Troubled Waters
Benjamin opened the door to his home early Saturday afternoon, and Aliyah heaved a sigh of relief when she stepped inside and saw both Jacob and Larry sitting on the couch in the living room. She had seen Jacob’s car in the driveway and had begun to feel anxious about her husband being Benjamin’s only male company. She didn’t want her mother to suspect anything about her and Jacob’s relationship. Naomi was visiting her sister Valerie, so whomever Benjamin entertained wouldn’t be Naomi’s concern. But Aliyah wanted to be careful. She had no idea what her mother was up to, showing up suddenly after more than ten years of refusing to even answer any phone calls or respond to a postcard.
Aliyah released Ibrahim’s hand as she kneeled to take off her shoes, and her son followed suit. After aligning the two pairs of shoes on the rack, she stood and creased her forehead in confusion when she saw a strange man sitting on the couch to the right of Jacob, Larry on the left. Her aunt Valerie sat across from them on the loveseat, but Aliyah didn’t see her mother anywhere.
Aliyah’s eyes scanned the living room then met her uncle’s with a question on her face. He discreetly nodded his head in the direction of the hall, and Aliyah understood that her mother had stepped out briefly, perhaps to the bathroom.
Aliyah’s heart hammered nervously at the realization that her mother was nearby. Aliyah had no idea what to do with herself. She didn’t see any place to sit except on the leather recliner, but she assumed her mother had been sitting there. She stepped into the living room, a tentative smile on her face, Ibrahim clinging uncertainly at her side.
“I’m Joseph.”
Aliyah started, her shoulders jerking. The strange man seemed to have leapt from the couch and appeared before her suddenly, offering her a wide smile. It took several seconds for her to register his outstretched hand as he leaned forward in a stance of eager cordiality.
“Joseph Daniels,” he said. “Cassie’s husband.”
The words Cassie and husband didn’t seem to belong together, though Benjamin had told Aliyah years ago that Cassie was married. At the time, Aliyah had imagined Cassie’s husband to be a feral-type creature with an evil countenance and only slightly human features, much like Cassie herself existed in Aliyah’s mind. Growing up, Aliyah had often been told that she and Cassie resembled each other, and in her infantile naiveté, Aliyah had actually taken it as compliment. It was hard to believe that Cassie, with her sassy attitude and downright cruelty even so many years ago, had been beautiful to Aliyah once upon a time.
But who was this man with a kind face and easy smile, standing before her as if he was honored to merely be in her presence? If he had not introduced himself as such, Aliyah would have doubted that he had any connection to her sister Cassie. Based on Joseph’s amiability and charisma alone, Aliyah wanted to offer him a wide smile and eagerly accept his peace offering in the form of a handshake. Everything about him said family, real family. He gave off the type of warm, genuine vibe that made it almost painful to not greet him with an all-out hug.
Instinctively, Aliyah glanced uncertainly at Jacob, whose expression was one of polite amusement. But Aliyah could see in his eyes reluctant disapproval of Joseph’s gesture. If it were Jacob’s home, he would most likely have intervened to politely discourage Joseph from shaking her hand. But Jacob was supposed to be merely a friend of Benjamin’s, ostensibly with no significant connection to Aliyah. Though his intervention could be interpreted as merely friendly, for Aliyah’s sake, Jacob was opting not to take the risk.
“Nice to meet you again, Joseph,” Benjamin called out from behind them, stepping between Joseph and Aliyah in one motion, causing Aliyah to stumble back slightly. In a brotherly greeting, Benjamin slapped hands with Joseph then shook his hand firmly before guiding him back to his seat on the couch. Joseph’s grin grew lopsided in confusion as he moved awkwardly backwards, his eyes narrowed humorously as if expecting an immediate explanation for Benjamin’s apparent joke.
“As you know,” Benjamin said good-naturedly, the expectant grin still on Joseph’s face as his body reconnected with the couch, “this is my niece, Ally. But we call her Aliyah. That’s her Muslim name.” He offered Joseph a polite smile. “Muslim women don’t shake hands with men.”
Joseph’s face fell in embarrassment as he leaned back into the couch. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay,” Aliyah cut in affably, flipping her hand dismissively to lighten the blow. “It happens all the time.”
“Cassie never told me,” he said, an embarrassed smile twitching at one side of his mouth. “So I didn’t—”
“Cassie never told you what?”
The voice was thunderous in its authoritative tone, the familiar sound immediately inciting fear that twisted into a knot at the pit of Aliyah’s stomach. Even before Naomi came into view, Aliyah felt her mother’s towering presence. It was like Aliyah was a child all over again and in trouble for something she had no idea she’d done but was going to pay for mightily nonetheless.
Aliyah stiffened as her gaze met her mother’s. But the fear loosened at the sight of Naomi’s thin frame and level height. Naomi’s expression was stern, but her aging brown face was weathered with the taut pride that was the signature of one who hid spiritual and emotional weakness behind formidable strength. In that moment, Aliyah’s fear dissolved into sorrow that was so pained that it permeated every limb to physical weakness, and Aliyah felt too weak to stand. I don’t want my mother in Hellfire! Childlike panic suffocated Aliyah and constricted her chest.
