His Other Wife

by Umm Zakiyyah

  “I just need some time to think about this,” Salima had told Larry the night she’d returned from her parents’ house.

  “What happened there?” he’d asked, his voice etched in hurt and concern.

  “They just mentioned some things I hadn’t considered.”

  “Like what?”

  The sincerity she’d heard in his voice that night left Salima guilt-stricken even now. She had never given him a straight answer, and it tore her apart to know that he’d merely come to accept that she now realized what he’d known all along. “You deserve someone better than me,” he’d told her many times before. And she knew that was why he’d pulled back and left her alone. He hadn’t even attempted a phone call or text since that night, and though a part of her felt offended, a greater part, her more rational side, knew that it was his way of respecting the wishes she had been too shy to speak aloud.

  ***

  “What happened to all that ‘women like to play hard to get’ nonsense you’re always talking?” Jacob had teased his brother a few days ago when Larry had stopped by to visit, saying he was thinking to leave Salima alone. At the time, Jacob had thought little of Larry’s words, having assumed that Larry was just being Larry. But Jacob did recall that Larry’s mood had been more somber than usual, even as he’d chuckled and reluctantly participated in light banter with Jacob.

  “I guess I’m getting old,” Larry had joked in response.

  “Or tired of the chase maybe?” Jacob had teased.

  “Something like that,” Larry had muttered noncommittally, an awkward smirk on his face.

  But right then, as Jacob witnessed the argument between Salima and Jamil, he realized the real reason that Larry was behaving uncharacteristically nonchalant about his pursuit of Salima. It wasn’t that Larry was changing his game. It was that, for the first time in his life, Larry had met someone whom he didn’t see as a game. It was easy to like a challenge when you’d never really been faced with one. Love didn’t embolden you. It humbled you. And it brought the strongest and most confident of men to their knees.

  SubhaanAllah, Jacob thought to himself as he saw the distress and irritation on Salima’s face. They’re in love and have no idea what’s happening to them.

  ***

  Deanna was blinking back tears when she turned her head to the right then the left as she sat on the floor next to Aliyah upon completing the evening prayer.

  “We need to pray ’Ishaa too,” Aliyah said, her voice soft in the quiet of the apartment. “It came in before I got home. So we should combine.”

  Deanna nodded without looking in Aliyah’s direction.

  Without saying anything further, Aliyah stood and raised her hands as if in surrender, signaling the start of prayer. “Allaahu’akbar,” she said, her voice confident and firm as it resonated in the room.

  On weakened legs, Deanna stood, wondering if she had the fortitude to hold herself together one more time. She hadn’t heard Qur’an much since she was in jail, and she’d forgotten how much emotion the recitation could evoke. Her own reluctant mumblings during the occasional prayers she offered, she doubted counted as recitation at all. She’d never formally studied the rules for reciting Qur’an, so she had no idea if she was even pronouncing anything correctly. Standing next to Aliyah and hearing the clear, measured tone of Al-Faatihah made Deanna painfully aware that she was far from where she needed to be spiritually.

  “Then at least go to the masjid more often,” Jacob had suggested while they were married. “Study Qur’an or tafseer or something.”

  “I don’t need to study Qur’an,” Deanna had replied flippantly. “I’m living it.”

  Deanna winced at the memory. It was difficult to believe that she had spoken such haughty words. What do you think of yourself now? a voice taunted in her head.

  “Ameen,” Aliyah proclaimed, elongating the last part of the word, begging Allah to answer their prayer.

  “Ameen,” Deanna hurriedly mumbled after her, having been distracted by her thoughts. Feeling bad for her carelessness, Deanna resolved to focus better for the rest of prayer.

  As Aliyah moved on to recite another part of the Qur’an, Deanna had no idea what she was listening to. So how could she concentrate? She was dumbfounded. Where did Aliyah learn all of this? Frantically, Deanna listened for any Arabic word she knew the meaning to. But she heard none.

  Envy enflamed Deanna until she shifted in her place, aggravated that Aliyah felt the need to rub her religiousness in Deanna’s face. It wasn’t enough that she stole her husband. Now she had to act “holier than thou” too.

