His Other Wife

by Umm Zakiyyah

  Deanna was quiet momentarily. “I don’t like it,” she muttered, clenching her teeth momentarily. Bryan glanced at the clock as a shadow of impatience crossed his face, and Deanna could tell he felt she was wasting his time. “But if he agrees to it, I guess that’s fine.” She shook her head firmly. “As long as I’m not paying anything except lawyer fees.”

  ***

  Saturday morning Jacob was sitting in his home office, engrossed in making the final notations on his non-profit application when he heard the sound of pounding on his front door. He immediately wheeled his office chair back to the window behind him and peered outside. When he saw a FedEx truck idling in front of his house, he hurried downstairs before the driver could leave an attempted delivery notification.

  After signing on the electronic panel, Jacob closed the door and locked it with one hand and examined the package with the other. He creased his forehead as he saw the familiar name Attorney Bryan Schmidt and Associates on the return address label.

  He tore along the perforated strip in the cardboard and tossed the envelope on the front table as he pulled out the stack of papers. It was disappointing seeing Bryan Schmidt’s name and law office logo above his and Deanna’s names, but Jacob had expected as much. Who else would Deanna have found to represent her?

  Jacob had to read through the papers twice before he allowed himself to exhale in relief. A triumphant smile played at his lips as he returned the papers to the FedEx package then walked into the living room, where he fell on his knees and rested his head on the ground in the sajdah for gratefulness.

  He had felt a bit guilty for insisting on such overreaching terms in the divorce petition. He was not the least bit interested in taking a percentage of Deanna’s money or owning any of her business. In fact, he would have voluntarily forfeited any joint ownership in her business if he’d had it, without taking a single cent. He wanted nothing but freedom from the emotionally tortuous marriage while maintaining full custody of his sons. He was even willing to pay Deanna alimony for the rest of his life if that was the price tag attached to being free of her. “She can have anything she wants,” he’d told his lawyer, “as long as it’s not me.”

  But his lawyer had advised him that this wasn’t a sentiment that Jacob should put in writing. “Coming off as greedy and demanding is less risky than coming off as overly generous and desperate,” the lawyer had said. “So let’s reserve your diplomacy as a last resort. If she’s as narcissistic as you say she is, then it’ll never occur to her that you’re not the least bit interested in her money, business, or book proceeds. So she’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you out of her pocket, even if it means giving you uncontested custody of the children.”

  Jacob hadn’t been so sure about Deanna’s narcissism equaling her willingness to relinquish custody of Younus and Thawab. He’d assumed most narcissists used their children as both pawns in getting what they wanted and tools of punishment if their spouse no longer wanted to be married to them.

  “That’s only when their pride and ego are more valuable to them than their pockets,” the lawyer had explained. “So unless she’s in it for the fight itself, or as a personal vendetta against you, or she really does love her children more than she loves herself, she’ll want to minimize her lawyer fees and come to a quick agreement to protect her assets.”

  Jacob had no idea where Deanna’s ultimate values lay, but he knew that having custody of his children meant more to him than any wealth or assets. So that was one fight he was willing to take to the last penny in his pocket, or even debt, if it came to that.

  ***

  Deanna’s eyes shot open as she sat up in bed suddenly Saturday morning, feeling as if she’d been punched in the stomach. The aching had her bent over and clutching her abdomen as she let out a blood-curdling scream of anguish. The sound seemed to come from something feral and incorrigible. Even as her neck ached and the beastly sound burned her throat, she couldn’t stop the screaming. It was elongated and repetitive, dropping off in a horrible sobbing moan followed by a quick, audible inhalation of breath before picking up again full force.