“Come here, baby,” Naomi uttered in a tone that teetered between rebuke and compassion. A thin smile fought its way to her closed lips, but it was apparent that even this slight expression taxed Naomi to the point of emotional strain.
Aliyah offered an equally hesitant smile, but because she was holding back emotion more than she was fabricating it. Aliyah embraced her mother, slowly shutting her eyes as she inhaled the sweet scent of her mother’s perfume, relaxing in that gesture. The aroma made Aliyah forget her agony of moments before and incited in her the assurance that she had a family and that she was loved. She had forgotten how it felt to belong to something bigger than herself, a collection of spirits bonded by the cozy shelter once offered by one woman’s womb.
But Naomi’s arms felt like steel bars locked around Aliyah’s torso. Naomi’s body was a steel rod in Aliyah’s grip, erected in a show of obligatory affection that a mother long absent could not withhold from her child. It was in that fleeting moment that Aliyah sensed a cold barrier drop between them, a silent but resounding thud confirming that the battle lines were being drawn and that her mother was there to win.
Naomi released Aliyah too quickly, and Aliyah felt as if her mother had pushed her aside after the few-second timeframe of the obligatory display had expired. Naomi’s eyes immediately went to Ibrahim, and something in the way she looked at him incited in Aliyah a panicked protectiveness. The feeling was so powerful that she had to actually keep herself from snatching her son out of his grandmother’s reach.
“Is this my grandbaby?” Naomi placed her hands on her hips, baring her teeth to Ibrahim in what apparently was intended as a disarming smile.
“Yes,” Aliyah said as she looked, smiling, at her son. Her tone was soft despite the growing protectiveness she felt in her mother’s presence. “His name is Ibrahim. It’s Arabic for Abraham.”
Naomi grunted, her thin fingers moving in dismissiveness as if swatting away a gnat. “I know that, baby.” The disarming smile returned to Naomi’s face as she kneeled in front of Ibrahim. “Your mother doesn’t know your grandma can read,” she said to Ibrahim. “I’ve seen all those beautiful pictures of you in my email.” She pinched Ibrahim’s cheek, causing him to draw back and stand at his mother’s side, finding Aliyah’s hand with his own. “It would’ve been nice if your mother took the time to come visit her mother,” she said, still smiling wide. “That’s what a good Christian daughter would do.”
Annoyance surged in Aliyah’s chest, and she struggled to maintain a respectful countenance. She gently pulled her son closer and leaned his head against her hip with the flat of her palm.
“But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Abraham? Have you ever read the Bible, dear? Or is your mother making you read that awful Koran?”
“Naomi, that’s enough.” Valerie was on her feet, clipping her sister’s shoulder and firmly guiding her toward the recliner. “Ally hasn’t even had a moment to sit down.”
Naomi whipped her head toward her sister, the sneer on her face unambiguous in the message she intended to send. But she stiffly and begrudgingly allowed Valerie to lead her back to her seat.
“This is my house,” Valerie said, her soft tone becoming firm and authoritative as she looked her sister in the eye, unblinking.
Naomi’s body met the leather chair in one sudden, angry bending at the knees. Though Aliyah felt anxious for what was about to unfold, she couldn’t contain the pride and gratefulness she felt at seeing Valerie shush Naomi, the older sister and the family’s heavy-handed matron who was known to keep everyone else in check.
“And you will not defame the name of Christ in this house,” Valerie said, hovering near where Naomi sat, her eyebrows rising as if daring Naomi to counter her. “If you want to make this about Christianity, then the least you can do is pretend to know the loving message that our Lord taught.”
The room grew silent. No one had expected this reaction from Valerie, and both Naomi’s and Benjamin’s expression testified to that.
This was a turning point for the two sisters, Aliyah knew it just as certainly as if they had spoken it aloud. She couldn’t help feeling a tinge of guilt for being at least partly responsible for this rift.
“I’m going outside to shoot around for a bit,” Larry announced, pushing himself to his feet and heading toward the kitchen without waiting for a reply. In all the commotion, Aliyah had forgotten he was there.
“You have a basketball court around here?” Joseph asked, his tone high-pitched in an effort to show genuine interest in another topic. But it seemed all wrong, the talk of sports amidst what was unfolding.
The sound of the backdoor shutting resonated in the room.
“Out back,” Jacob said, his calm tone as contrived as Joseph’s question. He pushed himself to a standing position then gestured to Joseph affably. “Come on, man. I’ll show you.”
“Joseph will be staying right where he is.”
Joseph was half standing himself when Naomi gave her ultimatum, her voice rising in its obdurate command. He slowly sat back down, undisguised disappointment on his face as he appeared to grumble something under his breath.
It was awkward and disturbing to see a grown man react to Naomi that way. Aliyah wondered what sort of power her mother had over Cassie’s husband to evoke that kind of deference from him.
