It’s All Under Control
Deanna lay on her back staring at the ceiling in the guest bedroom of her parents’ home on a Thursday evening, two weeks after the assault incident. The down comforter was gathered at the lower half of her body, and her fists were tucked under her arms, her jaw set in annoyance. A tray of food sat on the mahogany wood chest next to the king-size bed. She had managed to eat only a few bites before feeling nauseated. It was difficult to maintain an appetite amidst all the commotion in her head. She had thought she could pass time by watching television, but when she saw a photo of Aliyah, laughing and carefree, dressed in a revealing dress, natural hair cut and styled attractively, Deanna promptly powered off the television.
Aliyah has some nerve, Deanna thought indignantly, shamelessly displaying herself like that in front of thousands of people—and in front of my husband. It was clever though, Deanna admitted bitterly, giving the media alluring pictures like that. After that ruse, it was only natural that Aliyah would be labeled the “hot” mistress while Deanna was viewed as some nutcase.
At the thought of Jacob seeing those photos, Deanna’s body was aflame in fury. Frustrated, Deanna kicked the covers from her legs. “Is this stupid A.C. even on?” she muttered aloud, glancing around the room.
“You should apologize to her,” suggested Deanna’s aunt, of all people.
“For what?” Deanna had recoiled. “She had that coming. She’s lucky the security guard pulled me off of her.”
“She was at work, baby. That was wrong.”
“Well, she was at work flirting with my husband.”
“You don’t know that.”
“And neither do you.”
“I just remember when my husband used to accuse me of—”
“Do not compare me to that sorry excuse of a man.”
Deanna recalled her aunt’s look of hurt and disappointment after she’d said that. I should apologize to Aunt Stacy, Deanna thought, her chest constricting in regret. She groaned in self-rebuke, annoyed that she had allowed Aliyah’s antics to make her step out of character and disrespect her aunt. How long was she going to allow Aliyah to ruin her life? Deanna should have listened to Juwayriah and befriended only secure, married women who had their lives together.
“I didn’t know until later that Jacob called your uncle about marrying me! I didn’t know, Deeja!”
Deanna gritted her teeth. Yeah right. Then where did he get the idea to call your uncle in the first place? Men didn’t just call a woman’s marriage guardian unless the woman had already given him the go-ahead—and unless the man and woman had already spoken to each other about marriage.
But it was good that Aliyah had let that slip. If she hadn’t, Deanna would never have known the extent of Aliyah’s backstabbing. How dare Aliyah encourage Jacob to take her as a second wife behind Deanna’s back. That was low.
“It’s nothing personal, Deeja,” Aliyah had said when she cut off their friendship. “I just have a lot going on right now, and I can’t handle anything else.”
Deanna snorted. I bet you do, trying to steal husbands and such. How could you handle anything else?
Deanna should have known right then that something wasn’t right. Now it made sense why Aliyah had kept avoiding her and refusing her calls. She could barely look Deanna in the face when she cut off their friendship. No, it wasn’t personal, Deanna agreed. Because Aliyah ending the friendship had nothing to do with Deanna, and everything to do with Aliyah’s guilty conscience.
But I’m going to be the bigger person, Deanna told herself.
Forgive, forgive, forgive. That’s what Deanna’s mother always advised, and maybe that’s what Deanna needed to do to let go of the resentment that was eating at her.
“By any means necessary, girl,” Deanna would often say. “That’s my motto when you see a man you want.”
Trepidation gripped Deanna. What if her current predicament was a karma of sorts, coming back to haunt her for how she had convinced Jacob to marry her? Allah created the world round, Deanna had heard an imam say. So whatever you throw out will come back to you.
Deanna’s stomach convulsed. What if Aliyah was now adopting that motto for herself?
“Just pray on it, baby,” her mother had said earlier as she sat on the edge of the bed, petting Deanna’s hair affectionately.
But Deanna had not prayed on it. In fact, she had not prayed at all since the ordeal. Because she was afraid that she didn’t deserve any blessings from her Lord.
***
Stress debilitates, Jacob thought to himself as he sat on the soft prayer mat in his home office after performing Istikhaarah Thursday evening. He could hear the shouts, grunts, and stomps of excitement and frustration as Younus and Thawab played the Wii together. He had helped them with their homework earlier and allowed them a few games after dinner, but soon Jacob would have to tell them to go to bed because they had school in the morning. But right then, he needed to sit still and clear his head.
For the past week, he had spent extended time in self-reflection and sought advice from people he trusted regarding whether or not to divorce Deanna. It had been difficult to put aside his apprehension about others knowing what he was going through, but he was at a breaking point and could no longer suppress the pain and confusion he’d battled for so long. He’d reached out to Benjamin, the local imam, Dr. Melanie Goldstein, and even his own father; and everyone advised him similarly. Seek reconciliation and do marriage counseling.
But Jacob didn’t want marriage counseling. And what was there to reconcile? Jacob wanted psychological and emotional freedom from the shackles of a suffocating, unhealthy relationship. Could arbitration or marriage counseling guarantee him that? This isn’t love, he’d told himself. This is laborious obligation.
After learning of his wife’s painful past, Jacob had felt obliged to be a source of protection and comfort for Deanna. From the moment she’d divulged what happened to her when she was eight years old, Jacob could see right through Deanna’s bright smiles and claims of “I forgive him” and “I am walking with the Lord.” Deanna hadn’t forgiven Bailey (or her father) for what happened in the church basement so many years ago. And how could she? She had never allowed herself an honest assessment of what had happened in the first place.
