A Beautiful Name
“That’s a huge blessing, you know,” Larry said, “growing up Muslim.”
“Yes, alhamdulillah, it is,” Salima said noncommittally. “But I think anyone’s path to Islam is a huge blessing, mashaAllah.”
“Isn’t there a hadith about the person who grows up Muslim being under Allah’s Shade on the Day of Judgment?”
Salima smiled into the cordless phone from where she sat curled up on the couch of her living room early Saturday morning in mid-November. Jamil and Haroon were still sleeping after having gone back to bed after Fajr, but Salima had stayed awake after prayer, anticipating Larry’s call. The after-Fajr early morning phone call had become their weekend routine after Larry had texted Salima one Sunday morning after he’d prayed Fajr in the masjid, asking if she was awake. And she had been, though she had awakened only to make sure that Jamil and Haroon were up for prayer since she hadn’t been able to pray that week. She hadn’t even realized she’d left her phone on the night before until she heard the chiming alert indicating an incoming text message after returning to her room.
“Yes, there is actually,” Salima said. “But the hadith isn’t only about a person who grows up worshipping Allah. It’s about seven categories of people who’ll be under Allah’s Shade.” She grinned. “And one of them is a man whose heart is attached to the masjid.”
Salima could almost see the smile of recognition on Larry’s face. “Oh yeah,” he said, “I remember that now.”
“And who knows?” she said. “That could be you.”
Larry chuckled self-consciously. “I don’t know about that…”
“And there’s another hadith,” Salima said, “about the double reward of the Christian who believed in Jesus, peace be upon, then accepts Islam.”
“Really?” Larry sounded genuinely surprised.
“Oh, you’d be surprised the endless rewards that exist for believers from every background,” Salima said teasingly. “There are even rewards for simply moving your tongue.”
“Moving your tongue?” There was laughter in Larry’s voice.
“In dhikr,” she said. “Like saying subhaanAllaahi wa bihamdi wa subhaanAllaahil-‘atheem. The Prophet, sallallaahu’alayhi wa sallam, said these words are light on the tongue but heavy on the Scale.”
“What does it mean?”
“A loose translation is, ‘Highly glorified is Allah and praise to Him, and Highly glorified is Allah, the All-Mighty.’”
“And reciting Qur’an too, right?”
“Absolutely,” Salima said, laughter in her voice. “That’s at the top of the list. Every letter that you recite earns you ten blessings each.”
“MashaAllah,” Larry said, admiration in his voice. “Then you must get millions of blessings, knowing the whole Qur’an and teaching it.”
A reflective smile lingered on Salima’s face, but she felt sad all of a sudden. She was thinking about Mikaeel and their two children, and how shocked and terrified she felt the moment she found out about the accident. She thought about Kalimah and what she must be going through. She thought about her sins of the tongue and the limbs, in being a believer who had been so full of Allah’s blessings that she thought she had the right to dictate how they were manifested in other people’s lives.
“I hope so,” Salima said quietly, her breath catching as tears filled her eyes.
There was an extended pause, and Salima sensed Larry’s concern through the phone. “Are you okay?” he said.
Salima forced laughter. “I’m fine,” she said, taking a ragged breath. “It’s just—” She quickly wiped her eyes then took a moment to steady her breathing. “It’s just I get a bit emotional sometimes,” she said, finding her voice. “Sometimes everything just hits me all at once, you know?” She coughed laughter as fresh tears sprung to her eyes and she wiped them away. “We’re so ungrateful, astaghfirullah.”
“Astaghfirullah,” Larry muttered.
“You know how they say, ‘The more you have, the more you think you deserve; and the less you have, the less it takes to make you thankful’?”
“Yes.”
“Well…” Salima huffed, humor in that sound. “It’s true.”
“That’s a hard trap to not fall into,” Larry said reflectively.
“But why?” Salima said, narrowing her eyes as if confounded. “I mean, you’d think…” She sighed and shook her head, letting her thoughts go unfinished.
“I know,” Larry agreed. “That’s one thing Aliyah taught me.”
At the mention of her friend, Salima stiffened in annoyance. Larry had never given Salima a completely forthcoming explanation as to what had happened between him and Aliyah. More than anything, he’d been consistently dismissive of the topic, and that nagged Salima to no end. She hated that it bothered her so much, but she really wanted to know if his heart was attached to someone else, even if only marginally. “Aliyah?” she repeated, hoping she sounded as lighthearted as she intended.
She heard Larry laugh self-consciously. “I don’t mean Aliyah the person,” he said. “I mean Aliyah the experience.”
“There’s a difference?” Salima said in lighthearted sarcasm.
“For me there is,” Larry said.
Salima drew her eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”
“I never got to know Aliyah the person,” Larry said. “And frankly, I’m glad I didn’t.”
Salima winced at the harshness of his words. She wasn’t so sure it was right to hear what he had to say about her friend, but she felt relief nonetheless. At least the question of Aliyah was a little less mysterious. “Ouch,” she said, laughter in her voice, hoping Larry took the subtle hint to take it easy on Aliyah.
“I don’t mean any disrespect to her,” he said, as if realizing just then how his statement must have sounded. “I meant that I’m glad I didn’t get to know her as a person because I don’t think it would’ve been good for either of us.”
“Why not?” Salima asked, genuinely curious.