“You’re the one who insisted on taking this trip,” Naomi said, “so you’re going to sit right through it.”
It was at that moment that Aliyah recalled the conversation in which Benjamin first told her about Cassie’s marriage. “She married a project manager from one of your parents’ youth organizations.” Naomi was Joseph’s boss—and his mother-in-law. Aliyah couldn’t imagine a more deadly combination, particularly when the woman was Naomi Thomas.
“The other children are in the den,” Benjamin said, his voice barely above a whisper as he appeared at Aliyah’s side and laid a hand on Ibrahim’s head. Aliyah nodded without looking at her uncle, and he guided her son out of the room. In her peripheral vision, she saw Benjamin motion to Jacob, who nodded in understanding then sat back down.
“I didn’t expect to—”
“Don’t tell me what you didn’t expect,” Naomi said, cutting Joseph off midsentence as she sat on the edge of the leather recliner as if preparing to get up any moment. “You wanted to learn more about this side of your family.” She grimaced as if something distasteful was in her mouth. “And here we are.” She gestured toward everyone in the room. “Now, learn.”
“Naomi…” Valerie’s voice was a mixture of a warning and a peace offering. “Why don’t we just enjoy ourselves and catch up with everyone? It’s not every day that we get to see each other.”
“Catch up?” Naomi hissed, her eyes narrowed into slits. “When I learned my baby left the church and joined the Moslems, that was all the catching up I needed to do.”
Because she didn’t know what else to do, Aliyah sidled to the couch and sat on the edge of a cushion, perched as far from Jacob as was possible. Her legs were turned away from him, the side of her thigh touching the base of the couch’s arm. Anxiety squeezing her chest painfully, Aliyah sat still, hoping that by remaining quiet and unmoving her mother would forget she was there.
***
“What was that all about, man?” Jacob was looking at Joseph when he asked the question, his forehead creased in genuine curiosity, annoyance etched in his voice.
Heavy-footed and fuming, Naomi had made her grand exit only minutes before, Valerie begrudgingly in tow, and the sound of the slamming front door still seemed to reverberate throughout the house.
Aliyah sat quiet, still perched on the edge of the couch, stiff as a statue, her gaze fixed distantly on something beyond her loosely folded hands on her lap. It was painful for Jacob to even look at her in that state. It took every bit of resolve to keep him from pulling his wife into an embrace, kissing her forehead and cheeks and telling her everything would be okay.
Joseph coughed laughter, an embarrassed grin creasing one side of his mouth. “I don’t know, man,” he said. “I wish I knew.”
“Valerie mentioned you called a few days ago, wanting to talk to me,” Benjamin said from where he stood in the middle of the living room, arms folded. He was looking at Joseph, an intense but kind expression on his face. “Did that have anything to do with what happened today?”
Joseph shook his head as a grim expression shadowed his face. “I guess so,” he said sarcastically, his tone conveying frustration. But it was clear that his annoyance was directed at his mother-in-law. “Cassie probably told her about it.”
“Joseph,” Benjamin said sternly, as if insisting that Joseph level with him, “what’s going on?”
There was thoughtful silence as Joseph seemed to come to terms with his need to be straightforward with Benjamin. “I’ve been reading about Islam,” he said finally, an edge of defensiveness in his tone. “And Cassie’s threatening to leave me if I convert.”
The room grew quiet.
“And I guess Dr. Thomas told her she’ll take care of it,” he added, referring to Naomi.
***
As they walked toward the tennis courts, Mashael was smiling so wide that it was contagious. “What?” Reem said, laughter in her voice, a question on her face as she narrowed her eyes through the slit of her veil and adjusted the strap of the tennis case on her shoulder.
Mashael lifted her left hand in front of her face then wiggled her fingers, the glint of a diamond blinking in the sunlight. Reem’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open behind the soft black fabric on her face.
“Let me see,” Reem demanded good-naturedly as she reached up and yanked Mashael’s hand toward her. Mashael giggled as Reem halted her steps to get a closer look. “MashaAllah,” Reem said, her voice barely above a whisper as she dropped Mashael’s hand and averted her gaze.
“So you’re officially engaged now, huh?” Reem said as she resumed walking toward the courts, her eyes straight ahead as Mashael fell in step next to her. Reem hoped she sounded excited for her younger sister, but it was hard to quell the jealousy that enflamed her heart right then. Why does Mashael get the happy ending? Reem thought pensively.
Yes, Reem was happy for her sister and had of course known this moment would come. She’d even had a hand in making it happen. But Reem couldn’t deny that it felt so unfair. What had Mashael done to deserve escaping the trial of sexual abuse at the hands of their own brother and thus avoiding subsequent emotional trauma? What had Reem done to deserve suffering it?
“Yes.” Mashael beamed in a full-teeth smile. “Isn’t it crazy?” she bubbled. “I didn’t expect him to buy me a ring until after the wedding.”
She doesn’t even cover properly, Reem thought bitterly. Why does she get Sheldon?