Part of Jacob’s determination to remain by Deanna’s side was the desire to be a positive counter balance to how her parents, especially her father, had handled the trauma. Her father’s dismissiveness and his ultimate blaming of Deanna herself was likely more traumatic than the rape itself. Though well-intentioned, her mother merely exacerbated Deanna’s troubles through inciting guilt. “Good Christians love their enemies,” she’d told Deanna. “So if you are showing any anger, then God is not happy with you.”
What does that even mean? Jacob had thought angrily. Love is not word or a claim. It is an action-based reality that stems from a definite feeling in the heart, even if the word “love” is never used to describe it. Even when he was a Christian himself, Jacob was often perplexed by the “love your enemies” message being used as a religious measuring stick for the goodness of a person. Why would God ask us to love our enemies? he wondered. Jacob imagined that to even attempt such a feat would result in some form of self-aggrandizing dishonesty within oneself or self-righteous contempt for the object of that “love.”
When as an adult Jacob read in the Qur’an God’s instructions to consistently strive for peace, justice, and mercy when interacting with one’s enemies, what Jacob had learned as a Christian began to make sense. Perhaps the meaning of the original biblical concept had gotten lost in translations and rewrites over time, but the difference between the Christian concept of “love your enemies” and the Islamic concept of seeking peace, justice, and mercy was not insignificant. The former was rooted in a state of the heart while the latter was rooted in a person’s behavior.
But only behavior was in one’s control.
In Deanna seeking to do the impossible—force her heart to love what she (justifiably) loathed—she had incited a cycle of personal deception. Through believing that she was obligated to love her rapist, she had developed an inability to distinguish between love and contempt (because religious doctrine had effectively made them synonymous). Through following her mother’s advice to “put a smile on your face, and walk with your head high” before ever giving herself permission to grieve and feel disgusted, Deanna had learned that external facades dictate internal realities.
But, in Jacob’s view, the most destructive message Deanna had been given was, You are better than this. You are better than the wicked and sinful. You are walking with the Lord. As far as Jacob could surmise, Deanna’s wholehearted belief in this mantra was the single most significant factor in destroying their marriage. It had incited such pathological arrogance that it permeated their every conversation and interaction. By her wide smile alone, Deanna reeked of incorrigible narcissism.
How then could any meaningful, lasting reconciliation take place?
Perhaps the “you are better” mantra had held considerable value at the time of the rape, but it was a harmful ideology to carry into other contexts. Without viewing this belief system as conditional upon her own adherence to non-wicked, non-sinful behavior, Deanna destructively believed that the wicked and sinful were always “the other”—and that in every context, it was she who was “walking with the Lord.” This self-glorification led her to hold in contempt the very people she claimed to help: broken and abused women.
If a woman didn’t stand up for herself like Deanna felt she should, if a woman didn’t appear strong or courageous enough to leave a bad situation, if a woman appeared generally unhappy, broken, or troubled by her struggles in life; Deanna viewed her with condescending, unmerciful scorn, even as Deanna claimed to be full of love and concern…
Because, from eight years old, that was how Deanna had learned to treat herself.
Jacob sighed as he stood and walked over to his desk. He hesitated only briefly before picking up his phone and dialing his wife.
***
At the sound of the familiar ringtone, Deanna scrambled out of bed and rushed to the dresser to retrieve her phone. Even as her heart raced for fear of missing the call, Deanna smiled inwardly. She had known it would be only a matter of time before Jacob caved into loneliness and begged Deanna to come home. There had been moments that she was tempted to call him or drop by the house to check on him and the boys, but she’d resisted. She didn’t want to give Jacob any reason to think she believed anything was her fault. By now he should be racked with guilt for sending her over the edge like that, and for allowing the college (and Aliyah) to secure a restraining order against her.
But she would forgive Jacob, Deanna decided as she put her ear to the phone and answered the call. That was the right thing to do. Be the bigger person, she told herself. A smirk crawled on her face as she softly said, “Hello?” She wanted him to hear the sensuality in her voice. She wanted him to hear an independent, confident woman who didn’t need him, not a broken, helpless woman pining over him.
“As-salaamu’alaikum,” Jacob said.
“Wa’alaiku-mus-salaam wa-rahmatullaah,” Deanna sang, as if pleasantly surprised to hear from him.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said hesitantly. “Is now a good time?”
Deanna’s lips twitched as she suppressed a smile, unable to contain her sense of triumph. I’ll give him a hard time, she decided mischievously. Then I’ll put on something nice, drive back home, and slip into bed next to him. “Um…” she said, feigning doubt. “…I’m in the middle of something, but—”
“Then I’ll just call back la—”
“No, no,” she said, perhaps too quickly. “It’s okay. I can step away for a moment and talk to you, no problem.” She sat on the bed and toyed with her hair as she held the phone to her ear. “What’s on your mind, baby?”
“I want a divorce.”
For a fleeting moment, Deanna felt faint. It was as if she were in the church basement and Jacob glared condescendingly at her while his words conveyed comfort and affection. In her mind’s eye, Jacob smirked as he approached sneakily, giving her a once-over before holding her in a suffocating embrace.
“Baby,” she said, laughing throatily, nervousness and panic pricking her all over. “You don’t want a divorce. You just want to talk.” She spoke as if convincing a young child. “You’re upset, and you’re not thinking straight.” She laughed again and tugged at a lock of hair. “Forget Aliyah. Don’t listen to her silly suggestions. She’s not right for you. I am.”