“Because I realize now that the whole thing was just this huge, exciting challenge to me, and most of it had more to do with Jacob than me.”
Salima drew her head back in surprise and glanced sideways at the phone. “Jacob?”
“I know it sounds stupid,” Larry said, laughter in his voice. “But when I first met Aliyah at the restaurant, I was just flirting, you know, being a man. You see a good-looking woman and you just want to find out a bit more about her.”
A tinge of jealousy pinched Salima. “MashaAllah,” she said, more for herself than for any connection to his story.
“But it wasn’t really that deep to me.” He spoke as if he was lost in thought. “I mean, sure, I would’ve married her if it came to that. But not because I really wanted to,” he said. “It would’ve been because it was the natural next step. It was more scientific than emotional. I’d read all these stories about the prophets and righteous people of the past, and I was on a spiritual high. I’d just broken up with Jazzy, and I was ready to experience what being with a real woman was like.”
“A real woman?” Salima said, humor in her tone.
He coughed laughter. “You know…”
“No, I don’t,” she said in lighthearted firmness.
“A righteous woman,” he said, “someone who submits to God and her husband.”
“Can’t forget the husband part,” Salima joked.
“Of course not,” Larry replied, mirroring her joking tone.
“So what does any of this have to do with Jacob?”
“Because he wanted to marry her too.” Larry spoke as if that were the most logical explanation in the world.
“And…”
“And that made her more of a challenge,” Larry said simply.
“I hope you’re joking,” Salima said, half-humored, half serious.
“Sadly, I’m not,” Larry said, embarrassed humor in his voice.
“So that whole thing was just some stupid sibling rivalry, male ego trip?”
“I wouldn’t put it like that…”
“Is there another way to put it?”
“It’s like you said,” he explained. “The more you have, the more you think you deserve.”
“And exactly what did you have at that time,” Salima said, “except a lot of nerve?”
She heard Larry laugh through the receiver. “My own money,” he said, “good looks, a solid track record.”
“A solid track record?” Salima said, chuckling. “You hadn’t even been Muslim that long.”
“I mean with women.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay,” she said, “you were really full of yourself.”
“I know,” Larry said in agreement. “That’s the whole point of me mentioning the Aliyah situation. It humbled me. She wasn’t impressed by any of it.”
Salima laughed out loud. “I can’t say I blame her.”
“Cut a brother some slack,” Larry said, laughter in his voice. “I thought I was doing something good.”
“By trying to marry the woman your brother wanted to marry?”
“It didn’t start off like that.”
“But it didn’t deter you.”
“Of course not. You have to understand,” he said, reflective humor in his tone. “I grew up looking up to my brother. He always had things I could never have. So learning that he wanted to marry Aliyah made her more valuable to me.”
Salima rolled her eyes and shook her head, a grin on her face. “I’m not sure I’m up for hearing all of this,” she said jokingly.
“You’re the one obsessed with knowing every detail of every thought I’ve ever had about any woman,” he teased good-naturedly.
“Well, I’m officially healed from that obsession.”
Larry laughed then said in a more serious tone, “But we weren’t compatible anyway.”
Salima sighed reflectively. “Allahu’alam.”
“Allah knows best,” he agreed. “But I think He made His signs clear on this one.”
“In what way?”
There was a thoughtful pause. “You know that Mark Twain quote?” he said. “Never argue with a stupid person?”
“Because they’ll just drag you down then beat you with experience?” she finished.
“Yes, that one,” he said.
“That’s one of my favorite quotes,” Salima said. “I wish I could find a bumper sticker of it. Then maybe I can stick it to my forehead or something.”
“Your forehead?” Larry said, chuckling, momentarily distracted from his point.
“Yes, why not?” Salima joked. “That way, I’ll never forget it,” she said. “Or I can stick it to my office wall. Because that’s where most of the stupid people are in my life.”
“Well…” Larry said, returning to his point. “Aliyah thought quotes like that put pride in your heart,” he said, coughing laughter. “So she didn’t like it.”
Salima contorted her face. “Put pride in your heart?”
“Yeah…” He laughed again. “Like it made you think you’re better than other people.”
Salima wrinkled her nose. “O-kay,” she said, as if she had no idea what Larry was talking about.
“Exactly.” He huffed. “I swear, that girl was so uptight, it was suffocating.”
Salima grew quiet, uncomfortable with the seamless shift from reflecting on their blessings to speaking badly about their Muslim sister. “Let’s not backbite her though.”
“Backbite her?” Larry said in humored disbelief. “I’m just telling you what happened,” he said defensively.
“I know, but…” Salima didn’t know how to explain the reason for her sudden discomfort with the conversation.
“Sorry,” Larry said sincerely, his voice subdued. “I shouldn’t have called her uptight.”
Salima was quiet as a thought came to her. “You know, Aliyah wasn’t completely wrong about that,” she said finally.
“About what?” Larry said.
“The quote. It can put pride in your heart if you’re not careful.”
“Oh no,” Larry said humorously, in mock dread. “Not you too.”
“Seriously though,” Salima said good-naturedly. “She has a point.”
“You’re joking, I hope.”
“I’m not saying I see it the way she does,” Salima clarified. “But like the Prophet, sallallaahu’alayhi wa sallam, said, ‘Actions are by intention.’” She shrugged. “Used in the wrong situation, quotes like that can make you look down on people and reject the truth, which is essentially the definition of kibr.”
