The Big Day
Pleased with herself, Deanna grinned as she stood in the dining hall of the masjid amidst the waleemah decorations. Shimmery teal tablecloths lay over each table, and shimmery black chair covers clothed each seat and were adorned by large teal bows, all Deanna’s own handiwork. Teal and black helium balloon centerpieces sat atop each table and were accented with silver ribbon.
Deanna had pushed herself through her conflicting emotions and had done the interior design for the women’s section of the wedding party for Aliyah and Jacob simply because it was a nice thing to do. The author of the self-help book was right, Deanna thought to herself. Selflessness was indeed therapeutic. Helping with the waleemah hadn’t erased her feelings of resentment altogether, but it did help her realize that anger could only stunt her healing.
But don’t mistake therapy for healing, the author had cautioned. Just because something helps you in the path of healing doesn’t mean it will ultimately heal you. More than anything, being a better person is a journey that has no final destination, except the journey itself.
Deanna doubted her journey would ever lead her to fully forgive Jacob and Aliyah for what they had done, but she would be remiss to deny that she herself was in need of forgiveness.
“Well, what do you need me for?”
Deanna turned at the sound of a voice and saw Juwayriah standing near the entrance, hands on her hips as her gaze swept the length of the room. “It looks like you did everything yourself.”
“We still need to lay out the napkins and silverware,” Deanna said, nodding her head toward a large cardboard box on the floor near her feet. “And the cups and plates need to be put on each table so everyone can—”
“Why are you doing this?” Juwayriah interjected, disapproval in her tone, causing Deanna to stop mid-sentence.
Frowning in aggravation, Deanna rolled her eyes. The last thing she needed was someone criticizing her organizational skills an hour before the guests were scheduled to arrive. “Because it’s easier than having everyone stand in line looking for the plates and cups.”
Juwayriah flipped her hand dismissively. “I don’t mean all this silly Martha Stewart stuff. I mean, this.” She gestured a hand, moving it to indicate the span of the room. “It’s too much. Aliyah doesn’t deserve this.”
Deanna’s nose flared as she fought a wave of irritation and reached into the cardboard box. “Did I say Aliyah deserves this?” she said as she took out a package of black plates and tore into the plastic packaging. “I’m doing this for me.”
Walking over to the box herself, Juwayriah lifted her upper lip in disapproval as she reached into the box and withdrew a large package of silver-gray napkins. “I hope you’re joking, girl,” she said as she ripped open the top and began laying out the napkins in front of the chairs of the nearest table. “How can celebrating someone stealing your husband help you?”
Right then Deanna was reminded of something her psychiatrist had said to her: “I like that you want to remain friends with your husband’s new wife, but I think it’s too soon to be actively involved in anything that is a direct reminder of your pain.”
“Can you just shut up and set up the tables?” Deanna snapped, letting the loose plastic packaging from the plates drop back into the open cardboard box. “I asked you to come help, not tell me what to do.”
“I’m not telling you what to do,” Juwayriah retorted, wrinkling her nose. “I’m just asking a question. I really don’t get what would possess you to do something like this.”
Holding a stack of plates, Deanna glowered at her. “Look, are you going to help or what?”
“I am helping,” Juwayriah said, slapping napkins on the table as she spoke. “I didn’t know helping meant keeping my mouth shut. I’m only asking because I care about you.”
“What’s so wrong with doing a good thing?” Deanna said as she carefully placed a single plate in front of each seat at a table near her.
“You call this a good thing?” There was humored disbelief in Juwayriah’s tone. “I don’t see how your husband sleeping with your best friend could ever be good.”
“We-are-divorced,” Deanna said through gritted teeth, keeping her eyes on the plates she was arranging as she tried to keep calm.
“But you didn’t have to be,” Juwayriah said. “You should’ve never let Aliyah come in and sweep him up when you weren’t looking.”
Deanna halted her arrangements, a plate suspended midair as she turned to glare at Juwayriah. “You think I let this happen?”
“Of course you let it happen,” Juwayriah said, not bothering to look at Deanna. “You are way better than Aliyah, but you’re practically pushing Jacob to be with her.”