“This isn’t about Aliyah. This is about us. I want a divorce,” he said again, more resolute this time. “But Allah says reconciliation is best, so I’m calling to ask what is most comfortable for you. Marriage counseling or—”
Deanna laughed out loud, hoping in that sound that Jacob would see the ridiculousness of his words. “No, no, baby. We don’t need marriage counseling. We work things out on our own.”
She smirked as an idea came to her suddenly. “I’ll tell you what,” she said. “I’ll come over now, then we can—”
“No,” Jacob said so sternly that Deanna flinched. “I’m not interested in sexual manipulation. We need arbitration from our families, or we need a good marriage counselor. Which is it?”
The question hung in the air like a hard slap.
Deanna’s chin trembled in fury and she lifted a side of her upper lip in a sneer, the passing silence a stubborn impasse.
“I’ll take that as you trust my judgment,” Jacob said after more than a minute passed. “Insha’Allah, I’ll let you know what I decide. As-salaamu’alaikum wa-rahmatullah.”
The silence was more definite this time, and Deanna could barely breathe for the shock she felt right then.
“I don’t let that man worry me,” her mother had said years ago when Deanna complained about how stubborn her father was. “He can huff and puff and act like a slighted king if he wants. But I hold the keys to that kingdom. Yeah, I’ll smile and play the good wife so he feels like a man. But when that door closes,” she said, gesturing toward the bedroom, “I’m the master.” Her mother laughed. “And I’ll tell you what. Once I’m done with him, he can’t even remember what he was upset about.”
Deanna glanced at the clock on the wall then quickly opened the walk-in closet and wheeled out her luggage. She kneeled and unzipped the bag and yanked out several pieces of lingerie that she had stashed there.
***
Jacob’s thoughts were distracted as he walked to Younus and Thawab’s room. Even as Jacob opened the room door and told his sons to shut down the game, he sensed an urgency greater than school that made him insist that they go to bed right away. But it wasn’t until he had prayed, taken a shower, and rubbed cologne on his chest that he was able to fully admit he was hoping Deanna would come home tonight.
His rational mind told him that now wasn’t the time to give into carnal weakness, but physically, he yearned for his wife’s body next to his. The chemistry between them was so compelling that at times he imagined that, based on intimacy alone, he could remain with Deanna forever. But Jacob hated the man he had become with her. Perpetual stress numbed him into inactivity, and he was morphing into only a shell of the man he used to be. He was beginning to feel as if he was trapped inside his own body.
Jacob climbed into bed and pulled the heavy covers over him, his thoughts muddled as he imagined the pleasurable release Deanna’s arrival would bring.
You know you love me. In the space between sleep and wakefulness, Jacob heard Deanna’s coquettish teasing. So shut up about all that silly divorce talk. You know you can never live without me. Who would want you anyway? A throaty laugh and playful wink. I’ll see to that. So don’t mess with me, boy. I’ll make your life hell. I’ll take your sons from you, and you’ll never see them again…
At the sound of a door closing, Jacob jolted awake, sitting up in bed. Heart racing, his thoughts instinctively went to Younus and Thawab. Would Deanna stoop that low? The trepidation gripped him until his breath caught. Panicked, he threw the comforter from his body. Wearing only boxer shorts, he pulled the bedroom door open, the brass door handle banging against the wall as he rushed out. He was panting when he opened the door to his sons’ room and found them sleeping peacefully, the covers pulled up to their shoulders. Jacob exhaled in a single breath, throwing his back against the doorway and rolling his eyes to the ceiling in exhausted gratefulness.
“As-salaamu’alaikum, baby.”
The scent of Deanna’s perfume tickled Jacob’s nostrils, and the sound of her voice prickled his skin. Yet the lull of her presence alone sent his heart racing in desire before he even turned his head.
“Is everything okay?” Deanna said flirtatiously.
Jacob met her gaze just as her soft, long fingers cradled the closely cropped beard of his face. Before he could speak, she drew him into a passionate kiss. His shoulders fell, the tense agitation leaving as Deanna dropped her arms and massaged his lower back.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, her sweet breath warm against his face. “I forgive you. We don’t have to talk about it anymore.”
Don’t mess with me, boy. I’ll make your life hell. I’ll take your sons from you, and you’ll never see them again…
Jacob jerked his head back, and he gripped her arms and pulled them from his back. “No,” he said, catching his breath as he stepped backwards. “We will talk about this. I want a divorce, and if you don’t—”
Deanna stepped forward and slapped him hard, interrupting him midsentence. “Shut up, Jacob.” She then pushed his chest in rebuke before kissing him again. “You’re not leaving me.” Her voice was soft and stern. “You wouldn’t know what to do without me.” She kissed him again, a sneer lingering on her face. “You think that pathetic excuse for a woman who just takes up earth space can ever do for you what I do? I did you a favor by telling her to marry Matt. She isn’t good enough for you.”
Jacob swatted Deanna’s hand away and abruptly turned his back. As he walked toward their bedroom, he felt himself unraveling as fury and desire enveloped him at once. He yearned for Deanna in a maddening way, and he hated himself for it. No, Jacob had no problem enjoying the halaal intimacy of his wife that night, but if he gave in before she acknowledged the legitimacy of his concerns, he feared that he would fall back into the clutches of Deanna’s physical and psychological manipulation. Like the bright smile she wore to deny her own pain, she imagined that sex would do the same for him; and he refused to be an accessory to her emotional crime against the soul.
