His Other Wife

by Umm Zakiyyah

  Salima creased her forehead in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “They say we’re like everyone else, right?” Carletta said.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, the rest of the human race accepts that being disagreed with is a part of life.”

  “That’s true…”

  “My parents think I’m going to Hell for eternity because I don’t believe Jesus is my Lord and Savior,” Carletta said. “And guess what? I don’t care. Because I don’t believe that about myself. And I certainly don’t believe that their Christian beliefs make them Islamophobes.”

  Salima frowned thoughtfully. “But aren’t there any LGBTQ religious groups established to help people overcome their desires?” She shook her head. “It’s just hard to believe that religious people, especially Muslims, wouldn’t want a safe space to obey God instead of change the religion. At least if you really want to go to Paradise in the end.”

  There was a thoughtful pause. “I suppose there must be,” Carletta said reflectively. “But I don’t know of any. Though some groups seem to be more focused on rooting out bullying and shaming than arguing about religious issues,” she offered.

  “That’s true,” Salima muttered.

  “But there are definitely a whole lot of people like me,” Carletta said. “People just quietly living their lives and trying to do what they’re supposed to without making a big fuss about our private struggles.”

  “MashaAllah,” Salima said sincerely.

  “We’re the majority, in my opinion,” Carletta said. “Most of us are wary of groups because they tend to have pretty blatant political or anti-religious agendas. And for those of us who came to religion for spiritual salvation, and not only for a sense of belonging,” she said, “that’s just not a bandwagon we’re willing to join.”

  “I always wondered about that…” Salima said. “I mean, how common can it be for religious people to want to challenge God?”

  Carletta sighed thoughtfully. “That’s the thing though. A lot of these groups are changing the terminology of religion altogether,” she said. “Whenever these topics come up, you’ll hear a lot about, quote, hetero-normativity, as if believing in the way Allah created us is really about being influenced by some underhanded bigoted agenda, instead of living how you’re supposed to.”

  “That’s scary…”

  “You can say that again,” Carletta said with a huff. “But the way I see it, any group that includes the letter T in their acronym can’t possibly be about fighting temptation and overcoming sinful desires. I don’t care how religious they claim to be.”

  It took a moment for Salima to register Carletta’s meaning. “But what about people who became Muslim after they went through surgery and hormonal treatment?”

  “But their gender is still whatever is was at birth. They just need to repent and accept that.”

  Salima was silent for some time as she considered what Carletta was saying. “But bullying and shaming is a real problem for some of them, I hear. I’m sure that makes healing more difficult.”

  “I realize that,” Carletta said sincerely. “But that’s another topic completely. When the principal met with me today, she wasn’t concerned that I was going to beat up anyone or make fun of my students. All she wanted to know was whether or not I had any, quote, prejudicial beliefs against the gay and lesbian lifestyle.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I told her no.”

  Salima chuckled. “That was smart.”

  Carletta coughed laughter. “And it happens to be true. Having a religious belief that something is sinful is not a prejudice.”

  “Good point, mashaAllah,” Salima said with a smirk.

  “But then she mentioned Muslim Marriage Monologues and asked if I was part of that, quote, homophobic group.”

  “What?”

  “No joke,” Carletta said. “Those were her exact words.”

  “O Allah…”

  “So I said I had no idea what she was talking about.”

  Salima felt a tinge of offense, but she understood why Carletta felt compelled to respond like that. “Did she say anything else about it?”

  “Muslim Marriage Monologues, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not really,” Carletta said. “But I did explain to her that I had gone to and hosted many informal marriage events and discussions, so it’s possible that the misunderstanding could have come from that. I told her that anti-gay sentiments are quite common in religious communities, and it was impossible for me to control what other people thought or said.”

  Salima chuckled. “You should’ve become a lawyer.”

  “In another life, perhaps,” Carletta said jokingly. “But for now, I’m just trying to pay my bills.”

  The doorbell rang, and a second later, Salima heard Jamil’s heavy footsteps in the hall then a knock at her door.

  “Let me go,” Salima said with a sigh. “It looks like we have company.”

  “Salima?” Jamil called through the closed door. “That’s Jacob with the boys. He’s going to hang out here until the streets are clear.”

  Salima groaned and rolled her eyes. She wished Jamil would have told her earlier. Then she could’ve fixed herself something to eat while she was on the phone. “Okay!” she called out, holding the mobile phone away from her head then putting it back to her ear.

  “So you’ll text everyone?” Carletta said.

  “That’s no problem,” Salima said. “Most people probably wouldn’t have come anyway because of the snow.”

  “I’m sorry about this,” Carletta said, sadness in her tone. “That was the highlight of my week.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Carly, really,” Salima said. “We live in the age of social terrorism,” she said in wry humor. “So it’s better to be safe than sorry, especially when your job is at stake.”

  “But I really hate all this policing people’s thoughts and beliefs.” Carletta groaned. “It’s unconstitutional, if you ask me.”

  “But that’s the thing,” Salima said jokingly. “No one’s asking you. Because you don’t matter.”

  “I know, right?” Carletta chuckled in agreement. “Apparently, constitutional rights only apply to the non-religious.”

