His Other Wife

by Umm Zakiyyah

  “When people want advice, Aliyah,” Reem said, her voice didactic, “it’s usually because their whole predicament is alarming. Seeking advice is always a warning sign for something bad.”

  Aliyah pulled her head back in surprise. “A warning sign?” she repeated in humored disbelief. “No, Reem,” she corrected, intentionally making her didactic tone mirror Reem’s. “When people want advice, it’s usually because they want advice. End of story.”

  “Not for an Arab,” Reem said.

  Feeling exhausted all of a sudden, Aliyah exhaled impatiently in a single huff. “We’re not going to do this right now,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I was in the middle of working with my son on a homeschool assignment when you came.” She slapped her hands on her thighs and stood. “And I’d like to continue that undisturbed if you don’t mind,” she said, walking toward the front door.

  In the foyer, Aliyah pulled the front door open and held it so that Reem would know she had to leave. “If I hear anything else from Mashael, I’ll let you know insha’Allah,” she said. “But for now, my hunch is that she’s married and trying to live her life in peace. I imagine that she’ll be reaching out to you soon to let you know that she’s okay.” She added, “As I honestly believe she is.”

  “And if she’s not?” Reem said challengingly as she pulled her niqaab back over her face and walked over to the front door. Her voice still carried the accusatory tone from earlier, as if this was all Aliyah’s fault.

  “Then all we can do is pray to Allah for her safe return,” Aliyah said sincerely, a tinge compassion in her exhausted tone. “And if something terrible has happened, it’s nobody’s fault, Reem. Remember that.”

  ***

  Later that night after Ibrahim had gone to bed, Aliyah sat on the prayer mat on the floor of her bedroom, feeling emotionally and mentally exhausted. She’d just finished praying two units of voluntary prayer and was reflecting on her brief encounter with Reem, which had left her a bit annoyed though Reem had apologized before she left and asked Aliyah to forgive her for her outburst.

  “I’m just so worried about her,” Reem had said, her voice full of emotion.

  Aliyah imagined that Reem must be going through a lot of emotional pain herself to have repeated angry outbursts like the one she had earlier—and like the one she’d had months ago when she canceled their Qur’an class. In many ways, Reem reminded Aliyah of Deanna. Both seemed to allow their personal battles to disrupt their relationships with friends and family. But of course, Deanna’s disruption had a much more sinister component.

  Could I end up like that? Aliyah wondered in pensive self-reflection. She herself was battling a lot of emotional pain and was finding her patience waning in her dealings with other people. Perhaps her pain had already begun to disrupt her relationships with others and she just didn’t realize it.

  Her phone vibrated from where it lay on the nightstand next to her bed, interrupting her thoughts. Sighing, she pushed herself to a standing position and pulled the one-piece floral prayer garment over her head. She balled up the cloth and tossed it on her desk chair as she walked over to the nightstand and picked up the phone. She slid her forefinger across the screen to unlock it then tapped in the passcode so she could read Jacob’s full text.

  You still awake?

  A smile creased the corners of her mouth and she quickly tapped her finger on the keyboard in reply.

  Yes. Why?

  I just miss you, that’s all

  <3

  Can I call you? Or is it too late?

  Aliyah started to type, It’s never too late for you, then erased it, fearing it was too forward at the moment. You can call, she typed finally. I’m up.

  “This year is going by really slowly,” Jacob said, as if exhaling the words when Aliyah answered her mobile phone on the first ring. Aliyah could hear the smile in his voice.

  In the loose, faded blue knee-length cotton tee that she favored at bedtime and with her hair frizzy and in need of grooming, Aliyah didn’t particularly feel like a heartbreaker. But as she pulled back the heavy comforter and climbed into bed, the phone held against her ear with her free hand, she felt like the most beautiful woman in the world, if for no other reason than Jacob’s deep voice made her feel that way.

  “How long do we have left?” he said, his voice heavy in impatient longing.