O Allah, give me strength, he silently prayed as he heard Deanna’s soft footsteps trailing behind him.
“If you want me,” he said, his voice firm as Deanna closed the bedroom door and locked it, “then listen to me first.”
Deanna smiled teasingly as she walked slowly toward him and slipped off her outer garment to reveal the lingerie she wore beneath.
Frustrated with her stubbornness and his own carnal weakness, Jacob walked past her, turned the lock and yanked open the bedroom door, then walked quickly down the hall. His head cleared with each heavy footfall upon the steps until he was at the sliding glass door next to the dining room. He unlocked it and slid it open, not caring that a peeping neighbor might see him dressed in only his boxers.
The pavement of the basketball court was cool beneath Jacob’s bare feet, and the May night air was tolerably warm. He raised his eyes toward the sky as he drew in a breath and exhaled, confounded by the mixture of desire and contempt he held for his wife.
I did you a favor by telling her to marry Matt. She isn’t good enough for you.
Maybe Aliyah isn’t good for me, Jacob thought reflectively. It was entirely possible that his persistent desire to marry Aliyah merely represented his desperation to escape a toxic relationship. Perhaps Aliyah was merely symbolic of what he longed for in a wife. Educated and intelligent. Humble and reserved. No, this was not what he merely wanted in a wife. It was what he needed. Cocky and forward women had always annoyed him (at least outside the bedroom), and his tumultuous relationship with Deanna only confirmed that sentiment. If he were to maintain his sanity and thwart further emasculation, he needed to release himself from Deanna’s claws.
Men are the protectors and maintainers of women, because Allah has given the one more [strength] than the other, and because they support them from their means. Therefore, the righteous women are devoutly obedient, and guard in [the husband's] absence what Allah would have them guard.
A sad smile formed on Jacob’s face as he recalled reading that Qur’anic passage shortly after becoming Muslim. He had been so naïve at the time. He had actually imagined that all Muslim women embodied the meaning of that verse. It hadn’t occurred to him that his experience with women as a Muslim wouldn’t differ too greatly from his experiences with women as a Christian. He hadn’t known that it might prove impossible to find any woman whose character and lifestyle reflected that of a righteous believing woman.
And he hadn’t known that it might prove impossible to find within himself the character and lifestyle that reflected that of a righteous believing man.
The sound of the glass door being slid shut prompted Jacob to turn around and look toward the house. He saw Deanna, still in her black lingerie, glowering at him as she stood on the other side of the glass. The glow of the dining room light illuminated her fair caramel skin and incited a flicker of longing in Jacob. But the sight of her hand securing the lock, her angry glare unmoving, sapped any lingering desire from him.
***
Early Friday morning, Aliyah stood in front of the photocopy machine in the office supply room. She held a stack of exam papers in her hand as she hesitantly poked at buttons with her free hand. Her eyebrows were drawn together as she studied the changing icons on the glowing blue display. Collated. Stapled. Two-sided. For all her wits in math and science, Aliyah was continuously confounded by the department’s high-tech copy machine. She bit her lower lip nervously as she keyed in 70 copies, wondering if she should calm her anxiousness to get this over with and just do one sample copy before risking facing the even more daunting task of interrupting a copy job in progress.
“Do you have a moment?”
Exams still in hand, Aliyah turned from where she stood and found Jacob in the doorway, a look of exhaustion and concern on his face.
“Is everything okay?” Aliyah said.
Jacob’s lips formed a thin line in an effort to decide the best way to respond. “I don’t know,” he said. He exhaled as if in confession. “Dr. Warren wants to talk to both of us.”
“When?” Aliyah’s voice was etched in concern.
“In thirty minutes,” he said. “But you and I need to meet before then, if that’s okay.”
Aliyah nodded as she glanced toward the copy machine, realizing she would have to photocopy the exams later. “Okay,” she said, surprised that she found her voice with the apprehension she felt right then. She pressed cancel and followed Jacob out the supply room and down the hall leading to his office, exam papers still in her hand.
This was the moment that Aliyah had feared when she first began working at the college. After her probationary period had passed and she signed her full-time employment contract, she’d thought the worst was over. But now she wasn’t so sure. A twinge of panic stabbed her chest as Jacob unlocked his office and pushed the door open, stepping to the side so that Aliyah could enter. Was she going to lose her job today? Where would she live? How would she take care of Ibrahim? Would she have to relinquish the little time she spent with her son?
“Please sit down,” Jacob said, gesturing toward the seat opposite his desk as she walked past him and he secured the door stopper.
Aliyah lowered herself into the chair and set the stack of exams on her lap then nervously rested her hands atop.
“I won’t take too much of your time,” Jacob said as he pulled out his leather swivel chair and sat down.
Aliyah nodded, apprehensive.
“Firstly,” he said, holding onto the handles of his chair as he moved himself closer to the desk, “how are you? I know a lot has been going on, and I apologize that we haven’t been able to meet officially before now.”
Aliyah felt a tinge of discomfort with the question. She had no idea how to respond. She was still at a loss regarding what exactly had triggered Deanna’s vicious attack, and daily she battled the feeling of suffocating mortification every time she stepped into work. Since the incident, Aliyah had developed the habit of coming in at least thirty minutes early just to avoid the humiliation of withstanding the scrutinizing judgment and relentless whispers while she stood in line to swipe her badge.
“I’m okay, alhamdulillah,” she said finally, deciding that was a safe response.
“That’s good. That’s good.” Jacob nodded, but his expression suggested that his thoughts were elsewhere.