  “The anti-religious,” Salima corrected.

  “You have a point there,” Carletta said, laughter in her voice.

  ***

  Aliyah halted her steps in the hallway of her apartment when she saw the homeless person hunched over against the wall near her door. She glanced around her, uncertain what to do. For a moment, she considered calling Jacob but decided against it because she didn’t want to alarm him. Besides, there was nothing he could do while he was stuck on the other side of town, and it wasn’t like the person was threatening her or anything. From where she stood, it looked like the person was sleeping.

  Taking cautious steps forward, Aliyah held her keys in her fist to keep from making noise as she approached. At her door, she turned her hand up and pinched the edge of the house key in preparation to slide it into the lock.

  “What took you so long?”

  Aliyah yelped and jumped backwards, dropping her keys, her heart thumping fiercely. When the woman reached for the keys, Aliyah scrambled forward and snatched them up.

  “What’s your problem?” the woman said. It was then that the contorted face with the winter hat pulled down to the forehead and the stern voice became familiar. “Why does everything have to be so dramatic with you?” Deanna rolled her eyes as she came to her feet, a small brown paper bag in her hand.

  It took several seconds for Aliyah to catch her breath and calm her racing heart. “What are you doing here?” she finally managed to say.

  “What are you not doing here?” Deanna said flippantly. “It’s rude to make people wait for you.”

  For a fleeting moment, Aliyah wished she still had the restraining order against Deanna, but it had expired a long time ago.

  De
anna grunted. “Open the door,” she said. “I’m cold.”

  Aliyah gritted her teeth to stay calm as she inserted the key into the lock then mouthed the du’aa for entering the home. “I have to pray,” Aliyah said as she set her purse on the front table then shrugged off her coat.

  “Then I’ll pray with you,” Deanna muttered, aggravation still in her voice as she closed the door after stepping inside.

  Aliyah quietly hung her coat on the rack in the foyer before kneeling to pull off her boots. Leave her alone. She doesn’t have a home of her own. The words came to Aliyah as if from the dream she’d had the night before, and they tempered, at least for the moment, the annoyance she felt at being thrust into Deanna’s presence.

  “Where are you manners, girl?”

  Aliyah was walking toward the hall bathroom in preparation to make wudhoo’ when she heard Deanna grumble these words. She cringed, bracing herself for the insult that she knew was coming.

  “Aren’t you going to ask if I need anything?” Deanna said. “I’m your guest, for goodness sake.”

  Pursing her lips in irritation, Aliyah slowly turned around. “Forgive me for not being prepared to receive you,” she said, making no effort to conceal the sarcasm in her tone. “But I have to use the bathroom, if that’s okay with you.”

  “I have to use the bathroom too,” Deanna said, offense in her tone. She walked past Aliyah into the hall then abruptly turned around.

  “Here,” Deanna said, extending the crumpled brown paper bag toward Aliyah. “I bought this for us,” Deanna said as Aliyah reluctantly accepted the offering without looking at it. “But it’s probably cold now.” Deanna was already in the bathroom with the door shut before Aliyah had opportunity to respond.

  Sighing, Aliyah dragged herself to the couch and collapsed into it. This was not the way she had planned to spend her Friday evening. As if on cue, her phone buzzed and chimed from her purse next to her, and she already knew before looking at it that Jacob was texting to tell her he was being delayed further.

  No Muslim Marriage Monologues tonight, Salima’s text said. Stay safe everyone!

  ***

  “So how’s that brother of mine treating you?” Jacob said as he and Jamil settled on the couch after praying Maghrib and the boys had gone upstairs to Haroon’s room. Salima was setting a tray of tea on the floor table in front of the couch when he saw her offer a reluctant smile.

  “He’s treating me well, mashaAllah,” she said.

  Jacob detected the obligatory cordiality in her tone, and he wondered if everything was okay between Salima and Larry.

  “Our parents are doing their share of meddling,” Jamil said in lighthearted humor as he reached forward and filled a ceramic cup with hot water then dropped a teabag in it before setting it on a saucer in front of Jacob, “now that marriage is part of the discussion.”

  “Marriage?” Jacob said, raising his eyebrows in pleasant surprise as he put sugar in his tea. “So things are getting pretty serious, huh?”

  “Actually,” Salima said as she settled on the chair at an angle to them, “ it’s Jasmine who’s doing the meddling.”

  Jacob sensed a marked change in Jamil’s mood, but Jacob kept his gaze on the tea he was stirring. The tension in the room was almost palpable, and Jacob felt reluctant to even lift his hand to sip his tea.

  “She drove three hours to my parents house just to tell them that she’s in the process of filing a lawsuit against Larry,” Salima said, bitter satisfaction in her voice, as if her words were punishing Jamil somehow.

  “What?” Now it was Jacob’s mood that had changed as he looked at Salima in disbelief.

  “Apparently,” Salima said, sarcasm in her tone, “your brother is a women-hating abuser who’s caused Jasmine irreparable emotional damage during their relationship.”

  “Excuse me?” Jacob said, unable to hide his offense. He sat back and folded his arms over his chest, momentarily forgetting about the tea.

