by Umm Zakiyyah
Deanna was still glowering at him, her expression unchanged, so he wasn’t sure if she’d registered what he said.
“You treat people like they’re all pawns in some master plot you’ve crafted for them,” Jacob said, feeling pent-up anger rise to the surface as he was able to express himself freely. “You don’t think about anyone but yourself, unless they can benefit you in someway.” He shook his head, nose wrinkled in disappointment.
“So yes, I was your husband project,” he said. “I was just a soulless man put on earth for you to toy with. You slander your own best friend. You rush to pair her up with a man you wouldn’t even marry yourself. And heck,” he said with a huff, “for all I know you even faked a pregnancy to convince me to marry you.”
He shook his head again. “But I blame myself,” he said. “Because I was young, stupid, and full of myself. I should have never let myself go that far. But in you, Allah gave me exactly what I deserved. He gave me the female version of myself. Our marriage was my penance as far as I’m concerned. And, bi’idhnillaah, I’ll never go back to that nightmare,” he said, earnestness in his tone. “Even if Allah took Aliyah from me and I had to live alone for the rest of my life.”
***
Jacob’s words unsteadied Deanna until the ground seemed to open up beneath her. It was as if she were falling with nothing to hold on to. Her hand fumbled behind her in search of the arm of the couch, and when she found it, she dug her fingernails into it for fear she would collapse.
We live in a world dominated by science and corporeal reality, the self-help author had said. Anything that cannot be measured, simulated in a lab, or confirmed by the five traditionally recognized senses is cast into the worlds of superstition, imagination, and myth. Science is not looked at as a microcosm of a wider world. It is looked at as the wider world itself. Consequently, the spirit world, like that of religion, is largely ignored and shoved under one (if not all) of the three aforementioned categories. Thus, discussing concepts like contrition and atonement become extremely difficult because the concept of morality itself cannot be proven, and therefore, can only exist (allegedly) as part of one’s imagination or “mythological” beliefs. But the truth is that the human is made up of both body and spirit. This is undeniable, even if you reject the notions of God and religion. Somewhere deep inside us, we have a barometer of right and wrong, and if we do wrong, we feel horribly and often pay for it for the rest of our lives.
“I’m sorry,” Deanna said, resentment in her tone, the words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. “I’m sorry for ruining your life, Jacob,” she said, shivering in anger. “And I’m sorry I ever met you, Aliyah. I think we would’ve both been better off if I was never part of your life.
***
Salima arrived home Sunday evening with a heavy heart that left her restless in frustration and self-doubt. A part of her was grieving, but she wasn’t fully cognizant of what she’d lost. Feeling suffocated in her parents’ presence, she’d left their house a couple of hours before she’d planned, having fought off a tinge of guilt for making up an excuse to leave. During the three-hour drive home, the urge to call Larry was almost painful, but she withheld, fearing it was unfair to him.
“I’m sure this Larry seems like a good brother,” she heard her mother’s voice in her head. “But I don’t think he’s good enough for you, baby. You need someone like you…”
Salima had considered calling Aliyah to ask her perspective, but she reminded herself that Aliyah couldn’t relate. Aliyah didn’t have parents who displayed affection or emotional concern for her well being, so the concept of having parents deeply concerned about whom she chose to marry would probably be quizzical at best. Then there was the possibility that the perspective of Salima’s parents could be considered offensive. Aliyah probably wouldn’t understand why Salima’s family put so much emphasis on marrying a man who was raised Muslim.
As Salima recited the supplication for entering the home and closed the door, she heard the patter of footsteps hurrying down the stairs. A smile spread on her face as Haroon greeted her with salaams and a hug. Jamil appeared at the top of the stairs a moment later. The sight of him incited a bit of annoyance at the reminder of Jasmine visiting their parents, but she held her tongue and smiled up at him.
“As-salaamu’alaikum,” she said.
“Wa’alaiku-mus-salaam wa-rahmatullaah,” Jamil replied, offering her a warm smile. “How was it?”
She shrugged, glancing down at Haroon as she pulled him closer to her. “I’m still trying to process everything.”
“That bad, huh?” he said teasingly.
There were silent for several seconds. “Did Haroon eat dinner yet?” Salima said finally.
“Yes,” Jamil said. “We just finished eating right before you came.”
“Did you brush your teeth?” Salima asked, looking down at her son.
Haroon shook his head. “Uncle Jamil is letting me watch a movie.”
Salima drew her eyebrows together in concern, but a smile lingered on her face. “On a school night?”
“I told him if he finished his homework and helped me clean up we could watch The Boy and the King.”
Relieved that it was at least a beneficial film, she nodded. “Okay, but brush your teeth first and go to bed right after it’s over.”
“Okay,” Haroon said as he hurried back up the stairs.
“Thanks for watching Haroon,” Salima said after she heard a room door close.
Jamil came down the stairs, a hesitant smile on his face. “So I guess they told you about Jasmine’s visit?”
Salima glowered at her brother, his casual question infuriating her. “Why would you invite her to our parents’ home, of all places?”
“I didn’t invite her there,” he said, walking past Salima to the living room. “I wanted to talk to you about it, but I couldn’t.”