Reem stopped herself, reminded of what Dr. Goldstein had told her during the follow-up appointment. “You’re going to have to be patient with yourself. The price of self-honesty after trauma is persistent pain and frustration. Sometimes it’ll be directed at yourself, but sometimes it’ll be directed at others, often toward those you love. When you feel this happening, just stop and tell yourself to be patient with yourself. Lashing out at others usually means there’s a part of you crying out for healing. Find out what part that is, and tend to it. But take your time. The discovery won’t happen overnight.”
“When’s the wedding?” Reem heard herself say, pleasantly surprised to hear genuine excitement in her voice.
Mashael’s silence prompted Reem to repeat the question. “When’s the wedding, habeebti?” Reem teased, hoping her playful tone would let Mashael know that she only wished her the best.
Mashael’s face crumpled, and she looked as if she were about to cry. She turned her face away from Reem as they reached the only vacant court. She quietly walked over to the edge and stopped to unzip the soft case. As she withdrew her tennis racket, she kept her back to Reem.
Concerned, Reem quickened her pace until she stood next to her sister. She grabbed Mashael’s bare arm just below the fabric of the short-sleeved polo shirt. “What’s going on?” Reem said, her eyes narrowed and voice lowered so that no one could overhear. “Are you okay?”
Mashael clenched her jaw as she jerked her shoulder to release herself from Reem’s grip. “I’m not talking to you about the wedding,” Mashael said, cold defensiveness in her tone as she folded her arms, the tennis racket raised with the handle against her chest. “So don’t ask me about it again.” She was still avoiding Reem’s gaze.
Behind her veil, Reem’s face contorted. “What?”
Mashael met Reem’s gaze, unblinking in defiance. “I said don’t ask me about the wedding again,” she said, making no effort to lower her voice. “I’m not going to talk about it with you. Ever.”
Reem pulled her head back in shock and offense. “What is your problem?” she hissed, indignant. “How do expect anyone to support your decision, or even come to the wedding, if you act like this?”
Mashael grunted and rolled her eyes, a knowing smile on her face as she shook her head. “See? This is why I don’t want to talk to you about the wedding. Everything is always about you, and how you can make someone’s life miserable if they do something you don’t like.”
“You’re the one flaunting your engagement ring. How am I wrong to ask about it? You’re practically throwing your wedding in my face.”
Mashael’s eyes widened, a look of amused disbelief on her face. “Seriously? You’re even going to turn my happiness into a slight against you? Yaa salaam! You are so self-centered.”
“Then why did you show it to me if you didn’t want me to talk about it?” Reem shot back.
“Because it’s on my finger,” Mashael said. “And the least I can do is tell you what it means, even if it’s already obvious. But that doesn’t mean I want to do wedding plans together.”
“I never asked to be a part of your wedding!” Reem said, her tone laced in offense. “I don’t even know if we’ll come.”
Mashael glared at Reem, hurt in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she slowly turned around and started putting her racket back in its case. She yanked the zipper closed in angry jerks of her hand.
“SubhaanAllah,” Reem said in disappointment and rebuke as she followed her sister across the court. “So you’re canceling tennis now? That’s so immature.”
“Really?” Mashael spun around to face Reem, causing Reem to nearly run into her. “Is it any more immature than ending your friendship with Aliyah? Or canceling Qur’an with her and everyone else just because they don’t worship you properly?”
Mashael grimaced. “Wallah, sometimes I’m ashamed that you’re my sister,” she said. “It’s not enough that you walk around looking like an extremist. You have to act like one too. And you have the nerve to say it’s all for Islam. It’s all for you, Reem, and only you.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You dress like that and call yourself a Qur’an teacher just so you can feel better than everyone else. Because you know if you took off your hijab and stopped teaching Qur’an, you’ll have nothing left you can say about yourself. Then it’ll be obvious to everyone that so-called ignorant Muslims like me, Sheldon, and Aliyah are way better people than you.”
***
As soon as Mashael saw Aliyah enter the apartment corridor, head down and feet nearly dragging while flanked by three energetic children, she knew it had been a bad idea to come. She had knocked on Aliyah’s door a half hour ago, and when no one answered, she’d texted Aliyah to say she was at her apartment, hoping to drop by and chat.
I’m on my way home now, Aliyah had texted in response, if you want to wait.
A tired smile crept on Aliyah’s face when her gaze met Mashael’s. Mashael smiled apologetically in return and warded off the tinge of guilt she felt at the realization that Aliyah was being cordial for her sake.
“As-salaamu’alaikum,” Aliyah said, raising a hand in greeting. Her smile spread as she gestured to the boys. “Ibrahim wanted his brothers to come over.”
“It’s okay,” Mashael said quickly, feeling bad for the apology she heard in Aliyah’s tone. “I don’t want to interrupt anything.”
Aliyah forced laughter as if enjoying a private joke. “Don’t worry about that,” she said, waving her hand as she held her keys. “I welcome the interruption.”
Mashael waited as Aliyah unlocked the door then pushed it open.