“Kibr?”
“Blameful pride.”
Larry was silent for some time. “I guess I can see where you’re coming from,” he said honestly. “But if you think like that, then you’ll stress over everything.”
“Well, like I said,” Salima replied, “I don’t see the quote negatively. But to each his own, you know? Everybody has to do what works for them.”
“Live and let live, huh?” Larry said, humor in his tone.
“Exactly,” Salima said with a shrug. “Unless they’re doing something Allah doesn’t like.”
***
Is the “hot Muslim mistress” now the secret wife? Some people really know how to halalify on the down-low! #MuslimScandal #halalHomeWreckers
JazzyQ and 48 others like this. 13 comments.
Nicole Nikki Willis: Are ya’ll seriously starting this sh*t again? (3 likes)
JazzyQ: Guilty conscience, Nicole Nikki Willis? (24 likes)
Nicole Nikki Willis: This is straight-up backbiting! ‘A’oodhubillaah! (2 likes)
Juwayriah bint Abdullah: Did I mention any names in my status? I just asked a question. #iftheshoefits (17 likes)
Nicole Nikki Willis: You didn’t have to say a name. It’s obvious who you’re talking about! (3 likes)
JazzyQ: Who would that be Nicole Nikki Willis? You? (18 likes)
Juwayriah bint Abdullah: Nicole Nikki Willis why do you care so much? Are you bi or something? (12 likes)
JazzyQ: ^^^ LMAO (9 likes)
Nicole Nikki Willis: She’s your Muslim sister. Fear Allah. (2 likes)
Juwayriah bint Abdullah: Nicole Nikki Willis in Islam marriage is public. So we have a right to inquire about who’s married to whom. And if a marriage is done on the DL, then we have a right to ask questions! Why all the secrecy? Makes me wonder if all those HMM rumors were true! (19 likes)
Muslimah Amreekiyah: How you get him is how you lose him! I have no sympathy for secret wives AKA halal home wreckers! So tired of the polygyny is halal argument!! (22 likes)
Imrah Wahidah: Muslimah Amreekiyah does that apply to first wives too? They got him thru halal marriage, so they lose him thru halal marriage (when he marries someone else)? (7 likes)
Reem Muhammad: Bismillah. fyi Jacob is divorced from Deanna. Juwayriah bint Abdullah if the wedding you’re talking about took place (and only Allah knows), just keep in mind, you not being invited to a wedding doesn’t make it secret. All Islamic marriages have witnesses. So there’s no such thing as a “secret marriage.” There are marriages you know about and those you don’t. Learn the difference. Neither case implies adultery beforehand. Be careful what you “wonder” about in public. It’ll be on your record on the Day of Judgment. No one is obligated to call every child of Adam after they get married. So if YOU want to know who’s married to whom, pick up the phone and ask them. All this passive aggressive BS on FB is really childish. You’re backbiting and you know it. You can lie to the people, but not to Allah. Muslimah Amreekiyah “polygyny is halal” isn’t an argument. It’s an Islamic fact. If you’re tired of your religion, that’s called spiritual crisis. Get help if you need it. And fyi: There’s no such thing as “halal home wreckers” in Islam. Anything that’s halal brings good. But hating what Allah loves can wreck your home and everything else in your life. And it seems like this whole discussion was started to wreck someone’s home. Is that halal?
Reem’s hands were trembling in anger as she typed the last words then grunted as she pressed enter. She snapped her laptop shut and left it balanced on the comforter covering her legs as she folded her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowed in aggravation. She huffed and shook her head in disbelief at the cruelty of these women.
What’s their problem? she wondered, fuming. Why were they so fixated on other people’s lives?
“You still up?” Sayed’s voice was groggy and muffled against the pillow where he lay facing Reem, the comforter pulled over his shoulders.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Reem said softly, her calm voice concealing her annoyance with the Facebook discussion.
“What happened?” Sayed said knowingly, a lazy smile forming on his lips as he squinted his eyes at Reem, his head still against the pillow.
“Nothing,” Reem muttered, shaking her head, arms still folded in agitation.
Sayed slowly sat up next to her then put an arm around her shoulder. “What happened?” he said again, this time more sincerely.
“It’s this stupid—” Reem gestured a hand toward her laptop then huffed before folding her arms again, too upset to explain further.
“Some social media madness again?”
“Pretty much.”
“Anything you want my perspective on?”
She lifted the laptop and handed it to him then resumed her pout, shaking her head in disbelief. When he opened the laptop and silently read the contents on the screen, she grew self-conscious, wondering if she’d handled the situation correctly. Perhaps she had been too impulsive in her response, something she’d told Sayed she was trying to avoid. But it was so infuriating seeing the way Juwayriah and her friends were talking so badly about Aliyah.
“SubhaanAllah,” Sayed muttered, shaking his head at the screen. “Is this why women get social media accounts? To multiply their sins?”
Reem bit her lower lip and glanced at her husband hesitantly, wondering if he’d read what she typed.
“Well, at least you have a few people who seem to fear Allah,” Sayed commented with a sigh, lifting the open laptop and handing it back to Reem. “But I don’t think it’s anything you need to get involved in.”
Reem creased her forehead as she set the laptop back on her legs, looking at Sayed. “You didn’t see what I said?”
“You were part of that discussion?” His eyebrows were gathered in disapproval as he regarded Reem.