  Everything isn’t about you, the words of the self-help book came to her just then. If you have a hard time maintaining close relationships, chances are, this is a lesson you still haven’t learned. It’s highly unlikely that your husband, wife, or friend wakes up with a mission to make your life miserable. So if their words or actions constantly make you angry, the problem is most likely with you. So change yourself, or get out of the relationship.

  “Allaahu’akbar,” Aliyah said, eliciting a sigh of relief from Deanna as they finally bowed in rukoo’. Even if Aliyah wasn’t trying to rub her Islamic knowledge in Deanna’s face, couldn’t she at least pick something short to recite?

  It aggravated Deanna to no end when the imam would lead the prayer and choose the longest possible part of Qur’an to recite. That was partly why Deanna avoided the masjid so much. Everything there felt like one big “look at how religious I am” show. If you didn’t dress a certain way or use all the latest, fanciest Arabic catch phrases, you were looked down upon and viewed as a bad Muslim. And if that wasn’t enough, you were tortured during prayer itself. Legs aching and mind wandering, all you could do was count down to the final tasleem, which was delayed so long that the end of prayer often felt like being set free after a prison sentence. And now Deanna was stuck there listening to Aliyah’s supercilious extended recitation, and this agitated her for the rest of prayer.

  “Did you have to recite half the Qur’an?” Deanna blurted after they turned their heads to the left, indicating the end of prayer.

  A shadow of annoyance passed over Aliyah’s face, but Aliyah did not respond or even look in Deanna’s direction. Instead, she sat murmuring additional supplications, as if her mind was on more important things.

  “You should do all that extra praying when you’re by yourself,” Deanna grumbled.

  Seconds later, Aliyah’s soft voice rose, and Deanna recognized the recitation as Ayat al-Kursy. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, disgusted that Aliyah would use Qur’an, of all things, to ignore her.

  When Aliyah finished reciting, she stood and walked over to a small shelf, and Deanna’s gaze followed her in annoyance. Glowering, Deanna watched as Aliyah removed a large book from the shelf then returned to her place next to Deanna on the floor.

  “In the first rak’ah of Maghrib,” Aliyah said, flipping through the pages of the book before lifting it toward Deanna, “I recited Al-Humazah.” When Deanna glanced to the side, she saw that Aliyah was holding the Qur’an, which was opened to a section filled with short chapters. “In the second rak’ah, I recited Al-Maa’oon,” she said, turning a page then placing her index finger on a soorah there. She turned to another page and pointed to it. “In the first rak’ah of ’Ishaa, I recited Al-Zalzalah, and in the second rak’ah,” she said, flipping a page again and placing a finger there, “I recited Al-Bayyinah.” Aliyah set the Qur’an on Deanna’s lap so she could see for herself. “These are some of the shortest chapters in the Qur’an.”

  …And the people of the Scripture [Jews and Christians] differed not until after there came to them clear evidence. And they were commanded no more than this: To worship Allah, offering Him sincere devotion, being true [in faith]; to establish regular prayer; and to practice regular charity. And that is the right religion—

  Annoyed, Deanna closed the Qur’an and handed it back to Aliyah. “I wasn’t asking for an Islamic studies
class,” Deanna said as Aliyah accepted the Qur’an and held it on her own lap. “I was just saying you should think about other people when you’re leading prayer.”

  “I was,” Aliyah said simply. “That’s why I chose short soorah’s. I myself have trouble focusing when it feels like the person leading thinks they’re on some Ramadan Taraweeh marathon or something.”

  Despite her sour mood, Deanna was unable to keep from chuckling at the analogy. “Well, that’s what it felt like standing next to you.”

  Aliyah shrugged. “Maybe because I recite slow.”

  “Maybe…”

  An awkward silence settled between them before Aliyah finally stood and returned the Qur’an to its place. She walked back over to where Deanna was sitting but sat on the couch instead of the floor.

  “Where’d you learn to recite like that anyway?” Deanna said from where she remained on the prayer mat, her tone still carrying a tinge of annoyance.