“Did you pray Dhuhr?” Aliyah asked, glancing over her shoulder as the boys zipped past them and pulled off their shoes.
“I can’t pray,” Mashael said, indirectly referring to her monthly cycle. Aliyah held the door as Mashael stepped past her and took off her shoes.
“Younus,” Aliyah called out before the boys could disappear into Ibrahim’s room. He turned and met her gaze, a question and slight irritation on his face. “Can you call the adhaan for us?” she said casually as she closed the door and bolted it.
Younus smirked in male pride and walked into the living room. Mashael smiled to herself as she watched Younus make the formal call to prayer. The sight made her eager to get married and have children of her own.
“Sorry to stop by unannounced like this,” Mashael said after Aliyah and the boys finished praying and the boys had retreated to Ibrahim’s room. Aliyah set a tray of snacks and drinks on the floor table before settling on the couch next to Mashael. Aliyah still had that look of exhaustion in her eyes, but her overall aura seemed more relaxed after praying. “But I didn’t know who else to talk to.”
A shadow of concern passed over Aliyah’s face. “Is everything okay?”
“Sheldon and I are going to get married,” Mashael blurted, “and I don’t want my family there.”
Aliyah’s eyebrows rose, and her gaze became distant for some time. “Not even Reem?” she asked, still looking at nothing in particular. Mashael could hear the disappointment and concern in Aliyah’s voice.
“Especially not Reem,” Mashael said bitterly.
Aliyah shook her head in confusion as she met Mashael’s gaze with her eyebrows drawn together. “Why not? I thought she was the only one who supported you and Sheldon.”
Mashael felt a surge of irritation at the thought of Reem’s hypocrisy. “She supported Sheldon becoming Muslim because she had to, but she doesn’t support the marriage.”
Aliyah look confused and disturbed. “Are you sure? Did she say that to you?”
“Yes,” Mashael said irritably, recalling the numerous arguments they’d had before Sheldon became Muslim. “She wouldn’t shut up about it.” Mashael sighed and leaned back on the couch. “But she did say she’ll be there for me, no matter what.”
Aliyah’s face brightened somewhat. “MashaAllah, that’s really good.”
“I guess so,” Mashael muttered, unconvinced.
“Reem was probably just trying to be completely honest with you about how she feels,” Aliyah offered. “It’s normal to worry about someone you love. Remember, they don’t know Sheldon like you do.”
“And whose fault is that?” Mashael grumbled, folding her arms.
“Nobody’s.” Something in the soft way Aliyah spoke prompted Mashael to look at her. “Sometimes things just happen,” Aliyah said with an almost imperceptible shrug, “and nobody wanted it to turn out like this.”
“I just don’t want the happiest day of my life ruined with their negativity and judgmental attitudes.”
“I doubt Reem will be negative on your wedding day. She’ll be happy for you insha’Allah.”
Mashael wasn’t so sure, but she kept her thoughts to herself. “We had an argument today,” she said in a low voice, eyes averted. “And I told her never to ask me about the wedding again.”
An extended silence followed, and Mashael sensed that the news made Aliyah sad.
“It’s a blessing to have a family,” Aliyah said, but she seemed to be talking more to herself than to Mashael. “Especially a Muslim family.”
“I know,” Mashael said with a sigh. “And I’m grateful for them. It’s just…” Mashael tried to find the words for what she was feeling right then. “…I don’t think of my family as real Muslims, you know?”
Aliyah drew her head back in surprise. “What do you mean?”
Mashael shrugged, unsure how to put her thoughts into words. “Islam is just something they use to guilt you into doing what they want. Especially my parents. They’re always talking about the rights of the mother and father in Islam because they want to control everything I do, even my thoughts and feelings. But they don’t really care about my soul.” She grunted. “I doubt they even care about their own.”
“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Aliyah interjected. “Don’t they believe in Allah and pray?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then they care about their souls.”
“But they don’t even do everything they’re supposed to. They’re alw—”
“Do you do everything you’re supposed to?” There was lighthearted amusement in Aliyah’s tone as she regarded Mashael, a confused smile on her face.
The boldness of Aliyah’s question stopped Mashael midsentence, and for a fleeting moment, Mashael was offended. But in that moment she became self-conscious of her uncovered hair and exposed arms and legs. Her very presence was an obvious answer to Aliyah’s question, and she felt a flicker of shame for her appearance.
Mashael had always defended not wearing hijab by saying she was in America, not in Saudi Arabia. But right then she saw the hypocrisy in her own mindset and behavior. Why did she feel comfortable disregarding Allah’s instructions about hijab but grew angry with her family for disregarding Allah’s instructions about whom she could marry? No, the two crimes were not of equal magnitude, in Mashael’s view, but they were crimes nonetheless. Look not at the size of your sin, a popular saying advised, but at the magnitude of the One you’re disobeying.
