His Other Wife

by Umm Zakiyyah

Can I ride with you to N’s aqeeqah? My car’s in the shop till tomorrow and Jamil can’t take me.

  Aliyah was sitting next to Ibrahim in his room early Sunday afternoon, helping him with his reading and math when she unlocked her phone and stared at Salima’s cryptic text. Nearly a full minute passed before she realized that Salima was most likely talking about the ‘aqeeqah for Nikki’s baby. But that didn’t make any sense because Aliyah was the godmother (“Ummi”) and she’d heard nothing about the event.

  Nikki’s aqeeqah??? Aliyah texted back.

  Yes.

  Today?!

  Yes. Did you get FB invite?

  Oh. Facebook. That would explain why she didn’t know. Haven’t been on in a while, Aliyah replied.

  masjid @ 3

  Aliyah sighed. She and Ibrahim had made a lot of headway today, and she didn’t want to interrupt that by leaving in the middle of their homeschooling work. He still had Qur’an homework to complete before tomorrow. But how would it look if she didn’t show up or at least bring Ibrahim to his own sister’s ‘aqeeqah?

  Ok. ETA 2:30, Aliyah texted, already standing in preparation to get dressed and pick up Salima and Haroon.

  ***

  The massive home of Mr. and Mrs. Bivens was surrounded by a tall iron fence that framed the peripheral of their expansive 10-acre land. Neatly trimmed evergreens stretched the length of their property and lined the winding driveway that led to the gated entrance. Two stone statues of growling lions sat on either side of the gate, the call box wedged into the side of the left one.

  Deanna slowed her car to a stop as the driver’s side window slid down. She reached out the window and punched in the code that she had memorized years ago. The automatic gate squeaked as the right and left sides opened wide as if welcoming an honored guest. A twinge of anguish stabbed her as she realized that this was no longer her family, and she wondered how long it would be before they changed the key code so she could no longer come unannounced.

  It’s the small things, she’d always heard, that you miss most when a relationship falls apart. And that moment was the first that she understood what that meant. Jacob had been the first and only real relationship in her life. Listen to your body, and listen to your heart, her therapist had advised when she was in high school trying to heal from the trauma of Bailey’s rape. Though it was on prom night that she’d followed that advice for the first time, it wasn’t until she’d met Jacob that her soul was awakened too.

  “I don’t see any reason why Muslims can’t have the best of both worlds,” Jacob had said during his speech at the MSA career day event that Deanna attended when she’d seen him speak for the first time. She didn’t often attend MSA events because her doctorate degree work took up most of her time. But when she’d overheard, more than once, some of the female students speak in admiration of a “Professor Jacob Bivens” who was a convert to Islam, Deanna’s curiosity was piqued, so she made it a point to attend the next event in which he was slotted to be a speaker. “We pray for Allah to give us the best in this world and the best in the Hereafter,” he’d said during that speech. “So why should we settle for less than the best in anything that we do?” Those were the words that had stayed with Deanna. So why should we settle for less than the best?

  After the speech was over, swarms of students had walked up to him and eagerly introduced themselves and told him how much they’d enjoyed his talk. Though Deanna had been no less eager to introduce herself and meet the charismatic adjunct professor, she hung back, watching from a distance. When she saw how Jacob merely shook their hands or nodded politely before going on to greet the next person, Deanna knew this was not the right time or place to show herself. She needed his undivided attention. She needed him to focus on her and her alone. She needed him to remember her. She needed him to want her. Why should I settle for less? she asked herself.

  On the days that followed, she’d registered as an official member of the MSA and signed up for the email list so she would get alerts whenever they were having events. She also looked up the university’s roster for adjunct professors and learned which classes Jacob was teaching. Then she made it a point to go to each one before it ended if she didn’t have a class herself. But she wouldn’t enter the classroom or lecture hall itself. She would wait outside until the crowds of students spilled out the door and watch where Jacob went after class each day. That was how she’d learned where he liked to study and eat, and when.