  “Most recently, Reem and Salima,” Aliyah said. “But I’ve been studying Qur’an on and off since I became Muslim.”

  Deanna frowned. “I don’t remember that.”

  “You came with me to a couple of classes when we were in college,” Aliyah said.

  Deanna’s eyebrows rose doubtfully. “I did?”

  “Yes,” Aliyah said. “And you were pretty good, mashaAllah.” Deanna grew silent, taken aback by the sincerity in Aliyah’s voice. “The teacher used to say you were probably going to memorize Qur’an before the rest of us because you had such a good memory, mashaAllah.”

  “My memory isn’t so great,” Deanna muttered, but a half smile creased one corner of her mouth.

  “It’s almost photographic actually,” Aliyah disagreed, no hint of sarcasm or resentment in her tone. “You’d read something once then recall it weeks later, word for word.”

  Oh. Deanna had forgotten that people considered that remarkable. “That’s only for English books,” she said. “I don’t remember much from the Qur’an. I barely recognize the Arabic letters.”

  “Salima is starting weekend classes at the masjid after the winter break, insha’Allah,” Aliyah said. “Maybe you can join.”

  “I don’t think so.” Deanna felt the knot in her stomach loosening itself and crawling back up her throat. She clamped her mouth shut and gritted her teeth until she was sure the threat of a scream had passed.

  “Why not?” Aliyah’s voice was hesitant, as if unsure she had the right to ask.

  “I don’t want all those sisters staring at me and talking about me behind my back.” Aliyah was quiet, and Deanna sensed that Aliyah knew she was right. Aliyah herself had suffered the same. Deanna fought the flicker of guilt in realizing she was partly to blame for that.

  “Then maybe Salima can teach you privately,” Aliyah said, her tone thoughtful. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Maybe we could even study together.”

  Deanna’s eyes widened as she looked at Aliyah in shocked disapproval. “You’d be willing to study with me?”

  Aliyah shrugged. “Yes, why not?”

  Deanna wrinkled her nose, feeling irritated with Aliyah all of a sudden. “Come on, Ally,” she said, resorting to Aliyah’s given name as she used to do sometimes. “Nobody’s that forgiving. You must hate me at least as much as I hate you.”

  Aliyah’s lips formed a thin line, and she pulled at a thread of her clothes. “I don’t hate you, Deeja.” Aliyah’s voice was low, and Deanna thought she detected in it a tinge of hurt and offense. “And I don’t think you hate me.”

  Deanna huffed. “Let’s not pretend we don’t know our history,” she said. “And our present.”

  “I’m not,” Aliyah said. “I just think hate is a strong word.”

  “Not if it’s accurate.”

  Aliyah said nothing to that, and the implications of the silence sat like a bulky piece of unwanted furniture in the room. Neither of them denied it was there, yet neither of them attempted to move it.

  The impasse seemed to stretch for several minutes and was interrupted only by the grumbling of Deanna’s stomach and the simultaneous chiming and vibration of Aliyah’s phone.

  Immediately, Deanna thought of Jacob texting to check on Aliyah, and the infuriation she felt was so strong that she had to resist physically snatching Aliyah’s phone. Instead, she pushed herself to a standing position, burrowing her fists into the carpet next to her. She bent over and yanked up her prayer mat and folded it in quick snaps of the heavy cloth. Firmly tucking the prayer mat under one arm, Deanna side-eyed Aliyah as she now folded the other prayer mat.

  “That was Jacob, wasn’t it?” Deanna said, glowering at Aliyah, furious accusation in her tone. It was all she could do to keep from boldly walking over to the couch and standing at Aliyah’s shoulder.

  “Yes,” Aliyah said calmly. “He says the weather is getting worse, and they’re forecasting a snowstorm that’s supposed to last until three o’clock in the morning.”

  Deanna grunted, turning her back as she walked over to the small shelf and set the prayer mats there. “Then I guess I should get going,” she said bitterly.

  “He also said we should stay put,” Aliyah added. “Because there are a lot of accidents out there, and the interstate is gridlocked.”

  Aliyah’s use of the word we touched a soft space in Deanna’s heart, but Deanna contorted her face, concealing her true feelings. “We?”