  Aliyah giggled flirtatiously. It was the first he’d mentioned of the difficulty he was having with the extended wait, and she was relieved to know that she wasn’t the only one. There had been fleeting moments, albeit irrational, that she’d begun to fear that Jacob wasn’t as attracted to her as she’d initially thought.

  “About ten months, I think,” she said, a smile in her voice as she pulled the phone from her ear and tapped the speakerphone icon. He groaned in playful annoyance, the guttural sound coming out as a deep bass, the speaker giving the utterance an almost music-like quality. Heart racing, Aliyah wondered why she hadn’t thought to propose the option of birth control instead of this extended, torturous waiting.

  “Seriously?” Jacob sounded genuinely surprised, lighthearted disappointment in his voice. “That long?”

  That was when Aliyah remembered that this extended celibacy was what she herself had wanted, and in fact insisted on. Up until the nikaah itself, she hadn’t even allowed herself to believe that she wanted to be married. How then could she have known that her three- to five-year “preferred” wait time was as preposterous as her initial preference not to marry Jacob at all?

  “You giving up so soon?” she asked teasingly. But what she really wanted to say was, “I feel like giving up too.” But how could she admit that the now extensively reduced one-year time frame was unbearable too? She wanted to maintain at least a shred of female dignity, but how could she do that if she were the first to give in?

  “No…” Jacob said in a thoughtful sigh, as if resigning himself to patience. “I waited this long to be with you, I can wait another ten months.” He huffed, humor in that sound. “But I’m telling you, it’s not easy.”

  “Really?” Aliyah teased. “You seem to be doing fine.”

  He coughed laughter. “I’m trying to be strong for you. I just don’t want to mess this up.”

  His honesty was refreshing and moving. With that confession alone, she felt connected to him more strongly than before. Aliyah hesitated before saying, “I don’t think you could mess this up, no matter what happens.” She bit her lower lip nervously, wondering if he caught the hint.

  There was a thoughtful pause. “Even if my ex-wife came back acting like a raving maniac?” There was self-conscious humor in his tone.

  Hopes deflated with mention of Deanna, Aliyah sighed in disappointment. But she knew Jacob wasn’t trying to be a killjoy. His reason for mentioning his ex-wife was likely the same reason for his weathering the storm of the extended wait. Aliyah had made a big deal about both. She’d practically told Jacob that Deanna’s contentment with their marriage was a prerequisite to her own. So naturally, Jacob would want to gauge Aliyah’s feelings about Deanna storming back into his life.

  But still, it was annoying to hear any mention of her. Right then, Aliyah couldn’t care less whether or not Deanna tried to come back into Jacob’s life, calmly or raving. Aliyah wasn’t going anywhere insha’Allah, regardless of what tricks Deanna thought she had up her sleeve.

  “Insha’Allah, we’ll cross that bridge once its laid,” Aliyah said, her calm resolve veiling her irritation with the topic.

  “It’s already been laid,” Jacob said, slight humor in his tone. “We just didn’t get to it yet. But I think we’re fast approaching.”

  “Why? Because she’s been released?” Aliyah’s tone suggested genuine curiosity, but she really wished they could talk about something else.

  “Not only that…” The extended pause suggested that Jacob was trying to find the best way to put his thoughts into words. “She was served the divorce papers after she got home from jail.” />
  Oh.

  In her mind’s eye, Aliyah saw Deanna’s face twisted in indignant disgust as she used her thumb and forefinger to leaf through the papers as if they were contaminated.

  “The way to keep a man from marrying someone else is you keep the subject of divorce and polygamy out of your marriage,” Deanna had told Aliyah when Aliyah was still naïve enough to view her as both friendly and wise. “Jacob would never marry another woman because I don’t give him any reason to…I take care of myself. I give him sex every night. I pamper him…”

  The memory was almost heartbreakingly sad right then, and Aliyah found herself feeling sorry for Deanna. How many other women—and men—suffered from this “God complex”? How many married couples genuinely believed that their ostensibly healthy, lasting, committed relationships were due to their hands alone? Yet how many of these same people were so fixated on bragging about their “long, happy marriage” that they were tragically blind to the daily emotional suffering of their husband or wife—at their own hands?