  “What do you think, Jacob?” Salima said sweetly, the sarcasm in her tone unmasked. “Is Larry a sexist monster that I need to be protected from?”

  “Do my parents know about this?” Jacob said, his voice etched in concern. But as soon as he said it, he realized the irrationality of the question. How would Salima know if his parents knew? She probably hadn’t even met them herself.

  “I’m not even sure Larry knows about it,” Salima said, the bitterness still in her voice. “I didn’t mention it to him yet. You know, since I might have to tell him that his friend Jamil is representing his ex-girlfriend in the case against him.”

  ***

  The most dreaded apologies are usually the most essential ones.

  In the bathroom as she completed her wudhoo, Deanna drew in a deep breath and exhaled as she recalled the words of the self-help book. She mentally scolded herself for starting off on the wrong foot with Aliyah. No matter how annoying Aliyah was, Deanna had to push through this. She doubted she could ever forgive Aliyah for marrying Jacob behind her back, but even that, Deanna couldn’t fully blame Aliyah for.

  I don’t care what your religious beliefs are, the book had said. But somewhere in everyone’s life there is proof for karma in some form. Call it what you want. But when you do wrong to someone, it’s coming back to you. And in the most unexpected, painful way. But the good news is you can reverse that cycle. Make it right with the person you’ve wronged. Not because they’re such a great person. But because you want to be a better one.

  ***

  Frowning thoughtfully, Aliyah peered into the brown paper bag and saw two semi-wrapped gyros. “She says she’s sorry.” Jacob’s words came to Aliyah just as the flame of fury rose in her chest and she heard the water in the bathroom being turned off. Was it possible that Deanna really was sorry? The question was one that Aliyah hadn’t seriously considered. Everything with Deanna had always felt so much like some underhanded plot to prove her superiority that it was difficult to trust any signs of positivity from her. The concepts of Deanna and sincere regret just didn’t seem to belong in the same context.

  “You brought gyros?” Aliyah had said in childlike excitement so long ago, before the call from her uncle forever changed the course of both of their lives.

  “Yes, against my better judgment,” Deanna had said. “You know that bread has too many carbs.”

  “I love you, Deeja!” Aliyah had sang out.

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever…”

  “You can go in the bathroom now.” Aliyah started at the sound of Deanna’s voice, and she turned to see Deanna standing near the couch, gaze averted, her expression still reflecting a shadow of annoyance.

  “Thank you,” Aliyah muttered then set the paper bag on the floor table before quietly walking to the bathroom herself.

  ***

  Try empathy.

  Deanna did a double take from where she sat on the couch waiting for Aliyah to finish making wudhoo’. The wall hanging near Aliyah’s front door had probably been there for a while, but Deanna had never noticed it before. At least she didn’t recall having noticed it before.

  “Don’t tell me you’re almost pushing forty and you still haven’t figured out what the hell is wrong with you?”

  Asher’s words incited annoyance in Deanna, and she looked away from the quote. Hearing water running in the bathroom and realizing that she was about to stand next to Aliyah in prayer filled Deanna with so much irritation that she had to resist the urge to leave right then. Though Deanna had begun praying again, she wasn’t consistent, and there were times that she resented the ritualistic obligation that continuously disrupted her day.

  What’s the point? she often asked herself. It wasn’t like prayer had given her anything she wanted. In fact, she’d just lost the one thing that had meant the most to her. And for what? So some soft-spoken, brainless bimbo could run away with everything she’d put her heart and energy into all these years? Deanna had made Jacob into the man he was today. It was infuriating that he coul
d repay her hard work by bestowing it on someone so undeserving and beneath her.

  If you really want to be better, then shut up. The blunt advice from the author of YOU CAN BE A BETTER PERSON! returned to her like a slap in the face. I know it sounds harsh, and maybe it is. But one of the things that keeps you stuck where you are is saying the same things to yourself over and over again. If there’s something you find consistently annoying, you have to ask yourself, is it really that annoying? Or are you just repeating to yourself the same negative triggering words each time you encounter it? I’m not saying there’s nothing genuinely annoying in the world. Because let’s face it. Life sucks. But you don’t have to suck, too.

  Deanna heard the bathroom door open, and the muscles in her cheeks ached as she offered Aliyah a wide smile. “You ready to pray?” Deanna said, her voice cheerful and eager even as a scream crawled in her throat, as if begging her not to put herself through the spiritual torment right then. The last thing she wanted was to feel like a horrible person.

  You can’t feel better until you feel worse! the author had said.

  Internally, Deanna groaned and resigned herself to her fate, swallowing hard and feeling a wave of relief as the scream quietly retreated and settled into a knot in her stomach.

  ***

  “This is why I didn’t want to talk to you about it,” Jamil said with an edge of aggravation in his voice.

  “Me talking about Jasmine going to our parents house doesn’t violate attorney-client privilege,” Salima said. The bitterness she heard in her voice made her realize she needed to calm down. Jacob was still there, sitting quietly, his uncomfortable expression suggesting that he hadn’t planned to avoid the storm outside by walking headlong into a worse one inside.