Aliyah’s heart constricted, fearing that Dr. Warren had given Jacob the onerous task of telling her that her employment contract was being suspended prematurely. Yes, she was a full-time employee now, but she didn’t have tenure. Aliyah imagined that allowing a non-employee a key to her office was serious enough grounds to let her go, especially since it had led to the school placing a restraining order against Deanna. Aliyah wouldn’t be surprised if the president of the college himself had suggested firing her.
“Professor Thomas…” Jacob began. “No,” he said, stopping himself as if self-rebuke. “Aliyah,” he corrected, meeting her gaze pointedly. “I’m sorry for what happened here a couple of weeks ago, and I apologize for not apologizing sooner.”
Aliyah furrowed her brows and shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault. Deanna was probably upset because—”
“No,” he interrupted, raising a palm to stop her. “It was my fault, and it is my fault.”
“But Deanna is just—”
“Deanna is just my wife,” he said. “So if she comes here and attacks anyone, especially you, it’s my fault. There’s no other way around it.”
Aliyah started to say something but decided against it when she saw the serious look on Jacob’s face.
“And I say especially you because there is a longstanding history of Deanna being upset that I ever wanted to marry you. And she’s never forgiven me for talking to the college on your behalf.” He frowned. “She remains convinced that you and I are planning to run off together and get married in secret.”
Aliyah shook her head. “Is this because of that phone call you made?” Aliyah knew Jacob’s phone call to her uncle had happened months after she was hired at the college, but Aliyah was beginning to wonder if Jacob had spoken his thoughts aloud before then.
Jacob shook his head. “No. This problem started twelve years ago when Deanna invited me to a campus dinner hosted by the MSA.”
Aliyah nodded. “I remember that dinner. That was the night Deanna told me about Matt.”
Jacob looked troubled by something, but he went on. “I didn’t want to go to that dinner, but when I got there, I was glad I came. Even when I was a teenager, I had in my mind what I wanted in a wife. She would be educated and intelligent,” I told myself, “yet humble and reserved.” A shadow of sadness passed over his face. “But I’d begun to think she didn’t exist.”
Aliyah smiled in understanding as she recalled Deanna telling her something similar. Deanna had said that she had begun to think her soul mate didn’t exist, but everything changed after talking to Jacob during the MSA dinner. “Girl, with all the fireworks between us, we had to get married.” After all that had happened between Aliyah and Deanna, compounded by the stress that Jacob was under after the incident, it was comforting to hear Jacob allude to a softer, more romantic side of his relationship with Deanna.
“I know you’re not interested in the entire backstory of my marriage,” Jacob said apologetically, “but I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I think it’s important for you to understand everything, especially since it has affected you directly.”
Aliyah nodded. “It’s okay. I appreciate the explanation.”
“Well, when I got to the dinner,” Jacob said, “I saw a woman leaning against a wall reading a book.”
Aliyah looked at Jacob curiously. She didn’t know that Deanna had been reading a book that night. Aliyah was usually the one who brought books everywhere while Deanna insisted that it was anti-social and rude to read while others were present.
“And my first thought was, She’s the one,” Jacob said. “I hadn’t met her yet, and I didn’t know her name. But when I looked at her, I saw my wife. Educated and intelligent, yet humble and reserved, I thought to myself. And all I did for the rest of the night was try to get closer to her so I could introduce myself. Even as I sat with Deanna in the hallway that night, all I could think about was the woman in the green hijab.”
Aliyah averted her gaze as she got the odd sensation that this story wasn’t going in the direction that she had expected.
“So I asked Deanna who the woman was, and she told me that she was her best friend Aliyah.”
Aliyah narrowed her eyes in sudden understanding, recalling Larry alluding to Deanna being upset that Jacob had helped a woman he’d once wanted to marry. “So then…” Aliyah said, unable to give words to the question in her mind.
“I know this all might sound odd, especially since it happened so long ago,” Jacob said. “But bear with me, and insha’Allah, you’ll see how it’s all connected to what’s happening now.”
Aliyah shook her head, forehead creased. “It’s just... subhaanAllah.” She shook her head again. “I’m sorry. Go on.”
“But when I asked about you, Deanna told me you were already engaged and that—”
“Engaged?” Aliyah said, taken aback.
“I know,” Jacob said, a sad smile on his face as he shook his head. “I’m still trying to make sense of it all myself.”
“But I don’t get it. If you two had just met, why would she care what you thought of me?”
Jacob frowned thoughtfully. “Some people think of love as a finders-keepers territorial mission,” he said. “In their world, not even the person they love has the right to refuse.”
“But that is so…” Aliyah contorted her face as she searched for the right word. “…wrong.”
“I agree,” Jacob said. “But bear in mind that these are not conscious motives. My personal assessment of people of this mindset is that they’re taught from young that humans are objects. Of course, they’re not taught this outright, but the message is clear nonetheless.”
“I read a book about that once,” Aliyah said reflectively. “It was saying that unresolved trauma causes a lot of that.”
Jacob nodded noncommittally. “That’s possible.”
Aliyah sensed that there was something about Deanna that Jacob was not saying, and she immediately grew concerned. Though her curiosity was piqued, she decided against speaking her thoughts aloud. She didn’t want to put Jacob in the uncomfortable position of discussing more about his wife than he felt compelled to already. She imagined that this conversation alone was stressful and embarrassing for him.