  His favorite spot was a relatively unpopular food court on a part of campus that was far from the residential halls, student center, and buildings where most of the classes were held. The only significant part of campus that was near his favored food court was an old library that few students frequented unless they couldn’t find what they were looking for in the large, renovated library in the middle of campus. The food court itself was located in the small welcome center near the campus’s main entrance, a center most students and faculty never entered, as it was mainly for prospective students and their parents who wanted general information about the school or for visitors or students who lived off campus and needed directions to a specific building or event.

  It was the perfect place, Deanna had thought when she first saw him enter the building. She watched from afar as he left his books and notebooks on an empty table and went to order himself some food. But it would be a month before Deanna actually walked up to him and introduced herself. She had been waiting for the right pretext to strike up a conversation, and merely saying her name and talking about herself was not enough. She needed a reason for them to see each other again and spend time together. When she received the MSA email announcement about the dinner, she knew it was the perfect opportunity. She could simply ask if he was going and find a way to convince him to go if he hadn’t planned to attend. That way they could get to know each other at the dinner.

  “Who was that sister with the book?”

  Deanna grimaced as she slammed the driver’s side door closed and pointed the keychain remote toward her car. She pressed the button to lock the vehicle before walking up the paved pathway leading to Jacob’s parents’ front door.

  The memory of that single question still stung as she remembered the unmistakable contrived casualness in his voice as he pretended that neither the inquiry nor the answer meant anything to him. Deanna had known exactly whom he was talking about when he asked the question, and she’d felt a fire of offense at both his audacity and Aliyah’s. How dare him ask her about another woman when she was the one who’d invited him that night. And how dare Aliyah draw attention to herself by leaning against a wall and reading a book. Deanna had begun to wonder if Aliyah had planned the whole thing until she recalled that she hadn’t told anyone that Jacob was coming.

  “What sister?” Deanna had asked him, mustering all her strength to keep from giving him a piece of her mind and schooling him on how rude it was to talk about another woman in her presence.

  “You were talking to her when you were getting our plates,” he’d said. “She had on a green hijab.”

  Presently, Deanna’s nose flared. A man remembering the color of anything a woman wore was always a bad sign, at least when it wasn’t Deanna he was noticing. So Deanna had known exactly what it meant when Jacob mentioned the color of Aliyah’s hijab. He was attracted to Aliyah and wanted to get to know her instead of Deanna. Deanna hadn’t taken Jacob to be a man of poor tastes. But a man was a man, and thus susceptible to foolishness every now and then. But why should he have to settle for less than the best when Deanna was right there? Jacob deserved someone like Deanna, and Deanna was going to do everything in her power to make sure he understood the flimsy, broken package he would be getting with someone like Aliyah.

  Apologize to Aliyah.

  At the memory of the scraggly note atop her “to do” list, Deanna felt nauseated. What had she been thinking when she wrote that? Was she out of her mind? Was she really to be blamed for simply fulfilling her Islamic responsibility of warning
a person before they chose a bad match for marriage?

  No, there was no way she was going to allow herself to feel bad for anything she’d said about Aliyah or to Aliyah. That girl was so horribly needy and pathetic that Aliyah should be thanking Deanna for even being her friend. The task was so painstaking and time consuming.

  Right now, Deanna thought as she lifted her forefinger and pressed the doorbell, I’m focusing on making amends with Jacob and Jacob alone.

  ***

  “I’m working on him,” Jasmine said, smirking as she cut a slice from her waffle and lifted it to her mouth.

  “But you said you told Larry you converted to Islam,” Mr. Bivens said, leaning back in his chair from where he sat at the head of the dining room table of his home. His wife sat at an angle to his right, Jasmine to his left. Only three of the other five chairs were filled—by his wife’s sister, Sadie, and her husband who sat across from each other, and by the reverend, a close friend of the family, who sat at the other end, opposite Mr. Bivens.

  “I did,” Jasmine said after she chewed and swallowed.

  “Then how are you still working on him?” Mr. Bivens said doubtfully.