Deanna opened her mouth to respond when she was overcome with an odd sense of déjà vu. It was if she were standing in Aliyah’s apartment berating her for being so stupid as to have let Matt marry Nikki. Except, in the recollection, she found herself the recipient of her own tongue-lashing.
“Stop trying, Ally, and do,” Deanna had scolded her friend. “I don’t sit around saying I’m trying to stay married. I stay married…You look way better than Matt’s new wife. There’s no way he would’ve chosen her over you without you egging him on.”
Deanna hadn’t suffered an involuntary screaming episode since she’d thrown herself into sewing tablecloths and chair covers and buying waleemah decorations. But right then, despondency settled over her as her legs weakened, and there was a restlessness clawing at the back of her throat.
“When you feel the screaming about to happen,” her psychiatrist had told her, “separate yourself from the trigger immediately, and find a quiet place to sit where you can catch your breath.”
“I have to go,” Deanna said suddenly, her voice clipped as she snatched up her purse from the seat of a chair and pulled the straps over her shoulder.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Juwayriah’s tone was merciless in its rebuke. “I didn’t come all the way here to do this by myself.”
“Nikki should be here any minute,” Deanna said as she walked swiftly to the door, her back to Juwayriah.
“She better be,” Juwayriah grumbled as Deanna pulled the door open and let it close behind her.
Do not judge so that you will not be judged, the Bible verses her mother often quoted resonated in her mind. For in the way you judge, you will be judged. The voice spoke in time with the pounding in her head. And by your standard of measure, it will be measured to you.
It did not escape Deanna the irony of being reminded of verses from the biblical chapter entitled Matthew, the same name of Aliyah’s former husband, when only a moment before Deanna felt a sense of déjà vu at being Aliyah herself.
The cold air slapped Deanna’s face and ripped into her arms, a harsh announcement that she’d left her coat in the masjid. But the keys to her car were in her purse, so she could sit in her car until the threat of a screaming episode passed. You should’ve never let Aliyah come in and sweep him up when you weren’t looking. Deanna clamped her mouth shut, biting down rage as she pulled the car door open and lowered herself onto the ice-cold seat. She fumbled in the stiff cold as she pushed the key into the ignition and turned on the engine before pulling the driver’s door closed.
“Islam teaches us that God is the foundation of all our relationships, so when you understand this, life isn’t so difficult...” In her head, her own voice mocked her as the vent blew cold air in her face. “Only people without a proper understanding of God and the sacred bond of marriage have serious problems in their lives and marriages.”
Then came the words, the lyrical invasion, falling upon her like an avalanche of rock, a stampeding reminder of the glumness of qadr, her own divinely decreed fate.
Your tongue cannot stop qadr. But it can certainly complicate yours.
***
Larry smiled into the full-length mirror affixed to the open door of the master bathroom of his home. “Well, what can I say?” he said, raising his voice as he smoothed down the lapels of his suit jacket with the flat of his hands. “I see you too.”
He heard Salima’s laughter from his mobile phone that lay on the counter near the sink. “But I didn’t appreciate that, just so you know,” her resonant tone crackled slightly through the speakerphone.
“I know you didn’t,” he said, humor in his tone. “But I didn’t do it to earn brownie points. I really wasn’t sure I liked you.”
“Well…” Salima said, her tone sounding reflective. “I can’t blame you for that.”
“Oh, now don’t get all self-flagellating on me,” he teased. “You know my opinion of you wouldn’t change how special you are.”
“But it would change how special I feel.”
“Then let’s get married tonight,” Larry said jokingly. “I’m sure that’ll make you feel special again.”
Salima laughed. “That would make for an interesting scandal,” she said. “Qur’an teacher disappears with rumored womanizer. Last seen at her student’s waleemah.”
“Aw, come on,” Larry said, picking up the mobile phone and carrying it away from his face as he walked into his room. “Why I got to be a womanizer?”
“I said rumored.”
“And that makes it better?” he joked.
There was a thoughtful pause. “You sure your brother is up for this road trip next weekend?” Salima said, doubt in her voice as she changed the subject. “It feels like we’re taking him away from his honeymoon.”