“But Deanna didn’t only say that you were engaged,” Jacob said, returning to the backstory of his marriage. “For all intents and purposes she said that you were a helpless mental case who couldn’t even tie your shoelaces without her support.”
Aliyah’s face twisted in offense. “What?”
“I know this is difficult to listen to,” Jacob said, apology in his tone. “And trust me, it’s difficult to tell. But I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I think it’s only fair that you know what you’re dealing with. If Deanna is physically attacking you for something that started twelve years ago, then most likely, this problem isn’t going anywhere any time soon.”
“What else did she say?” Aliyah’s voice was tight in fury.
“That’s the gist of it,” Jacob said. “And I admit, I was a bit skeptical when she said it because it didn’t match what I sensed from you. But I hadn’t met you yet, and she’d known you for years. So I had no choice but to trust her judgment.”
Aliyah rolled her eyes. “You had a choice,” she said, surprised by her sudden frankness. “And I’m not talking about choosing Deanna over me because I didn’t know you at that time.” A voice in her head told her to calm down, but she was tired of keeping her feelings inside. Why did people feel that they could mistreat nice people, or let others do it on their behalf? “But you did not have to believe those lies about me. You didn’t know Deanna either, so why did you believe her?”
“I’m sorry, Aliyah. I didn’t mean—”
“Please, Jacob,” Aliyah said, lifting her hand, “don’t try to defend what you did. It was wrong. Yes, Deanna was wrong to slander me, but you were wrong to just sit there and soak it all in. And now you’re saying you had no choice but to trust her?” Aliyah narrowed her eyes as she looked at Jacob. “Do you really believe that?
“You have to teach people how to treat you,” Aliyah’s mother used to say whenever someone had bullied Aliyah and she chose to walk away. “You keep on walking away and people will keep on bullying you.” But Aliyah never understood that logic. No, Aliyah wasn’t so naïve as to assume that she should never fight back. But she didn’t understand the point of always fighting back. What was wrong with avoiding confrontations? Every battle simply wasn’t worth fighting. Besides, what was the point of fighting someone who was really battling their own ego and insecurity?
When Aliyah was in high school, classmates would constantly taunt her and pick fights, but Aliyah saw right through their twisted expressions, childish insults, and heartless bullying. When they called her conceited, they were really saying, I see something admirable in you that I don’t see in myself. When they said she thought she was too good to hang out with them, they were really saying, We’d love for you to join us and don’t understand why you won’t. When they said she was “too nice,” they were really saying, It’s frustrating that we can’t find fault in you. When they said she was a coward and a punk, they were really saying, We hate that you won’t stoop to our level and try to harm us like we harm you.
On the rare occasions that Aliyah did speak up—for herself or someone else—she was called arrogant and judgmental. It seemed she could never win. Her silence was cowardice, and her fighting back was arrogance. Whenever she attended an event or visited someone’s house, she’d hear later that something she said (or didn’t say) was wrong, offensive, or self-righteous. It got to the point that social interactions, especially in large crowds, caused her so much stress and anxiety that she developed frequent headaches and heart palpitations at the thought of going anywhere. “Focus on what you’re supposed to be doing, ” her father used to say, so that’s what Aliyah strove to do. But Aliyah had yet to develop a healthy coping strategy when she or someone else was slandered or wronged.
“I don’t know what I believe anymore,” Jacob said. “But looking back, perhaps I could have handled things differently.”
“Perhaps?” Aliyah recoiled.
“Yes, perhaps,” Jacob said firmly. “I don’t fault you for being upset, and you have every right to be. But I’m not going to blame myself for assuming that a fellow Muslim was speaking truthfully, especially about her own best friend.”
“You could have spoken up and stopped her.”
“And you could have spoken up and stopped me from marrying her,” he said defensively. “How can you expect me to see through Deanna after five minutes of talking to her when you couldn’t even see through her after years of being her best friend?”
Aliyah didn’t know what to say to that, but it was difficult to let go of her offense. It hurt that it was so easy to have your honor destroyed. Beyond the anxiety she battled in large gatherings, one reason Aliyah didn’t socialize more was that many Muslims weren’t too different from her high school classmates. They were constantly finding fault, assuming the worst, and rushing to pass judgment. If you didn’t look like them, act like them, and think like them, then you enjoyed few (if any) rights of a fellow Muslim.
“But the purpose of this meeting is not to cast blame,” Jacob said. “I can blame myself, and you can blame yourself. I can blame you, and you can blame me. But what good does that do? What’s more important is that we’re aware of the problem in front of us. I’m not even interested in blaming Deanna. Allah has recorded her deeds, and He has recorded ours. But the only deeds we’re answering for are our own.”
Jacob’s words incited shame and regret in Aliyah, and she dropped her gaze to her folded hands.
“I asked to meet with you because, as Deanna’s husband, I had the responsibility to protect and help her, and because I’ve failed in that, I was ill-equipped to protect and help you.”
Aliyah frowned, her gaze thoughtful and distant.
“But, in a way, we’re all to blame,” Jacob said reflectively. “Muslim leadership, religious communities, and regular people like you and I. Whatever Deanna’s issues are, they didn’t happen overnight. Someone taught her that Islam solves all your problems, and that being strong and religious is mutually exclusive to feeling helpless and broken. Someone taught her that vulnerability is weakness, and that it’s never okay to not be okay. And as long as any of us believes that, we have only one guarantee,” Jacob said. “We’ll never be okay.”
***
Whatever misfortune happens to you, is because of what your [own] hands have wrought. But He pardons [and forgives] much.