“Yes, I thought you…” Her voice trailed as Sayed reached over and took the laptop back and quickly skimmed the screen, scrolling down in search of her name. Seconds later, he frowned, apparently as he re-read what she’d wrote. “Just keep in mind,” he read aloud, causing Reem to cringe and shut her eyes, “you not being invited to a wedding doesn’t make it secret... And it seems like this whole discussion was started to wreck someone’s home.”
At the sound of laughter, Reem’s eyes shot open as she looked at Sayed in disbelief, a hurt expression on her face.
“This short essay is yours?” he said, gesturing his hand toward the long comment, a grin on his face.
Reem opened her mouth to respond but didn’t know what to say.
“It’s fine, habeebti,” he said, leaning over to brush her cheek with a kiss. “It’s the third most sensible comment on the thread.”
“The third?” Reem repeated, unsure if he was mocking her.
“Tab’an,” he said. Of course. “In situations like these, the best advice is shortest and most meaningful.”
“It wasn’t that long,” Reem said, but she detected the uncertainty in her own voice as she leaned over and read her comment again.
“‘She’s your Muslim sister. Fear Allah’ was by far the best comment on that thread, mashaAllah,” he said. “The Prophet, sallallaahu’alayhi wa sallam, was known for giving very brief, meaningful pieces of advice. ‘Love for your brother what you love for yourself,’” Sayed enumerated. “ ‘Laa tagh’dhab. Don’t get angry.’”
“Then what was the second best comment?” Reem said, eyes still on the screen, feeling embarrassed as she compared her comment to the others.
Sayed put his forefinger beneath the comment by the person named Imrah Wahidah, then read aloud, “‘Does that apply to first wives too? They got him thru halal marriage, so they lose him thru halal marriage?’”
Reem wrinkled her nose in disagreement. “Why?” she said. “It’s sarcastic.”
Sayed shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s also a simple, thought-provoking rhetorical question,” he said. “And it takes their faulty logic and throws it right back at them. You’ll find these sorts of rhetorical, thought-provoking questions all throughout the Qur’an and Sunnah, especially in response to people doing or believing things that are wrong.”
Reem sighed. “I see what you mean,” she said. “Maybe I should delete my comment then…”
Sayed furrowed his brows. “Why? There’s nothing wrong with it.”
“But you said it’s a short essay.”
He chuckled. “But it’s a good short essay, mashaAllah. It’ll just come off as a bit whiny and self-righteous,” he said with a shrug. “And no one will probably read the whole thing. But deleting it won’t do any good either.”
“No one will read it?” Reem said, her tone conveying hurt. She had put a lot of thought into what she’d said, even if she had been upset.
“Except the people who don’t need to because they already fear Allah,” he said. “Other people generally have short attention spans,” he said. “And it’s even shorter when it’s something they disagree with. So no, the Facebook fitnah-mongers won’t give it more than a quick skim, then miss the whole point. But they’ll read enough to decide they don’t like you,” he said with a chuckle. “That, you can depend on.”
Reem frowned, folding her arms over her chest again. “Then what’s the point of amr bil ma’roof wa nahi ‘anil munkar?”
Sayed nodded, as if realizing something just then. “Astaghfirullah,” he said, seeking Allah’s forgiveness. “I shouldn’t have said no one will read it. Allahu’alam. A few probably will. And besides getting blessings for doing what you’re supposed to, that’s the point of commanding the good and forbidding the evil. The reminder benefits the believer.”
“But why do they keep doing that?”
“Who?” Sayed said, looking at Reem quizzically.
“These sisters.” She gestured toward the laptop screen. “You’d think they had enough after all those lies they spread about Aliyah and Jacob the first time.”
“Some people like fitnah,” Sayed said simply.
Reem contorted her face. “But why? It makes no sense.”
“It makes sense,” Sayed disagreed. “Think about it,” he said. “When you’re not doing what you’re supposed to, is what makes you happy connected to what Allah loves? Or something that you personally have strong feelings about?”
Reem immediately thought about her struggle to view Americans as equal to Arabs.
“We all fall into this sin sometimes,” Sayed said.
“Yes, sometimes,” Reem emphasized. “But every single day, all day? That’s stupid.”
“I can’t answer that,” Sayed said thoughtfully. “Because it is stupid. You’re not gaining anything, in this world or the Hereafter, by living like this.”
Reem huffed in annoyance. “I swear, sometimes I wish that sister would change her name.”
“What sister?”
“Juwayriah bint Abdullah.”
Sayed glanced at the screen again but didn’t say anything.
“How can she take the name of one of the mothers of believers,” Reem fumed, “then say she’s the daughter of the servant of Allah, and act like that?”
A thoughtful silence followed. “I don’t think she took the name. Her parents probably gave it to her,” Sayed said reflectively. “And it’s a beautiful name, mashaAllah. So she shouldn’t change it.”
“She should if she’s acting like that!”
Sayed shook his head. “No, she shouldn’t,” he said. “She should change her behavior if she’s acting like that. But she should keep the name. It could be a reminder to her one day.”
“But—”
“Should you change your family name from Muhammad whenever you sin?” Sayed asked gently. “No one is perfect.”
At that, Reem grew quiet, but she was still upset.
“Remember when you and Mashael were discussing hijab and you said if a woman can’t cover properly or act like a Muslim in public, it’s better she doesn’t cover at all?”