Salima followed him into the living room then grunted and rolled her eyes as she sat down on the couch, arms folded. “Attorney-client privilege?”
“It might not mean much to you,” Jamil said, a tinge of annoyance in his voice as he sat a comfortable distance from her. “But violating that could cost me my job and license.”
“You know they think I’m a fool for even considering Larry,” Salima said, accusation in her tone. She shook her head in disbelief, but she detected a hint of self-doubt flickering inside her. She looked at Jamil. “Do you agree with them?”
Jamil folded his lips as if the subject was an uncomfortable one.
Salima’s face grew hot in offense. “But he’s your friend.”
Jamil regarded Salima as if seeing her for the first time. “And that’s supposed to mean I’m excited for him to marry my sister? Yes, I like Larry. But that doesn’t mean I like him for you.”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “You sound like Mom and Dad.”
“So what if I do?” Jamil said defensively. “We’re worried about you.”
His use of the word we struck a soft place in her heart, making her momentarily forget what she was about to say.
“They kept asking me what I knew about the brother who wants to marry you, and if there’s anything at all that could make him bad for you,” he said, exhaustion in his tone. “I didn’t want to lie.”
“So you send Jasmine to do it for you.”
Jamil shook his head, an expression of frustrated amusement on his face. “I knew you’d say that about her.”
“Why? Because I’m judgmental, or because you know she’s a liar?”
“And if she’s not?” Jamil said, looking Salima directly in the eye.
“Then that’s for me to worry about.”
“Yet you worry about me and Muslimah all the time.”
At the mention of his ex-wife, Salima didn’t know what to say.
“This is what families do, Salima,” Jamil said. “We worry about each other. I just don’t think you can be too careful.”
Salima was l
ost in thought for some time. “Be honest with me, Jamil. What exactly is Jasmine accusing him of?”
“Mom and Dad didn’t tell you?”
“Do they know?” Salima said, doubt in her tone. “They were so vague that I got the impression that Jasmine only said enough to incite their suspicions and disapproval.”
Jamil’s lips formed a thin line. “I don’t know what they know because I didn’t ask what she told them.”
“But what do you know?”
Jamil drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “Salima, you know I can’t tell you that.”
“But you can send Larry’s ex-girlfriend to our parents’ house?” she said in exhausted disappointment.
“Her talking to them about what she experienced is different from me divulging what a client told me.”
Salima felt herself growing upset. “You’re my brother and a Muslim before you’re a lawyer, Jamil. So if there’s something I need to know about the man I want to marry, I think you’re obligated to tell me, attorney-client privilege be damned.”
Jamil exhaled in a single breath and appeared to be considering what Salima had said. But he remained silent, not looking at her.
“In the name of Allah,” Salima said, irritation in her voice, “I ask you to tell me anything I need to know.”
Jamil remained silent for a full minute before he sighed. “Look…it might be nothing.”
“An entire lawsuit based on nothing?” Salima huffed. “I highly doubt that.”
He folded in his lips and shook his head, as if the conversation was painful for him. “She’s not going to file a lawsuit,” he said finally. “She was just meeting with me to see if she had a strong case if she decided to.”
Salima squinted her eyes in aggravation. “But a strong case about what, Jamil?”
Jamil was silent for several seconds before he responded. “Suffering emotional distress and financial loss due to a broken engagement.”
Salima’s eyes widened in disbelief, and she coughed laughter. “Are you kidding me? So she’s trying to sue him because he’s going on with his life?”
Jamil looked irritated. “It’s not that simple, Salima.”
“And you thought that warranted a meeting with our parents?”
“She invested a lot of time and money into that relationship.”
“And I invested a lot of time and money into my marriage,” she said. “But Allah took my husband’s soul. So should I sue God?”
“This isn’t a joke, Salima.”
“That’s what it sounds like to me.”
“Her emotional distress isn’t just about a broken engagement.”
“Then what is it about?” she said sarcastically. “Losing out on cashing into the Bivens family business?”
“She says he was verbally abusive.”
Salima laughed out loud. “Before or after she found out he was interested in me?”
Jamil shook his head, clearly annoyed. “This is why I didn’t want to talk to you about this.”
“I don’t blame you,” Salima clarified, but offense was still in her tone. “It just sounds like the classic revenge lawsuit.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Oh, it is.”
“But it’s not even a lawsuit yet.”
“And I doubt it ever will be,” she said flippantly. “She only hired you for legal advice because you’re my brother, and she was banking on your guilty conscience making you warn me and our parents against the marriage.”
“Have you ever taken a moment to listen to Larry?” Jamil said, hurt and offense in his eyes as he looked at Salima. “He talks like he has this chip on his shoulder, and like women don’t deserve crap. That might make for a good debate over dinner, but imagine living every day with a man who thinks your troubles are laughable at best.”
Salima shook her head in disagreement. “He’s just honest about how he feels.”
“Is that what they’re calling misogyny nowadays?” Jamil said saracastically.
“Misogyny?” Salima recoiled. “Larry doesn’t hate women.”
Jamil raised his eyebrows doubtfully. “You sure about that?”