This was the Qur’anic verse that came to mind as Deanna stood opposite her father Friday morning, her bundle of keys still in her hand after letting herself inside. Shortly before driving back to her parents’ house, Deanna had given into the guilt gnawing at her conscience, and she’d forced herself to do at least something remotely spiritual. She had not prayed a single prayer in more than two weeks, so to quell her guilt, she decided to read something from the Qur’an. She had no idea if it was coincidence or a sign from God that she happened upon that verse, but she’d promptly closed the Qur’an, having had enough spiritual “inspiration” for one day.
“You know why this happened, right?” her father said, disappointment written on his face.
Deanna winced as she recalled waking up in the early hours of morning to find Jacob walking out of the master bathroom, his face and arms wet with the water of wudhoo’. The sight of him had been so unexpected that she almost screamed. She had thought he was still behind the house, perhaps tossing around a basketball or banging on the back door, or even sleeping on the pavement until she let him in. She had no idea how he had managed to get back inside. Did he pick the lock? she wondered. If he did, she thought, confounded, the alarm system should have gone off.
“No, I don’t,” Deanna said to her father, her voice clipped as she tried to control the annoyance she felt at his interrogation.
“Then I divorce you.” Those were Jacob’s first words after greeting Deanna with salaams and asking, for the umpteenth time, if she was willing to seek arbitration or go to marriage counseling. “We don’t need marriage counseling,” she’d retorted. “You’re the only one with a problem.”
“You know why this happened, right?” her father said again, as if daring her not to respond.
Deanna clamped her jaw closed in aggravation. She was thirty-six years old, but right then she felt like an eight-year-old child. Would her father ever treat her like a grown woman? During her youth, Deanna had admired her father’s encompassing knowledge and unwavering strength. He knew everything, she used to muse. But now she had trouble maintaining a respectful countenance. She knew what he was hinting at, but she refused to take the bait.
“It’s because you want to do things your way,” he said, his voice rising. “I told you years ago not to get involved with those Muslims. But you didn’t listen to me.”
Deanna averted her gaze as if out of respect, but she was struggling to maintain her composure.
He shook his head knowingly, a troubled expression on his face. “But we love you,” he said, his rough tone sounding odd with those words. “So you’re always welcomed here.”
Deanna nodded gratefully because that’s what she was expected to do. But the truth was, she didn’t need to be at her parents’ home. She could return to her own house whenever she wanted. The school had a restraining order against her; her husband didn’t. Jacob and Deanna were still married, despite Jacob’s diarrhea of the mouth imagining that he could utter some religious incantation and suddenly end their lifetime commitment together. She had come home only because she needed time to herself and because she needed the company of people who loved and cared for her and because she needed to brainstorm on how to make Jacob regret that he’d ever uttered those words.
“But your mother and I are not going to repeat the mistakes we made when you were young,” her father said. “We gave you far too much freedom, so now we’re going to lay down some ground rules.”
Internally, Deanna groaned.
“You’re coming to church with us. Every Sunday,” he added firmly. “And we’re going to have some long talks about what it means to live an upright, God-fearing life.”
“Dad,” Deanna said, unable to keep quiet any longer, but she kept her voice controlled out of respect, “I already have a religion.”
He snorted. “As we can all see.”
Deanna knew that his sarcastic remark was in reference to the “crazy Muslim woman” saga that had only recently begun to die down, but she did not want to dignify his comment with a response.
“But what we’re going to do,” he said, “is remind you what real religion looks like, and that’s at God’s House of Worship.”
Deanna’s legs grew weak. It was at this church that her cousin Bailey had violated her when she was eight and he was eighteen. In her mind’s eye, she saw Bailey glaring at her in front of the pews. “If you tell anybody about this,” he’d said after he destroyed her innocence, “I’ll kill you.”
“That girl is crazy,” Deanna’s father had said when she was thirteen and had written a letter detailing what Bailey did to her. “There’s no way anything like that happened to her. Bailey was a good kid. He wouldn’t hurt anyone. And if it did happen, why did she wait so long to say anything? You saw how she was always walking around in those slutty clothes. The poor boy’s been through so much, he probably thought she was seducing him.”
“Is that clear?” Deanna’s father said pointedly, waiting for Deanna to meet his gaze.
Distracted by the anxiety she felt at going back to the church from which she’d sought escape for so long, Deanna shrugged in acquiescence, unable to find her voice.
“When I get famous, I’m going to be Niecey Meesy…” eight-year-old Deanna had said to her cousin after he’d said her stage name was stupid—and before he had morphed into the monster who attacked her. “…and I won’t even give you an autograph.”
Deanna’s head snapped to the side, and she stumbled backward from the force of her father’s slap. “Don’t you ever shrug your shoulders at me,” he said, his eyes menacing as he pointed a thick finger against her forehead. “When I address you with words, you address me with words. I. Am. Your. Father.”
Deanna nodded dumbly. “I’m sorry, Dad,” she said quickly. “I was just—”
“I don’t care what you were just doing,” he interrupted indignantly. “You speak to me like you know who I am. I brought you into this world, and I can take you out. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Dad,” Deanna said, subdued, dropping her head in shame. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be,” he said, abruptly turning his back as he flipped his hand dismissively. “Now get out of my study.”
***
“I think you both know why I asked you here,” Dr. Warren said. She removed her reading glasses and set them on a manila folder on her desk. She leaned back in her chair and frowned thoughtfully. “Dr. Bivens, I have spoken to you at length about my concerns about any family coming to our offices during work hours, and you assured me that it’s all under control. I hope this remains the case?”