Reem frowned at the memory, but she nodded.
“Like I said then,” Sayed continued, “we should never wish someone harms their soul just because we’re embarrassed by them. Islam is not a PR campaign to impress non-Muslims. And it’s a very dangerous mindset to wish bad upon your Muslim brothers and sisters just so you can make Islam look better to disbelievers.”
***
“Did you find anybody for Jamil yet?”
“Yet?” Salima repeated, smiling into the cordless phone that she held with one hand as she now stood in the kitchen, glancing around for what she could eat for breakfast.
“Isn’t he single?” Larry said.
“Yes…” Salima said, a question in her tone. “For now. Why do you ask?”
“A brother is looking for someone for his daughter.”
Salima chuckled and shook her head. “And I assume he asked you because he wanted you for her.”
She heard Larry laugh self-consciously. “Well…”
“And you told him…?”
“I told him I was already talking to someone for marriage.”
“And who would that be?” she said teasingly.
Larry chuckled. “Come on, Salima. Don’t give a brother a hard time.”
“So you’re thinking about marriage now?”
“That’s all I’ve ever been thinking about.”
Salima grinned as she reached for a box of cereal from atop the refrigerator then set it on the counter. “I mean, is it more than just thinking this time?”
“I’m praying on it,” he said in a serious tone. “But I think I’m ready.” There was a thoughtful pause. “If you are.”
Salima opened a cabinet and removed a glass bowl. “Then I have some praying to do myself,” she said, a smile in her voice.
“Let me know what you think,” Larry said. “Because the ball’s pretty much in your court.”
“Let me talk to Jamil and my parents and get back with you.”
“I’m willing to meet them,” Larry said. “Your parents, I mean. If you want me to.”
“Of course, I do,” Salima said. “But they prefer to be informed only after I’m sure what I want.”
“I heard that Muslim parents micromanage their children’s marriages,” Larry said, light humor in his tone.
Salima grunted, mirroring his humor. “Not mine,” she said. “I’m too grown for that.” She added, “And they’re too secure.”
“So it’s not like a rule or something that the parents have to agree?” There was genuine curiosity in his tone.
“It’s definitely preferred,” Salima said tentatively. “But previously married women have more autonomy.”
Larry chuckled self-consciously. “So us getting married doesn’t hinge on what they say?”
Salima grinned. “No,” she said. “But I value what they think.”
“I can live with that,” Larry said.
“So let me see what they say and get back to you.”
“Okay,” he said. “Sounds fair.”
“But who’s this mystery woman you think is good for Jamil?” she said, returning to the original subject.
“Oh, I don’t know her,” Larry clarified. “I just know she’s eighteen, in her first year of college, and never been married before.”
Salima felt a twinge of jealousy. “Sounds like a good catch.”
“Nah,” Larry said. “Not for me.”
“Why not?” Salima asked curiously, opening a drawer to get a spoon.
“Too young,” Larry said.
“She and you have about the same age difference as you and I,” Salima pointed out.
“It’s not the age difference,” he said. “It’s her age.”
“Some eighteen-year-olds are pretty mature.”
“In theory maybe, but not in reality.”
Salima creased her forehead as she opened the refrigerator and removed a half-gallon of milk. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not saying an eighteen-year-old isn’t mature enough for marriage,” he clarified. “I’m just saying an eighteen-year-old isn’t mature enough for me.”
Salima raised her eyebrows as she poured her cereal and milk then returned the milk to the refrigerator. “And why not for you?”
“I’m almost thirty years old,” he said. “What would we have in common?”
“What do you and I have in common?” Salima asked rhetorically.
“That’s different,” he said.
“Why?”
“You and I have been in previous relationships,” he said. “This girl’s probably never dated a man in her life, and she’s most likely a virgin.”
“And that’s a problem?”
“For me it is.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not a virgin,” he said simply. “Aren’t virgins supposed to marry virgins?”
“You mean in Islam?”
“Isn’t that a rule in the Qur’an or something?”
“No,” Salima said. “Chaste people can only marry chaste people,” she said. “What’s forbidden is for someone living a life of fornication or adultery to marry someone who’s living properly.”
“What if you sinned before becoming Muslim?”
“Then you’ve repented insha’Allah, and so long as you’re no longer living like that, then you’re considered chaste.”
“Oh,” Larry said, as if this was the first he’d heard of this.
“You know, Jamil is divorced...”
“Really?” Larry’s voice rose in surprise.
“You didn’t know that?”
There was extended silence. “Oh yeah…” Larry said, as if remembering just then. “I forgot about that. Probably because he doesn’t have any children.”
Salima sat down at the kitchen table with her bowl of cereal and mumbled “Bismillaah” before bringing a spoonful of cereal to her mouth. A thought came to her after she’d eaten a few bites. “Do you want to reconsider our situation now that you know you have more options?”
There was a long pause, and Salima sensed Larry’s confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Now that you know it’s not haraam for you to marry a virgin.”
Larry laughed out loud. “No thank you.”
Salima chuckled, a question in that sound. “Why do you say that?”
“Not interested,” Larry said. “Like I said, I don’t think they’re mature enough for me.”
“Why not?”
“They’re clingy, needy, and possessive, for starters,” he said.
“Ouch,” Salima said before eating more cereal in silence.