  It wasn’t until she heard the insistent pounding, then her father’s demanding voice and the rattling of her locked door that she tried to remember where she was. In those first moments, she had no cognizance of being in any definite location. She’d only known that she was utterly and terribly alone, that heart-wrenching reality delivering a blow that was palpable in the gut. But even as she recognized her father’s angry voice, she felt as if she were in her prison cell but on the bed that she and Jacob had shared. Except Jacob was not there, and she knew with a certainty that pulsated in her veins that this was a tragedy that her own hands had brought forth. And she feared that God Himself was looking down on her with a sense of smug satisfaction for giving her exactly what she deserved.

  “Deanna, baby!” It was her mother’s voice now.

  But even as the reality of her surroundings slowly quieted the confusion of her mind, she couldn’t stop the screaming.

  The door banged open, slamming against the wall in a crash, the brass handle dangling off its screws. Then there was the sudden rushing of footfalls, and a moment later she was being rocked and squeezed so tightly that Deanna could barely catch her breath between screams.

  “It’s okay,” her mother consoled. “It was just a bad dream.” It was then that Deanna realized that her mother had left her own bed to come to her side. Though Kerri Michaels had regained full control of her limbs, she had been directed to remain on bed rest, only getting up when necessary.

  “What’s all this fuss about?” Barry demanded, a thick fold of annoyance between his brows.

  Deanna’s screams had died down, but she was sobbing inconsolably. Unable to stand the look of contempt on her father’s face, she laid her head on her mother’s chest and tried to catch her breath between sobs.

  “Why don’t you go on to bed, Barry?” Deanna heard her mother say, an edge of irritation in her tone.

  It wasn’t long before Deanna heard the retreating sound of his heavy footsteps and the clanking of her door against the frame. But she could tell by the sound of it that the door would need to be repaired before it could close properly.

  “Now tell Mommy what’s bothering you,” Kerri said, gently moving Deanna back so she could look her in the eye.

  The compassionate way her mother asked the question sent Deanna into a fit of sobs again.

  “It’s okay,” Kerri said, patting Deanna’s shoulders gently and squeezing her again. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

  “I want—” Deanna’s high-pitched voice came out as a pitiful whine that was interrupted by the sudden need to inhale. “I want—” she tried again. But she sounded more pitiful than before, as if she were a child just learning to speak.

  “What do you want, baby?” Kerri said, gently pushing Deanna back until they made eye contact again.

  “I want…” Deanna spoke slowly, giving herself time to suck in her breath then exhale slowly. “…to be...” Inhale, exhale. “…a better person.”

  ***

  “So that’s it?” Aliyah asked, a confused but pleased expression on her face. “If she signs it, the marriage is dissolved?”

  “That’s what it looks like.”

  It was Saturday afternoon, and Aliyah and Jacob sat on a quilt in the backyard of his home as Younus, Thawab, and Ibrahim played a war game that Aliyah couldn’t quite figure out. Freshly fallen leaves scattered the grass around them and cushioned the ground beneath them. The air was cool but comfortable with an occasional chilly breeze. Jacob wore a thin black leather jacket and Aliyah a dark green button-up sweater over her shoulder abaya and matching khimaar.

  Aliyah didn’t know how she felt about the news. In a way, it made her sad because it reminded her of when she’d gotten a divorce from Matt. That sinking feeling of suffocating loneliness was something she’d never forget. Any time she heard of someone getting a divorce, she felt herself ge
tting a little choked up.

  “May Allah make it easy for her,” Aliyah muttered just above a whisper, swallowing the lump in her throat.

  She felt Jacob looking at her, an odd expression on his face.

  “What?” she said, self-conscious laughter in her voice as she met his gaze.

  “Did you just make du’aa for Deanna?” There was a smirk on his face, as if he were about to make fun of her.

  She averted her gaze and shrugged, the shadow of an embarrassed smile forming on one side of her mouth. “Yes, why not? Divorce is horrible. I don’t wish it on anyone.”

  “It doesn’t feel horrible to me,” Jacob said. “I’m actually pretty excited, to be honest,” he said. “And I certainly wish it on me and Deanna.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” Aliyah said quietly, unsure how to put her thoughts into words. “I just remember how it felt, that’s all.”