Salima opened her mouth to respond, but Jamil spoke before she could.
“As a friend, I found his frankness humorous, though it was annoying as hell sometimes,” Jamil said. “But when Jasmine came to me for legal advice, I saw it from a different perspective.”
Salima didn’t know what to say, but she had a difficult time letting go of her offense.
“Maybe she did come to me for revenge,” Jamil said with a shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe she even wanted you and I to have this conversation. And maybe she does want to keep him from marrying you so she can have him to herself. But that doesn’t mean she’s lying.”
Chapter 34
Atonement
It was a Friday afternoon in mid-December and Aliyah was clearing her desk in preparation for winter break when she heard a light knock on her office door. She looked up and saw one of her algebra students peering in the open doorway, a hesitant expression on her face, a loose fist poised mid-knock.
“Professor Thomas?”
“Hello, Robin,” Aliyah said, offering the student a weary smile. “I thought all the students had gone home already.”
Robin smiled self-consciously. “I commute.”
“Well, I’ve already packed away my grade book…” Aliyah said apologetically, glancing around the office as she placed her hands on her hips. “But your reports should arrive to your home by next week.”
Robin shook her head. “I’m not here to ask about my grade.”
“Oh?”
Robin glanced cautiously over her shoulder into the hallway before looking at Aliyah again. “Can I come in?”
Aliyah felt a wave of exhaustion. She was one of the last professors still on campus and was planning to head home soon. Jacob had signed out before leaving for the Friday prayers and had just texted to say he had picked up Ibrahim after Jumu’ah and they would meet her at the apartment. But her expression remained cordial as she gestured for Robin to take a seat opposite her desk.
“Thank you,” Robin muttered, walking in quickly and sitting down, her petite frame almost swallowed up by the chair. She was one of Aliyah’s quiet students, rarely raising her hand and only speaking when she absolutely had to. She had a nervous habit of biting her thumbnail throughout class while she took notes with the other hand. Robin said nothing as Aliyah continued placing her belongings in a cardboard box atop her desk then opened a desk drawer.
“Is everything okay?” Aliyah said, glancing up as she leaned forward to thumb through the file folders.
Robin offered a reassuring smile that did little to veil the nervousness hidden beneath. “I’m good,” she said, her voice awkwardly high-pitched as she used her thumb and forefinger to push back the hair that had fallen over her eyes.
“How can I help you?” Aliyah said, regarding Robin skeptically.
Robin chewed on a thumbnail nervously before speaking. “I’ve been thinking about that lesson you gave on narcissism and unknown values.”
A puzzled expression lingered on Aliyah’s face. Several seconds passed before she recalled the lesson. “The term unknown value is actually quite narcissistic,” Aliyah had said. “Because if all of the other values are known, then it’s impossible that this single one can be truly unknown. It’s only unknown to the extent that a person lacks the knowledge or willpower to work out the single answer that everything else is obviously pointing to.”
A smile of recognition passed over Aliyah’s face. “I was joking,” she said.
“I know,” Robin said, pushing her hair away from her face again. “But I can’t get it out of my head.” A crooked smile formed on her face. “In the realm of definite realities, the answer to the unknown is literally right in front of you,” she said, reciting Aliyah’s words from class, “if you have both the knowledge and willpower to see it.”
Aliyah shook
her head, impressed. “You have a good memory.”
“I wrote it down.”
“I guess I should’ve told you that wouldn’t be on the exam,” she said in lighthearted humor.
Robin chuckled and nodded. “Yes, I guess so…”
An awkward silence followed, and the only sound that could be heard was Aliyah opening a drawer and shuffling through papers.
“I’m an atheist,” Robin said with nervous laughter.
Aliyah raised her eyebrows quizzically, feeling on guard all of a sudden, unsure where the conversation was heading. She immediately thought of Dr. Warren and wondered if this student intended to voice a complaint against Aliyah. But Aliyah had made it a point to never mention God or religion during her lessons, even in passing or jest the way other professors did. Though things had calmed down considerably after the incident with Deanna, the atmosphere between her and Dr. Warren remained tense, and Aliyah sensed that her supervisor was waiting for the moment to officially pin something on her.
“I’m a math professor,” Aliyah said, her tone firm as a cordial expression remained on her face.
“I know, I know,” Robin said quickly, apology in her tone as she pinched her eyes shut and shook her head, as if willing the wrong words from her mind. “I just wanted you to know that what you said made me rethink a lot of things. So I wanted to thank you.”
Unsure Robin’s meaning, Aliyah nodded hesitantly, but she decided against inquiring further. “You’re welcome…”
“That was the first time I realized it’s not mathematically possible for God to be unknown.” She smiled nervously. “Or non-existent.”
It was then that Aliyah registered what Robin was saying. In the realm of definite realities, the answer to the unknown is literally right in front of you if you have both the knowledge and willpower to see it.
“Because if all of the universe is known,” Robin recited, a hesitant smile thinly veiling the spiritual discomfort this realization had uncovered, “then it’s impossible that the existence of the Creator can be truly unknown. He’s only unknown to the extent that a person lacks the knowledge or willpower to work out the obvious truth that everything else is pointing to.”