“I don’t mean it offensively,” he said. “It’s just that I’m ready to start a family, and I want my wife to have some life experience to pass on to our children. I don’t want to have to raise my children and my wife.”
“You really think it would be like that?”
“For me, yes.”
Salima was overcome with sadness all of a sudden, but she finished her cereal before voicing what was on her mind. “What if I can’t have any more children?” she asked quietly.
“You mean because of your age?” Larry said.
Salima frowned. “Yes.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, insha’Allah.”
“But what if it’s the bridge we’re at right now?” she asked. “What will you do?”
There was a thoughtful pause. “I don’t know,” he said honestly.
Salima lifted the spoon and played with it mindlessly. “Would you want to marry another wife?”
Larry was silent for several seconds. “I don’t know.” Her heart fell at his words. “But I don’t think so,” he added.
Salima set the spoon down, her eyebrows drawn together, perplexed. “You mean you’re willing to never have children of your own?”
“I don’t think it matters what I’m willing to do,” Larry said. “It only matters what’s written for me. Even if you can’t have children, marrying another woman doesn’t guarantee anything,” he said. “If Allah has written I’ll have children, then I will. If He’s written I won’t, then I won’t. So what’s the point of chasing the unknown?”
“But you’re okay with not even trying?”
Larry chuckled. “You’re speaking as if you believe we don’t have a chance. Of course I want to try. But marriage is about more than having children. It’s about what we can offer each other in this world. Even if we’re never able to offer it to anyone else.”
A reflective smile played at Salima’s lips. “That’s true. The husband and wife are helpmates to each other,” she said, “helping each other worship Allah and go to Paradise.”
“And that’s what I’m looking for,” Larry said. “If Allah wants to bless us with children too, then I’m more than happy to enjoy that blessing.”
They were both lost in thought for some time.
“You can go ahead and tell Jamil about that sister,” Salima said finally, hoping to drop the subject of polygyny. It inspired too much discomfort. After repenting for how she’d treated Kalimah, Salima often wondered if Allah would humble her further by decreeing that she live as a co-wife herself.
“You don’t want to tell him?”
“No,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Because he’s back in touch with his ex-wife.” She lowered her voice in case Jamil was awake.
“Back in touch?” Larry repeated, confused. “In what way?”
“That’s what I don’t know,” Salima said. “But he might be considering remarrying her.”
“Really?” Larry sounded disappointed.
“You sound like me,” Salima said in dry humor.
“I don’t know anything about his marriage,” Larry clarified. “But it made me think of Jazzy.”
“Jasmine?”
“Yes, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m so used to calling her Jazzy.”
Salima laughed. “It’s okay,” she said. “I don’t mind.”
“You don’t?” Larry sounded genuinely surprised.
“Why would I mind?” she said. “If you call someone by their nickname long enough, you tend to forget their real name.”
“Well, I’m glad you understand,” Larry said, sounding relieved.
“I don’t know everything that happened with you and Jasmine,” Salima said after a thoughtful pause, “but Jamil’s situation is kind of complicated.”
“Then do you think it’s a good idea to mention someone else?”
“I think so,” Salima said, emphasizing herself. “If only to let him know he has options. But I can’t be the one to do it because it might sound disrespectful.”
“But if he’s thinking of remarrying the woman…”
“I think that’s exactly what he’s thinking,” Salima said. “But I can’t be sure she’s thinking the same.”
“Are you serious?” Larry sounded concerned.
Salima sighed then stood and left the kitchen, deciding this was a conversation that was better had in the privacy of her room. “Hold on a minute,” she said then ascended the steps to her room. She closed the door and locked it before sitting on her bed.
“Let me put it like this,” Salima said. “I don’t like the sister. But it’s not my place to say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because my role is to be the supportive big sister.”
“And you can’t tell him the truth?”
Salima drew in a deep breath and exhaled, thinking of the difficult relationship she’d had with Kalimah when Mikaeel was alive. “I wish I could, but my opinions have gotten me into trouble in the past, and I don’t want to make the same mistake. If I had something concrete to tell him, I would.” She sighed. “But the main problem I had with her, she says she’s no longer involved in.”
Larry chuckled knowingly. “Sounds like Jasmine after I became Muslim,” he said. “Now she’s suddenly Muslim.”
Salima frowned thoughtfully. “That’s the thing though. You don’t know what’s in someone’s heart. I don’t feel good about his ex-wife, but what is a feeling?”
“Trust your gut,” Larry remarked. “That’s what I say.”
“But I’m not the one interested in marrying her,” Salima said. “So my gut is irrelevant, don’t you think?”
Larry was quiet momentarily. “I wouldn’t say it’s irrelevant…”
“Your gut told you not to marry Jasmine,” Salima said. “But Jamil’s gut is telling him to marry this sister.”
“He told you that?” Larry sounded doubtful.
“No, but…”
“Because what you want and what you know deep down are two different things,” he said.
“But not everyone knows the difference.”
“I think we do,” Larry said. “We just don’t want to believe we do.”
Salima drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “I’ll have to think long and hard before I say anything to him though.”
“Why?”
She sighed. “Because, like I said, I don’t have a good track record with my opinions. And I have to figure out if this is really my gut saying something’s wrong, or if it’s just me saying something’s wrong.”
There was a thoughtful pause before Larry asked, “What are your objections?”