“Nobody’s perfect, Mashael,” Aliyah said. “I’m not saying your family is right, or even that you have to invite them to your wedding. But if you don’t want them there, make sure it’s because you believe that’s what is wisest given the circumstance, not because they’re humans with faults just like you.”
Mashael felt ashamed of herself all of a sudden, and guilt sat heavy in the pit of her stomach as she thought of how she’d spoken to Reem.
“But I don’t want them there,” Mashael said quietly, overcome with emotion at the honesty of her words. “I want it to be just me and Sheldon.”
A thoughtful silence followed.
“What about your wali and witnesses?” Aliyah asked tentatively. Mashael sensed that Aliyah was trying to sound helpful instead of judgmental.
Mashael contorted her face. “So I really have to have my father and other people there?”
“You’ll need someone qualified to represent you,” Aliyah offered, “and at least two adult Muslim witnesses, from what I understand.”
Mashael heaved a sigh of frustration as she folded her arms across her chest and collapsed against the couch, laying her head back, staring at the ceiling. “Then I’ll probably never get married.”
Sounds of stomping and playful shouting came from Ibrahim’s room.
“You guys are so lucky, mashaAllah,” Mashael said broodingly, still looking at the ceiling.
“Who?”
“Americans,” Mashael said. “As soon as you turn eighteen, your families let you do whatever you want.”
“That’s not necessarily true.” Aliyah’s tone sounded sad and reflective.
“But it’s the law,” Mashael said, venting. “Arabs would never allow something like that.”
“But don’t you have American nationality?”
Mashael grunted. “Technically, yes.”
“Then it’s the law for you too,” Aliyah said. “But that doesn’t mean your family will let you do whatever you want.”
Mashael turned her head to Aliyah from where it still lay on the back of the couch. “Would your parents stop you from marrying who you want?”
Aliyah’s expression was difficult for Mashael to read. “No…” she said, almost cautiously. “But—”
“But what?” Mashael said, laughter in her voice. “What could be better than that? Wallah, I wish I could have your parents, at least until after the wedding.”
Aliyah’s expression became so disturbed that Mashael feared that she had angered Aliyah somehow. “Don’t say that,” Aliyah said finally, looking away. “Don’t ever say that again.” Her voice rose in firmness. “That is not something you want.”
At that moment Mashael recalled Aliyah’s tired expression when she’d seen her in the hall earlier. She wondered if Aliyah’s stress was connected to her parents. “I only meant—”
“I know what you meant,” Aliyah said, her voice still firm. “But still, don’t ever say it again, especially if you’re swearing by Allah. That’s not a small thing, Mashael.”
“Swearing by Allah?” Mashael asked, sitting up and staring at Aliyah in genuine confusion. “I didn’t swear by Allah, I—”
“You said ‘wallah.’ That’s swearing by Allah.”
Mashael started to respond then realized that Aliyah was right. She had used the term for swearing by Allah. “But that’s just a way of emphasizing a point,” Mashael explained. “It’s not meant to be taken that seriously.”
Aliyah stared at Mashael with what appeared to be genuine fear in her eyes. “A’oodhu-billaah,” Aliyah exclaimed, seeking refuge in Allah. “How can taking an oath in Allah’s name ever be a joke?”
“I didn’t mean it’s a joke,” Mashael said, flustered. She didn’t understand why Aliyah was making such a big deal out of a simple phrase. “I mean, it’s just something Arabs say. It doesn’t mean anything like you’re thinking.”
“To Allah or to you?”
Mashael’s lips were already parted in preparation to respond, but Aliyah’s question silenced her. She had no idea what to say to that. For a moment, trepidation gripped her as she wondered if her casual use of Allah’s name was sinful.
“Anyway,” Aliyah said with a sigh, apparently in an effort to lighten the mood, “my point is, be careful what you wish for. My parents are disbelievers, Mashael. There’s nothing admirable in that.”
Mashael was quiet. She hadn’t thought about it from that perspective. She’d only meant that she wanted parents who wouldn’t make getting married so difficult.
“I thought they were Christian,” Mashael said more for conversation’s sake than genuine interest.
“They are in name,” Aliyah said sadly. “But they hate Islam so much that it doesn’t even make sense.”
Mashael wrinkled her nose. “Really? Why?”
Aliyah shrugged. “Who knows? Sometimes I feel they’re more upset that I chose something without their permission or approval than that I chose to become Muslim. To them, children are property whose sole purpose in life is to do their bidding.”
“Wallah?” Mashael said, eyes wide. “Sorry,” she said, quickly shaking her head to correct herself. “Really?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“SubhaanAllah,” Mashael said. “I thought the Amish were the only Americans who were like that with their children.”
Aliyah coughed laughter. “The Amish?” she said. “I heard they were really kind and family oriented.”
“Maybe some of them are,” Mashael said. “But they excommunicated Sheldon after his rumspringa, and they won’t even speak to him or see him anymore.”
The confused expression on Aliyah’s face told Mashael that she should explain. “Rumspringa is a time when Amish teenagers can act like regular Americans, but they have to fully recommit to the Amish lifestyle after that. But Sheldon didn’t really want to. He wanted to go to college instead of working on the farm.”