  O Allah! Aliyah silently prayed, moving her lips and bowing her head in humility as trepidation gripped her. Protect me from self-deception!

  ***

  “So you decided to keep your job at the college?”

  It was a Saturday morning in early October, and Salima sat in the restaurant booth across from Aliyah where they’d often met before, and today Aliyah had accepted Salima’s request to get together for breakfast. Ibrahim and Haroon were in the play area enjoying themselves, having eaten at home before they came.

  Aliyah smiled self-consciously as she pulled a grape from the bundle on her plate and slipped it into her mouth. After chewing and swallowing, she nodded. “It’s crazy, isn’t it? All that time I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom again, and now that I have the opportunity, I throw it away.”

  “I wouldn’t call it throwing it away,” Salima said. “Ibrahim is homeschooled,” she said. “But he’s not technically home.”

  “That’s true…” Aliyah said, feeling better about it when Salima put it that way.

  “And sometimes the biggest stress of working fulltime is knowing you have to go in,” Salima said, “no matter what.”

  There was a shadow of sadness on Salima’s face that made Aliyah’s heart hurt. She sincerely hoped that Salima would remarry one day and have the same psychological freedom that Aliyah had right then.

  Aliyah nodded. “I think that’s what was happening with me. I felt like I didn’t have a choice.” She coughed laughter. “And having my husband as my superior certainly helps.”

  Salima laughed in agreement. “Especially when you know he’s in your corner.”

  Aliyah watched the boys race up the side of the jungle gym then dangle upside down, their knees locked in place, keeping them steady as they swayed their bodies back and forth.

  “And Ibrahim’s a fast learner, mashaAllah,” Aliyah said, smiling toward him as she spoke. “And he’s really independent. I think I would’ve quit if he was struggling academically. I couldn’t live with myself if I kept my job when he needed all of my energy when he got home.”

  Salima smiled knowingly at Aliyah. “And you like your job,” she said.

  Aliyah nodded, chuckling. “Yes, I do.” She shrugged. “I don’t like my supervisor and some of my colleagues, but I love my students. And I love teaching.”

  “Then that’s all that matters.”

  Aliyah ate a few more grapes as she and Salima watched the boys for a few minutes. “I reapplied to my old PhD program,” Aliyah said.

  “Really?” Salima’s voice rose in excitement as her eyes met Aliyah’s. “That’s really good mashaAllah.”

  “I figured, why not? Now that I’m a fulltime employee, the college will pay for it.”

  “When will you know if they accepted you?”

  “In a few weeks, insha’Allah,” Aliyah said. “My old advisor said it’s just formality at this point since I was already accepted before.”

  “MashaAllah,” Salima said, shaking her head in admiration. “Maybe one day…” she said, referring to herself.

  Aliyah creased her forehead as she looked at Salima. “What’s going on with you and Larry? Did you get together again after that dinner at Jacob’s?”

  The barely restrained grin that formed on Salima’s face told Aliyah everything she needed to know.

  “We’ve talked…” Salima said tentatively.

  “Okay,” Aliyah said, nodding and smiling. “You don’t have to say anymore. Just tell me when the wedding date is.”

  Salima laughed.

  “But I swear,” Aliyah said, humor in her tone, “after that dinner, I feared you’d run the other way.”

  “Why?” Salima seemed genuinely surprised.

  “All that talk about women and careers and subliminal messages.”

  “Oh that.” Salima laughed and flipped her hand. “That’s actually what made me take him more seriously.”

  “Really?” Aliyah said good-naturedly, eyebrows raised.

  “It’s refreshing to meet a man who’s just honest,” Salima said. “So many try to think up the right things to say to women, and it’s so annoying. Almost every man would agree with everything Larry said, but they won’t admit it. It’s like they’re constantly looking over their shoulder to check if their opinions about women and family fit the status quo or some political feminist agenda.”

  Aliyah nodded. “He’s definitely honest, mashaAllah.”

  “But we’ll see where it goes, insha’Allah.” That initial grin returned to Salima’s face.