“Yes, it does.” Jacob spoke with humbled confidence from where he sat in the chair next to Aliyah opposite the department supervisor.
Dr. Warren looked toward Aliyah. “Professor Thomas, I’m confident that you are now fully aware of the serious repercussions of a non-employee holding a key to your office, even if the person is a close friend and family member of another employee.”
Aliyah nodded. “Yes, and I apologize for that. It won’t happen again.”
You did not have to believe those lies about me…You could have spoken up and stopped her.
It was then that the realization came to Jacob. Aliyah is right. If nothing else, he could have challenged Deanna’s perspective by offering a less incriminating perspective of his Muslim sister (even if he didn’t know her).
With Aliyah, everything is melodramatic. It’s like she can’t tie her shoelaces without my support. I swear, sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in a codependent relationship or something. It’s so exhausting…I feel sorry for her fiancé.
Was this unabashed character assassination what Jacob felt he’d had no choice but to believe? No one in his right mind would interpret those pernicious words as helpful information or sincere advice. Deanna hadn’t even shared anything specific about Aliyah except that she had a “strained relationship” with her family. But even this neutral information Deanna managed to twist in the most defamatory way. To me, that’s just pathetic. If you can’t find a way to have a good relationship with your own parents, then that says a lot about your Islam.
O Allah, Jacob thought to himself. How did I end up with someone like this as a wife?
“However,” Dr. Warren continued, “my reason for calling this meeting at a moment’s notice is that it has just come to my attention that the incident that precipitated the trespass and assault two weeks ago was you two entering into a bigamous marital arrangement based on your religious customs.”
Jacob sensed Aliyah’s shock, but he willed himself to keep his gaze focused on Dr. Warren. Ten minutes before, he had divulged to Aliyah his conversation with Benjamin and Sayed on the Friday before Deanna’s attack. “I’d definitely marry Aliyah,” Jacob had said that day. “If she would have me. And now that it looks like it might not work out between her and Larry, I might start making some extra prayers. But my wife would kill me, so unless Aliyah agrees to be a secret second wife, I don’t think I’ll be so lucky.” By far, this had been the most self-incriminating part of his backstory, and he wished he didn’t have to share it. But if he was going to be completely forthcoming, he had to share his part in what had happened, not only his wife’s. “But I was joking,” he had assured Aliyah. “It’s something we brothers do all the time. I meant no disrespect, and I’m sorry you had to learn about it at all.”
“That is untrue,” Jacob said to the department supervisor, voice firm. “But I take full responsibility for that misunderstanding. For some time, there have been a lot of misunderstandings regarding my relationship with Professor Thomas.”
“Well,” Dr. Warren said, “in either case, I want to be clear about something. As a general rule, I stay out of the private lives of the faculty and staff here. As you know, we have a strict policy against any romantic trysts within the same department, and especially between a tenured professor and a new employee, which we view as not too different from the romantic involvement of a professor with a student.”
“We understand that.” As soon as he said it, Jacob sensed Aliyah cringing next to him. You shouldn’t say “we,” he mentally scolded himself. It sounds like there’s something inappropriate going on.
“Then let me be frank,” Dr. Warren said. “Our department, like most others at this institution, have for some time looked the other way when colleagues have carried out their romantic liaisons and extra marital affairs. This is because we don’t believe in policing the sexual lives of adults. In fact, as you know, Dr. Bivens,” she nodded toward Jacob, “as an atheist, I have strong opinions against mandated moral codes of any kind, especially those borrowed from religion. So I’m not a fan of our college’s intradepartmental policy against sexual relationships. However, I do understand the professional wisdom in establishing these codes.”
Dr. Warren leaned back in her seat, raising a forefinger to let Jacob and Aliyah know that she wasn’t finished. “But neither the school nor I can look the other way if any of these liaisons culminate into marriage, especially an illegal marriage. A state-recognized marriage itself would cast a wide net of suspicion on our entire department regarding what we allowed to go on here,” she said. “How much more the crime of bigamy?”
“I understand,” Jacob said, consciously leaving off the plural pronoun. “You don’t have to worry about that happening.”
“I hope you’re right,” Dr. Warren said, her eyes traveling between Jacob and Aliyah skeptically. “Because any evidence of a marriage taking place would be cause for the school to relieve you both of your positions, effective immediately. Despite your tenure,” she added, looking pointedly at Jacob. “So if you two ever do decide that you want to be more than mere colleagues, make sure that it doesn’t happen at work and that it doesn’t involve marriage.”
As Aliyah stood to leave, Jacob stepped toward Dr. Warren’s desk to ask her a question about the One Plus One mentorship program. It wasn’t an urgent or important question, but he wanted to allow Aliyah time to walk ahead of him to her office.
Minutes later, Jacob walked toward the lecture hall where he had scheduled a review session for a final exam, and his body was overcome with exhaustion. After Deanna locked him out of his house, he had waited several hours before attempting to come back inside. He didn’t want to arouse Deanna’s suspicions and risk her discovering that he kept a copy of the house key hidden away outside. Years ago, Deanna had locked him out of the house while he was taking out the garbage and wearing only a bathrobe. He’d rung the doorbell and banged on the door repeatedly while she haughtily ignored him and climbed into bed and slept for half the day.
Jacob clenched his teeth and shook his head, indignant. This is no way to live.
Even if Deanna agreed to arbitration or marriage counseling, could he continue to live with her?