  Jasmine grew uncomfortable under his cautious gaze.

  “If Larry thinks you’ve joined his religion,” Mr. Bivens continued, “I don’t see how that will help him come back to the church.”

  The ringing of the doorbell sounded throughout the house, but they ignored it and continued eating, as the maid usually answered the door. Jasmine figured it was probably someone from the Bivens’s family or close friends, as it was not uncommon for someone to stop by and visit after church even if they had been unable to attend the entire Sunday brunch.

  “I figured it doesn’t make much of a difference to them what I am,” Jasmine said, choosing her words carefully. “A Christian and a Muslim are pretty much the same religion according to them. So I think of it as an interfaith experiment.”

  The reverend coughed laughter. “A Christian and a Muslim are pretty much the same religion?” he repeated. “How’s that?”

  Jasmine smiled, pleased that she had the reverend’s attention. Because it was the church Larry and his family attended, she had been baptized in the reverend’s church shortly after her and Larry’s relationship grew serious. “They say Muslim means anyone who submits to God.”

  The reverend nodded but waved his hand as if dismissing her comment. “I know what they say the word Muslim means,” he said. “I’m asking how you can believe they’re the same religion?”

  “I don’t believe they’re the same religion,” Jasmine said, gesturing a forefinger toward herself, emphasizing the personal pronoun. “But Muslims say they’re the original Christians.” She forced laugher. “And the original Jews.”

  The reverend and the other guests at the table coughed laughter and huffed their disapproval, offense in that sound.

  “Do you wear that…” Mr. Bivens interjected, making a circular motion around his head, apparently unable to remember the word.

  “Hijab?” Jasmine finished for him, her voice rising in eagerness to respond. “Yes, sometimes,” she said. But she wasn’t wearing it today. “It makes them feel more comfortable if you look like them.”

  “So you’re still Christian then?” the reverend said, his eyebrows drawn together.

  “Of course,” Jasmine said. “I just think it’s—”

  “Deanna,” Mr. Bivens said, his voice rising as he stood suddenly, his legs banging the table in front of him, causing his plate with half-eaten food to rattle slightly. A wide, awkward smile spread on his face as he stretched out his right arm in an exaggerated gesture of welcome.

  Jasmine felt her blood go cold. The Bivens Sunday brunch after church was the last place she would expect to see another Muslim. Chest constricted in apprehension, Jasmine slowly turned in her seat and followed Mr. Bivens’s line of vision. For a fleeting moment, Jasmine felt relieved that it wasn’t Deanna after all. But the woman responded to Mr. Bivens’s greeting with a polite smile and nod, her eyes cutting at Jasmine in disapproval. That was when Jasmine recognized Deanna’s familiar features, though something about Deanna seemed off.

  It wasn’t until Deanna had sat down at the table near the reverend that Jasmine realized why she didn’t recognize Deanna right away. Deanna wasn’t wearing her hijab. The realization gave her some relief, as she wondered momentarily whether or not she and Deanna were in the same predicament. But then she remembered that Deanna wasn’t in any predicament. Deanna had already married into the Bivens family and had been welcomed for more than ten years.

  Why then wasn’t Deanna wearing her hijab?

  “To what special occasion do we owe the pleasure of this visit?” Mrs. Bivens chimed, a pleasant but demanding expression on her face.

  “I’m not here to interrupt anything,” Deanna said, and Jasmine noticed that Deanna sounded as if she had just gotten her voice back after a bout of laryngitis. Deanna flicked her eyes at Jasmine suspiciously, and Jasmine looked away and clumsily picked up her fork, deciding to focus her attention on finishing the food on her plate.

  “Here.” Still standing, Mr. Bivens reached forward and moved his fingers in a gesture to tell Deanna to pass him the unused plate in front of her. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

  Looking a bit uncomfortable, Deanna lifted the glass plate and handed it to him and let him put some food on it before passing it to his wife, who eagerly added some other food items from her seat as her husband sat down and pulled his chair back in place in front of the table. Their nervous movement told Jasmine that she was not the only one who hadn’t expected Deanna’s visit today.