Salima folded her legs in front of her, trying to decide how much she should share. “Her practice of Islam mainly.”
“She doesn’t pray?”
“She prays,” she said tentatively. “And wears hijab,” she added.
“Then what’s the problem?”
Salima pursed her lips, deciding the best way to put her thoughts into words. “She’s what some would call a Muslim groupie.”
“A groupie?” Larry said, and Salima could hear in his voice how appalled he was.
Salima chuckled. “Not that type of groupie,” she clarified.
“Is there another type?”
“I mean, she feels she has to attach herself to people before she can attach herself to Allah.”
There was a thoughtful pause. “What do you mean?”
“You know how in Christianity, people worship Jesus to draw closer to God?”
“Yes.”
“It’s sort of like that,” Salima said. “Some Muslims feel they need something tangible to turn to before they can worship Allah.”
“But isn’t that shirk?” Larry sounded confused.
“Yes, if it’s done in the literal sense,” Salima said. “But with this sister, her sect believes you have to commit to a particular sheikh and spiritual path before you can be a real Muslim.”
There was an extended silence, and Salima sensed Larry’s confusion. “So…” he said, as if having a difficult time formulating his question. “…how is that different from Islam? I mean, isn’t Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, our sheikh, and his Sunnah our spiritual path?”
“Yes.”
“Then…”
“It’s hard to explain,” Salima said, “because each group is different. But in this sister’s group, they believe their sheikh has reached such a high spiritual state that’s he’s incapable of sin, and that if you draw closer to him, you draw closer to Allah.”
Salima heard Larry laugh out loud. “You serious?”
“Dead,” she said, no humor in her tone.
“But how does that work?” he said, sounding genuinely confounded. “Do they have their own shahaadah and everything?”
“Pretty much,” Salima said. “Though they don’t call it that. Some of them call it bai’ah, but some of them don’t call it anything. They just commit themselves to following their saint, then they—”
“Their saint?” Larry interjected, humored disbelief in his tone.
“—pretty much treat him like he’s Allah or the Prophet, sallallahu’alayhi wa sallam.”
“Is this Muslim Catholicism or something?” he said incredulously.
“To me it is,” she said. “But to them it’s just venerating the awliyaa’ of Allah.”
“The what?”
“Awliyaa’,” Salima said. “They’re the believers who are closest and most beloved to Allah. It’s a term from the Qur’an and Sunnah talking about the prophets and messengers and the believers whom Allah has singled out due to their high level of emaan and commitment to Him.”
“Oh I think I read something about that,” Larry said. “These are the people of ihsaan, right?”
“Yes,” she said. “But this group translates awliyaa’ as saints. But either way, Muslims aren’t permitted to claim this station for anyone other than the prophets and messengers and anyone specifically mentioned in the Qur’an and Sunnah.” She huffed. “And you certainly can’t claim it for yourself.”
“People claim to be saints?” Larry asked in disbelief.
“Yes, unfortunately.”
“I thought you meant some Muslims treat their sheikhs like the Christians treat prophet Jesus, peace be upon him,” Larry said, “but the sheikhs didn’t ask them to.”
“That happens too,” Salima said. “But the group Jamil’s ex-wife is part of, the sheikh himself says he’s a saint. And he says people are obligated to follow him.” She grunted then added, “And that you can’t follow any other sheikh along with him.”
She heard Larry suck in his breath. “Wow, that’s some crazy stuff,” he said, and Salima could almost see him shaking his head, a disbelieving smirk on his face. “That sounds like how I was taught to think about Allah. I can’t worship any other god along with Him.”
Salima coughed laughter, agreeing.
“Jacob told me about the different sects of Muslims,” Larry said. “But I didn’t know it was like that. Makes me wonder if these people ever really learned about Islam.”
She shook her head, a reflective smile lingering on her face. “Trust me,” she said. “Many of them have. They just don’t see anything wrong with adding their own spice to it.”
There was a thoughtful pause. “Is Jamil into that kind of stuff too?”
Salima drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “No, mashaAllah,” she said. “He’s just really into this sister.”
“Fatal attraction, huh?” Larry said in dry humor.
“Allahu’alam,” Salima said, acknowledging that Allah knew best. “I could be wrong about this whole thing.”
“But what they’re doing sounds really messed up.”
“I don’t mean about the beliefs,” she said. “I mean about the sister. She says she’s no longer part of that group.”
Larry was silent momentarily. “And you believe her?”
“No,” Salima said. “But I don’t have any proof.”
“What makes you doubt her?”
“Because that’s still her social circle,” Salima said. “And one thing I know about these sects is, unless they see you as a potential convert, they’re not welcoming to outsiders,” she said. “Any whiff of you having doubt about their sheikh or their group, you’re ostracized and shut out of everything, even dinner invitations.”
“So you think she’s lying?”
Salima frowned thoughtfully. “No…” She was unsure how to put her thoughts into words. “I just don’t think she realizes what she’s gotten herself into.”
Larry was quiet for some time. “That sounds like a cult.” His voice was etched in concern.
“Sometimes it is,” Salima said.
“Sometimes?” Larry repeated, humor in his tone.
“Because every group that has mistakes isn’t a cult.”
“And you don’t think this one is?”
Salima was silent momentarily. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “But even if it were, I don’t think the sister will realize it until it’s too late.”
“What do you mean?”