  Jacob nodded thoughtfully, squinting his eyes toward the boys. He was quiet for so long that Aliyah feared that she had offended him.

  “I make du’aa for her too,” Jacob said finally, his gaze still looking out over his yard. “It’s good to know I’m not the only one.” He turned his head and smiled at Aliyah. “But I still want the divorce.”

  “I do too,” she said, smiling because she didn’t know what else to do. It all felt so awkward, and exhilarating. It was difficult to believe that in just a week’s time, they might be able to actually start building their lives together without the constraints of social discretion. Yet her former best friend would be suffering through their happiness. And though there was the empathy for what Deanna would be going through, there was the freeing heartfelt conviction that Deanna’s suffering was not hers to bear.

  “Will you come live with me once the divorce is final?” Jacob said, his thumb rubbing the back of Aliyah’s hand that was on the quilt next to him.

  Her instinct was to pull her hand away out of fear that someone would see them, but his touch was so comforting that she kept her hand right where it was. His touch was a soft, cool warmness that matched the autumn scene around them, but it incited a firestorm inside her. Her heart raced wildly, and she found herself catching her breath though she did everything she could to mask her weakening resolve.

  “Maybe…” It was the only thing she trusted herself to intelligibly utter right then. Anything else would betray the dizzying desire she was trying to quell.

  The flat of Jacob’s palm moved to the back of her hand as he continued the massage. Aliyah closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the moment, a smile lingering on her face, her face lifted slightly toward the sky.

  “Come with me,” Jacob’s deep voice said in her ear. A moment later, he was on his feet, tugging at her hand.

  “But…” Aliyah said as she opened her eyes and stumbled to her feet, unable to keep from giggling in self-conscious excitement. As she trailed only slightly behind him as he gripped her hand and walked toward the house, she felt like a schoolgirl about to cut class for the first time. But she trusted her experienced guide, and her heart pounded with such fierce anticipation that she imagined there wasn’t anything he could ask from her right then that she wouldn’t give.

  “Don’t worry,” Jacob said, a smile in his voice as he guided her through the house and up the stairs and down the hall. But there was no need for the warning. Aliyah was not worried, even as he stopped in front of his room to gaze at Aliyah a moment more, a mischievous grin on his face. Though her heart would not steady to a normal rhythm and she couldn’t hold his gaze for long, she’d never felt safer and more at ease in her adult life.

  When Jacob reached behind her to push open his office door instead of the door across the hall, Aliyah knew he just wanted to spend some time alone together, away from the children. And this made her resolve even weaker, knowing that he was doing everything to respect her wishes.

  After pulling her inside, he closed the door and locked it. “Relax,” he told her as he held her face in his hands. “I’ll never do anything you’re not ready for.” Then he slipped his arms around the waist of her sweater, and he held her tighter than he ever had before, and she relaxed in his possessive embrace. He kissed her softly at first, then expressed the same fire of passion that Aliyah was battling right then. It was only a matter of seconds before the flame erupted in her, and she eagerly returned his affections.

  Aliyah felt his hand trace the fabric of her khimaar, and a second later, she heard his deep voice in her ear. “Why don’t you trust me?”

  “Wh-at?” Because she was having trouble catching her breath, the question came out in two syllables.

  He pulled his head back until they were looking into each other’s eyes, then he smoothed down the cloth of her headscarf again. “Why don’t you trust me?” he said again. “You always wear hijab and jilbaab around me.”

  Aliyah averted her gaze, and her cheeks grew warm in embarrassment. It was something she’d hoped they wouldn’t have to talk about. But for some time, she sensed his confusion, and perhaps even offense, at her remaining fully covered in his presence. Initially, she’d told herself it was because their children didn’t yet know of their marriage. But now she knew it was something else, and she had a pretty good idea what was inspiring the discomfort.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, flustered and ashamed, eyes still averted. A minute passed in silence between them, and Aliyah could feel him looking at her. But she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye.

