.

  “Then my future wife.”

  Salima and Larry glanced at each other and smiled. Aliyah smiled herself upon seeing the obvious attraction between them.

  “If that’s what I’m thinking of when I listen to the song,” Jacob argued, “then I’m getting some benefit from it that perhaps the singer himself didn’t even intend.”

  “Okay…” Larry said tentatively, nodding, as if he hadn’t thought of that.

  “They have their intentions, and I have mine,” Jacob said with a shrug. “That’s what I tell myself whenever I watch or listen to something that I know wasn’t crafted with me and my religion in mind.”

  “But what about the subliminal messages though?” Salima asked, her tone suggesting genuine curiosity more than disagreement. “Aren’t you still affected?”

  “Perhaps,” Jacob conceded. “But if you pray five times a day every day, and at their proper times. And with sincerity and concentration,” he added for emphasis. “I don’t see how the effect could be that strong. Especially if you also read Qur’an, make du’aa, and do the morning and evening adhkaar that the Prophet, sallallaahu’alayhi wa sallam, taught.” Jacob shrugged. “Call me a fool, but I think the effect of Allah’s Words and messages are more powerful on your psyche than anyone else’s.”

  ***

  “Is something wrong?” Aliyah asked a couple of hours later as she helped Jacob clear the dining room table and clean up the kitchen. Their sons were in the playroom, but Aliyah had told Ibrahim to start getting ready to go home so he could review his hifdh and homeschool work before bedtime.

  “What do you mean?” Jacob said as he carried a plate to the kitchen, Aliyah following with a glass in each hand.

  Aliyah hesitated, unsure how much she had the right to ask. She didn’t want to appear nosy or obnoxious. But Jacob’s entire aura had changed after he received the text message during dinner, and he still didn’t seem himself.

  “That text message from earlier,” Aliyah said finally, keeping her gaze on the glasses as she set them on the counter then loaded them into the dishwasher. “It seems to have really bothered you.”

  Jacob was silent as he used a fork to scrape the food remains from the plate into the trashcan.

  “It was from Deanna’s lawyer,” he said finally, frowning as he carried the plate to the sink and rinsed it. It was then that Aliyah recalled Salima telling her that Jamil worked at the law firm that was representing Deanna.

  When Jacob met Aliyah’s shocked, concerned gaze, she knew what he would say before he said it. “The charges were dropped against her,” he said. “She’s being released.”

  Chapter 26

  A Job Well Done

  Aliyah sat in her college office Thursday afternoon, nibbling at her lower lip thoughtfully. She had finished all her classes for the day and was considering going home early to prepare Ibrahim’s homeschooling materials that she was using to supplement the minimal subject study that he was receiving at the Qur’an school. When Jacob had arranged her class schedule so that she would have most of the afternoon free, he’d told her that she was free to use her office hours to work on homeschooling preparation so long as she’d finished all her college duties. He told her she was also welcome to step out and check on Ibrahim at the masjid if she didn’t have a meeting or an appointment with a student, but he cautioned her to be careful about going home early every day lest Dr. Warren use it as yet another strike against her. But right then, Aliyah didn’t care. She was too distracted to think about work. She hadn’t finished all her college duties for the day, but she wasn’t making any progress just sitting in her office. So what was the point?

  She’s being released.

  A sick feeling came over Aliyah at the thought of seeing Deanna again. A part of Aliyah, the angry part, felt that Deanna deserved to remain in jail, if for no other reason than the crime of being a horrible human being. But the angry thought passed just as soon as it had come, and Aliyah was left with feeling horrible herself. She hated these sudden waves of anger. It was difficult reconciling this sporadic rage with the calm, peaceful, non-confrontational personality that had defined her since childhood.

  “But everyone has a limit,” Reem had told her once, when she was warning Aliyah about how she’d be treated if she married Jacob, “and I think you’re reaching yours.” Jacob himself had told Aliyah something similar, though for a different reason.

  Aliyah wondered why she hadn’t seen the warning signs herself. “I’m just happy to see you finally sticking up for yourself,” Jacob had said. But was that really what was happening? Or was she changing into a different person entirely?