“Because usually people don’t realize what’s happening until their life is turned upside down and they have no one to turn to,” she said. “Because all their connections are through their group. And if you reach out to someone you think is a friend, they’ll only help you if you fully commit to everything you’re trying to get away from.”
Larry was silent for some time. “Can I ask you something?”
By the tone of his voice, Salima knew Larry’s question was completely unrelated to Jamil and his ex-wife. “Sure,” Salima said.
“And this is just hypothetical,” he said, as if in lighthearted warning.
Salima immediately grew concerned. “Okay…” she said, caution in her voice.
“What if one day I did want to marry another wife?” Larry said, and Salima immediately felt weak at his words. “Would you support me?”
Rage flashed through Salima, and she tried to calm herself. “We didn’t think you were a womanizer…” she recalled saying to Larry. “Just not a one-woman man?” Larry had replied. “Well, I can’t speak about the future,” he’d said, answering his own question, “but so far, that’s all I’ve been. That’s how I was raised, and that’s how I intend to remain in marriage.”
“Support you?” Salima repeated, hoping the curious tone she was trying to maintain masked the horror she felt right then.
“Yes.” Larry spoke as if supporting her husband’s efforts to sleep with another woman was the most natural reflection of wifely righteousness.
“I thought you were a one-woman man,” she said teasingly, hoping she sounded as lighthearted as she intended.
“I am,” Larry said. “I was just wondering how you’d react if that changed.” He chuckled. “You’re not going to go Deanna on me, I hope.”
Salima gritted her teeth. “Don’t talk about Deanna like that.”
Larry laughed. “Okay fine,” he said non-committedly. “But would you fight me about it?”
“I wouldn’t be happy,” Salima said, deciding that was a safe response.
“I wouldn’t be either,” Larry said.
Salima creased her forehead, as if waiting for the punch line. “Why wouldn’t you be happy?” This time, she made no effort to mask her sarcasm.
Larry chuckled. “You women really think men have no hearts, huh?”
“The jury is still out,” Salima said, a smirk on her face.
“Now, that’s cold,” Larry said in lighthearted humor.
“Well, I’m not the one bringing up polygamy before we’re even married.”
Larry laughed out loud. “Are you joking?” he said. “You asked me if I’d want to marry another woman if you can’t have children. I wasn’t even thinking about polygamy before you brought it up.”
Oh. Salima’s face was aflame in embarrassment. “Would you want to marry another wife?” she’d asked him only minutes before. “Well, I didn’t mean it like that,” she muttered defensively.
“Like what?” Larry said, unmasked amusement in his voice.
“I was speaking hypothetically.”
“So was I.”
“And this is just hypothetical,” Salima recalled Larry’s words just then. Mortified, she didn’t know what to say.
“You know this is why women get a bad rep, don’t you?” Larry said, humor still in his tone. “You guys start stuff then pin it on us.” He chuckled. “I swear, before I became Muslim, I laughed out loud when I read that verse in the Qur’an about having two women witnesses.”
And if there are not two men [available], then a man and two women, such as you agree for witnesses, so that if one of them errs, the other can remind her…Salima recalled the part of the ayah in Al-Baqarah that Larry was referring to.
“I was like, this Book is the real deal,” Larry said. “It talks about things we all know are true but people try to deny in the name of feminism and what not.”
Salima didn’t know whether to feel proud or offended. “Women have good qualities, too,” she said.
“Of course,” Larry said. “Being emotional and forgetful aren’t bad qualities. It is what it is.”
“Men can be emotional and forgetful,” she said defensively.
Larry chuckled. “Are we really going to do this? This politically correct back-and-forth? You memorized the whole Qur’an, so you know better than I do that men and women are different.”
And the male is not like the female…
“Why do you all do that though?” Larry asked, genuine curiosity in his tone. “Try to prove women are equal or better than men? There’s nothing wrong with having human fault. Men have their faults too.”
Salima grew irritated all of a sudden. “Maybe because we’ve been oppressed too long.”
“Fair enough,” Larry said. “But then shouldn’t your focus be on fighting oppression instead of denying who you are? How does denying your female traits help you?”
“We’re not all dimwits,” she said bitterly.
Larry sighed. “Look, Salima,” he said, his voice soft in empathy and exhaustion. “I don’t mean to offend you. I think we both know I’m not saying women are stupid. It’s just hard to have a serious conversation with women sometimes because you all get offended over stuff that has nothing to do with anything.”
Salima huffed and rolled her eyes.
“All I’m asking is the same question you asked me. You asked what I’d do if things didn’t turn out like we expect with you having children, and I’m asking you how you’d feel if things didn’t turn out like we expect with me being married to only you.”
Salima understood his point, but it was hard to let go of her hurt. “I’m sorry,” she muttered after a few seconds. “It’s just a really difficult subject for me.”
“I can understand that,” Larry said. “But it really is just a question. I don’t have any plans on marrying another wife.”
Salima drew in a deep breath and exhaled, her eyes growing distant. “I used to be dead-set against polygamy,” she said. “But now the whole concept just terrifies me.”
“What do you fear most?”
“My emaan,” she said. “And my ikhlaas.”
“Your faith and sincerity?” Larry asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I fear for my faith because I don’t want to question Allah,” she said. “And I fear for my ikhlaas because I’m scared I won’t even care what’s best for me. I just don’t want it in my life.”