  “How’s Kalimah doing?” Aliyah asked, remembering Mikaeel’s sister just then. “Did she enjoy her visit?”

  “She did actually…” Salima said, the smile on her face suggesting that she was enjoying a private joke.

  Aliyah ate in silence for several seconds, mulling over whether or not she had a right to speak her thoughts aloud. “Why didn’t you stop her?” she said finally, genuine curiosity in her tone. “When she was arguing with that sister?”

  “Stop her?” Salima spoke as if it were the most farfetched concept in the world. “Why would I?”

  Aliyah shrugged, unsure if she had the right words for what was on her heart. “It just felt like it was a bit much, you know? That sister probably went home really shaken and hurt.”

  “I agree,” Salima said, lifted a shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “And if she did, that was her own doing, not Kalimah’s.”

  Aliyah drew her eyebrows together, a curious smile on her face. “You don’t think Kalimah’s reaction was a bit over the top?”

  “No. I don’t,” Salima said, but Aliyah could tell Salima’s defensiveness was directed at the topic, not at Aliyah herself. “Kalimah had every right to say what she did, and how she did.” There wasn’t even a hint of ambivalence or doubt in Salima’s tone. “I wish more sisters in polygyny had her guts.”

  “You don’t think it was rude and disrespectful?”

  Salima contorted her face slightly. “Not as rude and disrespectful as the question itself,” she said. “If you’re a stranger openly making assumptions about someone’s marriage, you deserve any tongue lashing that comes your way. And I certainly am not going to intervene in your defense.”

  Aliyah nodded, having not considered it from that perspective. “But maybe the sister felt comfortable expressing her opinion because of the relaxed atmosphere of Muslim Marriage Monologues?”

  Salima huffed, a smirk on her face. “No,” she corrected. “The sister felt comfortable expressing her opinion because it was against polygyny.” She huffed again. “Like I felt comfortable expressing mine to keep my husband from spending time with his own sister and brother-in-law.”

  At that, Aliyah grew quiet, reminded of the deep emotional scars that Salima was suffering after losing her husband and realizing the wrongs she’d done to his sister.

  “If anything,” Salima said, “Kalimah was being nice. If you compare her strong reaction to the bull
she has to put up with from Muslims every day, it’s no comparison. We’re definitely ruder and more disrespectful, hands down,” she said. “It’s just that our point of view is more widely accepted, so we don’t have to take responsibility for our cruelty.”

  Aliyah was immediately reminded of her uncle Benjamin talking about the hypocrisy of American Muslim culture.

  “It’s like telling African-Americans to stop getting so upset about racism,” Salima said. “That’s an easy suggestion when you don’t have to suffer from it every day.” There was an expression of distaste on her face. “Or when you don’t have to worry about being handcuffed, thrown into the back of a police car, and spending the rest of your life in prison,” she said. “Or getting your brains blown out just for looking suspicious.”

  Aliyah was quiet as she considered the analogy.

  “Just like all the discussions surrounding race in this country are watered down so as to not offend the very ones who put the system of racism in place,” Salima said, “all our discussions surrounding marriage in the Muslim community are designed to sustain a system of mistreatment and marginalization of brothers and sisters in polygyny.” She grimaced. “And we want to pretend like we’re doing this for some greater good.” She huffed. “When it comes to our beliefs about marriage, it’s a shame that homosexuals have more honesty and self-respect than we do.”

  Aliyah didn’t know what to say to that.

  “So, no.” Salima shook her head, her expression conveying conviction. “I’m not worried about that sister’s feelings. Call me insensitive, but if I were going to feel bad for anyone, it would be Kalimah,” she said. “At worst, that other sister went home feeling offended. But Kalimah probably went home feeling unwelcome amongst the Muslims. And that’s far, far worse.”

  Aliyah nodded. “I see what you mean,” she said sincerely.

  “The sister should be grateful to Kalimah,” Salima said. “Sometimes the only way we learn is to be confronted head-on about our wrongdoing, especially when it’s about our faith.”