  “Deanna is at her parents’ house now,” Jacob had told Aliyah that morning on the phone as they both d
rove to work. Aliyah actually had a surge of jealous protectiveness over her husband when he’d said that. She almost dared Deanna to come near Jacob and try anything. But a second later, she was worried about former best friend. Deanna staying at her parents’ house just didn’t seem like the best idea. But what other option did Deanna have? She certainly couldn’t stay with Jacob.

  “I changed all the locks,” Jacob had told Aliyah when she asked if he thought Deanna might try to come back to her old home. Aliyah had immediately thought of the key he had given her. “Before I gave you a key,” he’d added, as if reading her mind.

  “But what if she pretends she lost her key and gets a locksmith to make another one?” Aliyah had asked, concerned. “Especially since it’s still technically her home?”

  “Actually,” Jacob’s voice had said through the earpiece, “it’s technically my home.”

  Aliyah had creased her forehead, her eyes on the road. “It’s not hers too?”

  “No,” he said, “at least not on paper. It’s only in my name.”

  “Really?” For reasons she didn’t fully understand, Aliyah laughed, finding this bit of information humorous.

  “What?” Jacob’s voice said, confused humor detectable in his tone.

  “I don’t know,” Aliyah said honestly, laughter in her voice. “I guess it’s just something I never expected. A man doesn’t put his own wife’s name on the house they share?” She continued cackling and actually felt tears of laughter springing to her eyes. She wiped them away with one hand, her other still gripping the steering wheel. “Man, I’m scared of you,” she said jokingly.

  “It’s not what you think,” he said. “It’s something Deanna actually insisted on after we got married.”

  “Deanna?” Aliyah said, taken aback. For some reason, this information sapped the last bit of hilarity from the scenario.

  “When we got married...” he began, his tone suggesting self-conscious humor, “she had this notion that she was going to strike it rich from all her books and marriage workshops and business ideas, so she made sure we had separate bank accounts and that whatever was of any value was in only one person’s name.”

  “Oh…”

  “I honestly have no idea how much money she has to her name.”

  “So you don’t have a shared bank account?” Aliyah said, genuinely surprised.

  “One,” he said. “But it’s a savings account that we planned to put in Younus’s and Thawab’s names when they’re old enough.”

  “Hmph,” Aliyah said, nodding, finding the whole scenario interesting. She wondered what it would mean for her and Jacob’s marriage.

  “But I was the breadwinner, obviously,” Jacob said. “She never had to pay any bills or buy any necessities,” he said. “For us or the boys.”

  “MashaAllah,” Aliyah said, unsure what else she could say.

  “But we didn’t put anything in writing about it,” Jacob said, sounding slightly disappointed. “It was just something she thought was best for both of us.” He grunted. “At least that’s what she said.”

  Aliyah was silent, unsure what to think about all of this.

  “But as far as the home is concerned,” Jacob said, “it worked out for the best.”

  “Alhamdulillah,” Aliyah muttered.

  “I’m assuming her lawyer will give her good advice,” Jacob said. “If that’s the case, then I doubt she’ll try anything like getting a key copy to my home.”

  “Her lawyer?” Aliyah asked, eyebrows furrowed. “I thought he was just representing her in her mother’s assault case.”

  “Well, he is…” Jacob said. “At least that’s the only representation that I agreed to pay for. But now that—”

  “You paid for her lawyer?” Aliyah interjected, surprised.

  There was a pause, as if Jacob was taken aback by the question. “Yes...why?”

  “MashaAllah, barakAllahufeek,” Aliyah said sincerely. “You have a big heart.”

  “Alhamdulillah,” he said, downplaying his generosity. “I just didn’t want her to know her father wasn’t exactly on her side throughout all this.”

  “She thinks her father’s paying for the lawyer?”

  “I think so,” Jacob said.

  “When’s the last time you talked to her?” Aliyah said.

  “That’s a hard one…” he said as if exhaling his words. “Because I’m not sure you can say we’ve talked at all since she’s been arrested.”

  “Really? But I thought—”

  “She became practically mute after what happened,” Jacob explained. “So we don’t really get to talk.”