  “Is it something I did to make you uncomfortable?” she heard him ask, concern and apology etched in his voice.

  Aliyah took a step back from him as she shook her head. “No, nothing like that.”

  She felt him reluctantly let go of her, his arms dropping to his sides as she turned away from him and walked toward his office desk.

  “Then what is it, sweetness?”

  Aliyah’s heart softened at the term of endearment. He’d never used a nickname for her before. She pulled out his office chair and lowered herself into it, offering him a polite but distant smile as she looked at him. “It’s not a big deal,” she said, but she didn’t even sound convincing to herself. “It’s nothing you did.”

  “Is this something you want to wait for too?” he asked, genuine curiosity in his tone. “Because I don’t mind. I just want to make sure it’s not something I’ve done.”

  “It’s not that,” she said. “It’s just…” She searched her mind for the right way to explain the truth without incriminated herself. Self-conscious, she coughed laughter. “…I don’t know. It’s just…” She drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “…two things, I guess.”

  “What two things?” Jacob said, walking over to her and standing directly in front of her so that she had to look up at him.

  “Well… Matt…” As soon as she uttered his name, she felt self-conscious all over again.

  “What did he do?” Jacob’s voice rose, the instinctive male protectiveness surfacing.

  “Nothing,” Aliyah said quickly. “He just didn’t like my hair, so…”

  Jacob contorted his face as if that was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

  “…I guess I’m just a little self-conscious about it, that’s all.”

  “Well, you don’t have to feel like that around me,” Jacob assured her.

  “I know,” Aliyah said, laughter in her voice, averting her eyes again. “But it wasn’t just Matt…”

  “What do you mean?” The male protectiveness was in his voice again, as if preparing to come to her defense in response to anyone who’d dared to hurt her.

  “It was Deanna too,” she said finally, unable to look at him. “She said I didn’t know how to take care of myself.” There was embarrassed laughter in her tone. “And that part of the reason that Matt wanted Nikki was because her hair looked better than mine.”

  “What?”

  “And that since she had good hair, she never had to worry about problems like that with you in her m
arriage.”

  Jacob huffed. Aliyah hesitantly looked at him and saw that his face was twisted in upset.

  “She actually said that your hair had made Matt want another wife?”

  Aliyah chuckled self-consciously. Now that it was spoken aloud, it did sound ridiculous. “Yes…” But as ridiculous as it sounded, Aliyah couldn’t shake the feeling of insecurity that the memory incited. “And that she’d never have that problem with you.”

  There was an extended silence as Jacob seemed to gather his thoughts. “Sweetness…” Jacob said softly as he lowered himself until he was kneeling in front of Aliyah so that she had to look down at him. Using both hands, he gently squeezed her legs above the knee, and this relaxed Aliyah somewhat. Even over the fabric of her abaya, his hands felt warm. “...listen to me.”

  Aliyah held his gaze to let him know he had her attention, but it was difficult not to look away.

  “The love that Allah has put in my heart for you is something that is beyond my control,” he said.

  Aliyah lowered her eyes momentarily before meeting his gaze again.

  “It’s something I prayed to Allah to help me fight,” Jacob said, “and it’s something I tried to fight myself for years. So even if I wanted to, I don’t have the power to remove from my heart what I feel for you.”

  He offered her a gentle smile. “When I saw you at that MSA dinner,” he said, “it wasn’t your hair or body that drew me to you. Because I couldn’t see either,” he explained. “It was your spirit and character.”

  Aliyah’s cheeks grew warm, and she averted her gaze again.

  “But maa-shaa-Allaah,” he said, gripping her hands and squeezing them affectionately as he elongated each syllable, his voice rising in emphasis with each sound. “There isn’t a woman I met before or after Islam who is more physically beautiful to me than you.”