Aliyah creased her forehead. “Do they know he’s Muslim now?”
Mashael shook her head. “He lives with some distant family now, but he hasn’t told them yet. It’s almost unheard of for an Amish to convert to Islam, so I don’t know how they’ll take it.”
“I thought he was excommunicated from his family.”
“From his Amish family,” Mashael clarified. “But the relatives he lives with are Mennonites, so they’re fine with him going to school and doing what he wants.”
“Except converting to Islam?” Aliyah said rhetorically, light humor in her tone.
Mashael coughed laughter. “We’re crossing our fingers on that one.”
“You mean you’re making du’aa?” Aliyah said playfully.
Mashael laughed self-consciously and nodded. “We hope to get our own place soon though,” she said. “So hopefully, it won’t matter.”
“Soon?” Aliyah said, creasing her forehead in confusion. “You already have a wedding date set?”
Mashael grew quiet. She hadn’t intended to reveal her plans to Aliyah. She knew Aliyah would never approve. “What’s the point in waiting?” Mashael said defensively.
Aliyah shook her head, a confused expression still on her face. “I’m not saying you should wait,” she said. “I was just asking because I thought your parents didn’t give their approval yet.”
“I’m not waiting for it,” Mashael said, defiance in her tone. “I heard that if my father doesn’t have an Islamic reason to stop me from getting married, he can’t.”
“That’s true…” Aliyah said tentatively. “But you don’t think it’s too soon to go that route? Sheldon wasn’t Muslim when they first met him. So they couldn’t approve of him marrying you.” She frowned, empathy in her eyes. “Why not give your father a chance to say yes now that Sheldon’s Muslim?”
Mashael was overwhelmed with exhaustion at the question. She had no idea how to explain to Aliyah that it didn’t matter how much or little time had passed, or whether or not Sheldon was Muslim now, her parents would never agree to the marriage. In her family, being American was synonymous with being a disbeliever, even if a person took his shahaadah and officially accepted Islam.
One of the few exceptions to this general rule was when the family could earn bragging rights for guiding the person to Islam. But even then, it was a trophy-like pride, not one that respected the new Muslim as fully human with rights equal to their Arab brothers and sisters. When it came to marriage, non-Arabs’ Islamic rights almost disappeared. Sometimes this cultural rule was bent for American females marrying Arab men, but it was almost never bent for American men marrying Arab females. It was a huge dishonor to have non-Arab lineage in the family of a respectable Saudi family, and in families like Mashael’s, family honor took precedence over religion.
“Sheldon’s parents are similar to mine,” Mashael said finally, though she imagined that Aliyah probably wouldn’t understand entirely where she was coming from. “So he understands why there’s no point trying to convince my parents. We’re just going to do a private ceremony then tell them later,” she said. “If ever.”
Aliyah nodded, and Mashael was surprised to see genuine empathy on Aliyah’s face. “Sort of like what Jacob and I did?”
Mashael raised her eyebrows as she recalled the sudden nikaah at Jacob’s house the day Sheldon accepted Islam. Reem had told her not to talk to anyone about it. “Yes, I guess so…” she said, smiling.
Mashael looked at Aliyah, a curious expression on her face. “You didn’t tell your parents or family about Jacob?”
Aliyah shook her head, a close-lipped smile teasing her lips. “No, not yet.”
“Is it because of all those rumors about you and Deanna?”
She paused before moving her head in the beginning of a nod. “Partly, yes. But like you mentioned about Sheldon’s family, my parents pretty much excommunicated me after I became Muslim. So I’m not sure I want them involved in any part of my personal life.”
Mashael grew quiet, immediately ashamed of her comment about wishing she had Aliyah’s parents.
“I saw my mother today for the first time in more than ten years,” Aliyah said in a low voice, her gaze looking at something beyond the floor table. She coughed laughter. “And it was the first time I was grateful to Allah that my family had cut me off and wanted nothing to do with me.” A lopsided smile formed on her lips as she looked at Mashael. “And now I think I don’t want anything to do with them either.”
***
“You think I’m wrong for feeling this way?” Aliyah asked Jacob later that evening when he’d come to her apartment in preparation to take Younus and Thawab home. They were sitting at the kitchen table after having eaten, Jacob at the head and Aliyah at an angle to him.
“No,” Jacob said honestly. “I think it’s only natural after everything that’s happened. I’d be more worried if you never felt angry with them. A person can only take so much. We’re all human, in the end.”
“But what about all the rights they have over me?” Aliyah said, a hesitant smile on her face. She was feeling guilty for what she’d said to Mashael earlier.
“You don’t have to want to be around your family, Aliyah. You just have to keep ties with them.”
Aliyah used her fork to toy with the cold food leftover on her plate. “But it feels wrong. I never felt like this before.”
“After all you’ve gone through,” Jacob said in lighthearted humor, “I imagine you’re going to feel a lot of things you’ve never felt before.”