  Presently, Aliyah got up from her office chair and leaned forward to power off her computer. She wondered, perhaps irrationally, if she there was any way she could check on Deanna to see how she was doing. Learning about her having suddenly become mute was deeply troubling, and that news alone made Aliyah feel bad for her. No, Aliyah wasn’t ready to forgive Deanna for all of her backstabbing and betrayals over the years, and she didn’t feel the least bit guilty for being married to Jacob right then. But she couldn’t deny that she still cared about Deanna as her Muslim sister.

  Whatever transformation was happening with Aliyah now that she was no longer suppressing her negative emotions and denying her right to her own feelings, she was pleasantly surprised that she was no longer plagued by the irrational notion that human beings were the personal property of the person they married—even when they were no longer married to the person. Allah certainly didn’t put that humiliating burden on His servants. Why then did they put it on themselves?

  Plus-minus Islam, she heard Salima’s voice in her head. It’s when Muslims add or take away things in Islam to suit their own purposes.

  Though Salima had been talking about LGBTQ beliefs and anti-polygyny sentiments, Aliyah saw how the same plus-minus mentality applied to the “friend codes” she’d held herself after Jacob divorced Deanna and wanted to marry her. Aliyah could understand being compassionate and respectful to your friend, but being compassionate and respectful was not the same as denying yourself the blessings that Allah had made lawful to you, seeking to please someone else.

  O Prophet! Why do you ban [for yourself] that which Allah has made lawful to you, seeking to please your wives? Allah asked in the Qur’an. Aliyah had read in the tafseer that this ayah was revealed in response to an incident when Prophet Muhammad had vowed to never eat a certain type of honey because he believed it changed the smell of his breath and thus displeased his wives.

  And right then, Aliyah’s heart asked the same question of herself, as well as her Muslim brothers and sisters, regarding whom Allah made lawful for them in marriage—seeking to please their friends and cultures.

  So no, Aliyah thought to herself, she wasn’t obligated to deny herself the joys of a lawful marriage to the man whom Allah had shown was right for her, especially in seeking to please the person who’d done everything in her power to strip that opportunity from her. If there’s any compassion and respect that I owe Deanna, Aliyah said to herself in firm resolve, it’s in not openly gloating about having married Jacob in the end, after all.

  ***

  “This is something I wrote a few years ago,” Kalimah said as she stood in front of the women Friday night at Muslim Marriage Monologues in Salima’s home.

  Aliyah couldn’t help thinking that Kalimah didn’t seem the least bit feisty. If anything, she seemed calm-spirited and gentle. She could almost feel the emotional pain Kalimah had battled after both losing her brother and withstanding emotional abuse from Muslims for doing nothing other than marrying for the sake of Allah.

  “And it’s really personal to me,” Kalimah said. “When I first wrote it, it was an angry entry in my diary after dealing with some really hurtful treatment from my brothers and sisters in Islam.” A reflective frown formed on her face, as if the memory alone still pained her.

  But Aliyah wondered if the pain was merely a memory for Kalimah. Perhaps the hu
rtful treatment was an ongoing experience for her.

  “I’d just come back from a Muslim conference,” Kalimah explained. “Something I’d paid good money for,” she added, her tone suggesting strong emotion for the first time. “And one of the brothers, a well-known and respected Muslim figure, was doing a marriage lecture during the main session.” She paused and shook her head, as if she still couldn’t believe what had happened. “And he did this really long tirade, blasting men who married another wife before they, quote, deserved to,” she said, a slight sneer in her voice.

  Kalimah drew in a deep breath and exhaled in preparation to recite the poem. “It’s called, ‘I Am Not a Good Job Sticker’…

  I am not a “good job” sticker in his life’s notebook,

  A trophy or award plaque on his wall,

  Or a badge of honor pinned to his chest,

  Telling the world that he was a good boy and “Job well done!”

  How dare you objectify me to a soulless object presented only when he’s done enough to prove he’s deserving of me.

  I suppose you imagine you are speaking for me when you say all those fancy things to discourage a man from taking another wife…

  Until he’s proven himself.

  Until he’s rich enough.

  Until he’s acceptable enough.

  Until he’s accomplished enough.

  Until he’s good enough.

  Oh, how I will meet you on the Day of Judgment and plead my case to my Lord, telling Him of how you robbed me of my humanity in this world.

  How you said the only woman with a soul is the one covered in the only part of the polygyny verse that happens to not exist: “One is best for you, if you only knew.”