  “Thank you,” Deanna murmured as she accepted the plate full of food from Mrs. Bivens and set it down on the place in front of her.

  “Are you rejoining the church too?” The reverend addition of the word too prompted Jasmine to look up nervously to gauge Deanna’s reaction to the question.

  Deanna contorted her face and stared at the reverend as if he’d lost his mind. “No,” she said so sternly that Jasmine flinched. But Jasmine envied Deanna’s boldness right then. Once Jasmine was in the family herself, she could speak freely too. “I’m just here to apologize,” she said, her raspy voice rising with such confidence that one would think that Deanna herself was the one who invited everyone there that day.

  An awkward silence followed as everyone discreetly glanced at each other in confusion. “For what, dear?” Larry’s aunt said.

  “For anything I might have done to offend you while Jacob and I were married,” Deanna said.

  An uncomfortable quiet fell over the table, and Jasmine narrowed her eyes at Deanna, unsure if she’d heard her correctly. “You and Jacob aren’t married anymore?” Jasmine blurted before she could stop herself.

  Mrs. Bivens eyed Jasmine in disapproval, but Jasmine sensed that Larry’s mother wasn’t as upset as she felt obligated to be. From the expression on Mrs. Bivens’s face, Jasmine surmised that this was news to her too, and no one else at the table looked as if they knew any more than Mrs. Bivens did.

  “I received the divorce papers a couple of days after the charges were dropped, and I—” Deanna clamped her mouth shut as if suddenly realizing something, and her eyes darted around the table from person to person in trepidation. Jasmine sensed that Deanna had erroneously assumed that Jacob had given everyone his version of events, so she’d felt obligated to give hers.

  “Charges?” Mr. Bivens said, his voice rising in concern. “What charges?”

  “I meant…” Deanna said quickly, her voice trailing, making it painfully obvious that she was backpedaling in a frantic attempt to make up for her mistaken assumption. “…the children.”

  “After the children were dropped?” Sadie said, her voice conveying the incredulity that Jasmine, and perhaps everyone else present, felt right then.

  “They’ve been staying with Jacob,” Deanna said, offering a disarming smile that was less convincing than
the verbal blunder.

  “So you mean a couple of days after they were dropped off?” Sadie said as if coaching a child in what would best make her tale believable.

  “Yes,” Deanna said. “I’ve been staying at my parents because…” She smiled again. “…well, you know.”

  “No,” Mr. Bivens said, his eyes conveying genuine confusion as he shook his head, “we don’t know.”

  “So I guess Jacob didn’t tell you about the divorce then?” Deanna said, a lopsided smile forming at her mouth then disappearing as a shadow of what looked like anger flashed on her face.

  Deanna’s behavior was so odd that Jasmine momentarily forgot that she should be concerned about what Deanna most likely overheard only minutes before.

  “So divorced women don’t wear the hijab cloth?”

  It was Sadie’s question, and for some reason, Deanna looked shocked by the inquiry. It was almost as if until that moment, Deanna didn’t even realize she wasn’t wearing it.

  “I think I should get going,” the reverend said, standing and pushing his chair back as he nodded politely at everyone. “My wife isn’t feeling well today, so I need to go and check on her.” Mr. Bivens and his family immediately stood and gave their polite farewells.

  “I’m not here to talk about hijab,” Deanna said after the reverend had left the room, slight irritation in her voice. “I just wanted to make sure you understood that I respect your family very much.” Her voice was monotone, as if she were reading from a paper or reciting the words of a memorized speech. “I’m working on being a better person, and if there’s anything I can do to be a valued member of the family, please let me know.” Then Deanna smiled at everyone, baring her teeth in an eagerness that made Jasmine cringe and look way.

  Jasmine couldn’t watch this. Whatever Deanna had intended by today’s visit, she certainly wasn’t achieving it. If she hadn’t known that Deanna was Muslim, Jasmine would’ve wondered if Deanna was sober right then.