Aliyah was quiet as she played with her fork. There was so much she wanted to say, but she didn’t want Jacob to judge her harshly for it.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about Deanna these last couple of days,” she said finally, deciding it was best not to keep her feelings bottled up any longer. She wanted to be able to relax and be herself around Jacob, and the only way to do that was by being fully honest with him.
“Really?” he said. Aliyah could feel him looking at her, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. “In what way?”
She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s sort of how I feel about my family now,” she said. “Except with my family, I feel guilty for not wanting to see them again. But with Deanna, I feel guilty for not really caring what she thinks anymore.” Aliyah drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, her heart beat quickening at the realization that she was actually speaking her thoughts aloud. “In a way, I almost want her to know about us. The more I think about everything she’s done, the more I think she deserves this as payback.”
There was an extended silence.
Nervous that she had disappointed Jacob with this confession, she hesitantly glanced at him. To her surprise, she found him grinning at her.
“What?” she said, laughter in her voice.
“I’m just happy to see you finally sticking up for yourself.”
She chuckled and averted her gaze. “I don’t know if I’d call it that…”
“I would,” he said. “It’s unhealthy to be as passive and forgiving as you’ve been all this time. Forgiving and overlooking is good, but only if you’re being honest with yourself about how the betrayal makes you feel. But for you, it seems like you force yourself to deny that the betrayal ever happened at all.”
As Jacob’s words took meaning, Aliyah realized that he was right. She wasn’t so much forgiving as she was willfully blind, and there was nothing praiseworthy in that. Only with sight could you be forgiving because only then would you see the harm and feel the pain of what you’re forgiving.
“Astaghfirullah,” Aliyah uttered, seeking God’s forgiveness. “I never thought about it like that before. It makes me feel like a bad person now that I feel more upset than inclined to forgive.”
“You’re not a bad person for being upset because someone wronged you,” Jacob said. “Forgiving them is an option, not an obligation.”
“But isn’t forgiveness best?”
“Yes,” Jacob said matter-of-factly. “But only if it’s really forgiveness. And forgiveness isn’t of the tongue. It’s of the heart. So before you can forgive, you need to consult your heart to see if it’s ready.”
Aliyah nodded thoughtfully.
A question came to her, but she was unsure if she had the right to ask it. “Do you forgive Deanna?” she said after a moment’s hesitation.
Jacob seemed to be contemplating the question. “Yes…” he said tentatively. “As long as I don’t have to be her husband,” he said. “And as long as she doesn’t harm my sons or my wife.”
Hearing herself referred to as “my wife” in the same context as Deanna made Aliyah feel awkward—and proud.
“I guess I just feel like I don’t know who I am anymore,” Aliyah said. “My emotions are all over the place.” She shook her head. “Even today, as I watched my mother try so hard to keep Cassie’s husband from becoming Muslim, I felt like I hated her, astaghfirullah.”
Jacob lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Was there anything to love in what she did?”
“But I don’t mean just her behavior,” Aliyah said. “I felt like I hated her.” Her expression conveyed distaste. “But what kind of person feels like that about her own mother?”
“A person who’s suffered abuse one time too many times and can do nothing about it except lash out in her heart.”
“But isn’t that sinful?” Aliyah said, feeling choked up all of a sudden. “Doesn’t Allah punish people who disrespect their parents?”
“You didn’t disrespect her,” Jacob said. “You felt dislike for her. There’s a difference.”
“But how do you honor and respect someone you dislike?”
“The same way you honor and respect all those teachers and bosses and supervisors who turn your stomach at the very sight of them,” he said simply. “The same way we honor and respect court judges by referring to them as ‘Your Honor,’ regardless of how we feel inside.” He shrugged. “What goes on in your heart is between you and Allah.”
“But that’s what I’m afraid of,” Aliyah said. “What if Allah is displeased with me? Doesn’t this make me a hypocrite?”
Jacob nodded, understanding. “I think I know how you feel,” he said. “I went through something similar with my mother, and of course Deanna year after year.”
“How did you come to terms with it?” Aliyah asked, looking intently at Jacob.
“I made du’aa,” he said. “And I asked Allah to purify my heart.”
Aliyah pursed her lips, her eyes growing thoughtful. “I need to do that…”
“We all do,” Jacob said, “no matter what we think is going on in our hearts.”
Aliyah grunted. “I just hate feeling like this. I’m not used to it. I’ve always been really positive and loving and optimistic with my family and friends.”
“But have they been positive, loving, and optimistic with you?”
Aliyah frowned thoughtfully. “No, but…”
“Then you can understand why you’re feeling different now. You’ve probably never experienced what it feels like to have a real friend,” he said. “Or a real family even.”
A feeling of sadness overcame Aliyah as the truth of his words settled upon her. He was right. She had no real friends or family.
Aliyah was fighting the urge to cry when she felt Jacob take her hands in his. She hesitantly met his gaze with a sad smile. He lifted her hands and kissed the top of both, one after the other.
“But I pray that Allah will give you both in me,” he said.