  “Well, you, specifically,” Aliyah clarified. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere anyway. He asked if I was willing to let you stay the night.”

  “How does he even know I’m here?” Deanna tone suggested that she was offended, but she was more pleasantly surprised than anything.

  “I texted him before we prayed.”

  Deanna felt a lump in her throat. “What does he care if I get in an accident?”

  Aliyah was silent for so long that Deanna thought she’d managed to annoy her. “Look, Deeja,” Aliyah said finally. “No one’s telling you what to do. If you want to go, I’m not going to try and stop you,” she said. “It would just make him feel better if no one he cared about was out there in that storm right now.”

  “He doesn’t care about me,” Deanna muttered. But she was overcome with emotion at being referred to as someone Jacob cared about.

  “And it would make me feel better too,” Aliyah said sincerely. “The roads are all ice and snow, so it’s better if you stay here tonight.”

  “You don’t want me here.”

  “I don’t want either of us here,” Aliyah said. “I’d rather be at Salima’s with my son.”

  Deanna huffed. Aliyah didn’t say “and husband” but Deanna heard the implication.

  The silence settled between them, and Deanna sensed another impasse. She wondered if Aliyah would ask her to leave outright since it was obvious she was just being hospitable to please Jacob.

  “Deeja?” Aliyah said.

  Deanna rolled her eyes knowingly. “I’m going now,” she said as she walked toward the door.

  “I’m not asking you to leave,” Aliyah said. “We didn’t even eat our gyros yet.”

  Folding her arms defiantly, Deanna halted her steps and turned around. “Gyros?” She pursed her lips in annoyance, but laughter tickled the back of her throat. She found the mention of gyros utterly ridiculous right then. “Girl, you’re a trip,” she said, a smirk on her face. “You can eat those gyros alone.”

  “I know. But I don’t want to,” Aliyah said, her tone serious. “And I won’t be able to enjoy them if all I can think about is you being buried alive in a snowdrift somewhere.”

  Deanna burst out laughing. She had no idea why, but the vision of Aliyah munching on gyros while Deanna slowly died from hypothermia outside was hilarious.

  Aliyah chuckled herself, apparently visualizing the same thing.

  Recovering from laughter, Deanna shook her head, thoughts growing distant momentarily.

  “Why did you come?” Aliyah asked after a thoughtful silence.

&
nbsp; It took a moment for Deanna to register Aliyah’s words. “What?” she said, regarding Aliyah with a question on her face.

  “Today,” Aliyah clarified. “Why’d you come?”

  A twinge of embarrassment stabbed Deanna as she recalled waiting outside Aliyah’s door for hours. Sighing, she walked over to the couch and sat on the far end opposite Aliyah. Deanna resumed folding her arms. “I don’t know,” she said, an edge of annoyance in her tone. “Does it matter?”

  “To me it does,” Aliyah said.

  Deanna paused thoughtfully, and she felt a bitter taste in her mouth as she recalled her journal entry. Apologize to Aliyah.

  “I came to apologize,” Deanna grumbled finally, unable to look Aliyah in the eye. Deanna’s stomach churned as she realized that she had spoken the dreaded words aloud. “I wanted to say I’m sorry,” she added, the words nearly choking her, they were so difficult to form.

  There was an extended silence, and Deanna sensed Aliyah’s surprise. But she still couldn’t bring herself to look at her.

  “I’m trying to be a better person,” Deanna mumbled.

  Chapter 35

  Reconciliation

  “They have the problem that all good parents have. They don’t see their children’s scars or baggage. They only see everyone else’s.”

  Salima felt herself growing upset at Jamil’s statement. “Where is all of this coming from?” she said, her back to Jamil as she stood slicing carrots at a counter in the kitchen a Saturday evening in late December. She shook her head as the knife rhythmically hit the cutting board, her eyes on her task. “A few weeks ago, you were siding with them.”

  “Siding with them?” Jamil’s voice rose in offense. “Do you really believe this is about taking sides? If there was even the slightest possibility that Larry is bad for you, I’d want you to know about it.”