Larry coughed laughter. “Honeymoon? With Aliyah eight weeks pregnant, I’d say they’ve already had their honeymoon.”
“Aliyah’s pregnant?”
Larry pinched his eyes closed and smacked a hand against his forehead in self-rebuke. “You didn’t hear that,” he said quickly.
“Aliyah’s pregnant?” Salima said again, her voice rising in surprised disbelief. “But she didn’t say anything about it.”
“Like I said,” Larry replied, speaking slowly as if coaching Salima, “you didn’t hear it from me.”
“Jacob told you?”
“Uh…” he said, humor in his tone. “Aliyah certainly didn’t.”
He heard Salima chuckle, as if laughing at herself. “I know. I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just…surprised.”
“Why?” Larry said. “They’re married.”
“I know. It’s just…” The speakerphone was silent for a few seconds. “Aliyah was really excited about finishing her doctorate and having her job pay for it and everything.”
“Oh.” Larry frowned thoughtfully. “Then maybe she can still do that,” he said. “She has seven months before she has to worry about anything, right?”
Salima coughed laughter. “It’s not that simple.”
“I didn’t say it was,” Larry said. “I’m saying if she really wants to, she still can, and she has seven months lead time to worry about a baby.”
“Okay, Larry,” Salima said, laughter in her voice. “Whatever you say.”
“But the subject only came up because Jacob was saying Aliyah might not be up for the drive,” Larry said. “And we might have to bring the children along if she’s not feeling well.” He grunted. “And I figured you weren’t up for asking Jamil.”
“Not a chance,” Salima said, her voice clipped. “I’m not even sure I’ll let him know I’m going.”
“You serious?” Larry said, chuckling. “You two have one little spat and all bets are off?”
“I don’t consider it a little spat,” Salima said, defensiveness in her tone. “Anyway, I’ll still let him watch Haroon when I stay late at work.”
“Let him?” Larry said, humored. “You say it like you’re doing him a favor. He doesn’t have to watch your son, you know.”
“I know that,” Salima said, voice tight. “But Haroon is his nephew.”
“And your responsibility.”
“I know,” she muttered, seeming to let go of her offense a bit. “It’s just hard to look at him the same.”
“Why? Because he has his own mind?”
“Look who’s talking. You’re the one accusing him of stabbing you in the back.”
“But he’s not my brother,” Larry said. “So I can think what I want.” He shrugged. “At least until we’re married.”
“And he’ll suddenly become an angel because you’re married to me?”
“No. But he’ll suddenly become family.”
“And?”
“And I owe him mad respect for that.”
Salima huffed. “Respect for what? Being born?”
“Look, Salima,” Larry said, slight exhaustion in his voice. “I’m not going to lie. I’m not a big fan of Jamil right now. But he’s a grown man, and Jasmine’s a grown woman, so they can do whatever they want. He and Jasmine weren’t in a relationship while I was with her, so I can’t really say he stabbed me in the back.” Larry grunted. “But I definitely don’t appreciate him helping her jeopardize my chances with you.”
“I think that was more about me than you,” Salima said. “I think it was his way of letting me know he has opinions about my life just like I have opinions about his.”
Larry set his mobile phone on the dresser then pulled open a drawer. “So he really joined that groupie thing you were telling me about?”
He heard Salima sigh through the speakerphone. “I don’t know… We’re not exactly on speaking terms right about now.”
“It’ll pass, insha’Allah,” Larry said as he pulled out a neatly rolled pair of dark socks then closed the drawer. “Families go through stuff like this all the time.”
“Not mine. This is new for us,” Salima said, a tinge of sadness in her voice.
Larry chuckled, picking up the phone, the pair of socks in his other hand. “It was new for every family when it happened the first time,” he said as he walked over to his bed and sat down on the edge. “Like I said, families go through stuff like this all the time. No one starts off knowing how to handle these sorts of problems. But no one escapes them.”
“That’s depressing,” Salima said. “You’d hope some families stick together, no matter what.”
“Salima, Salima, Salima.” There was laughter in Larry’s voice as he repeated her name and set the phone next to him then unrolled his socks. “There’s so much you have to learn and so little time,” he teased as he set down a sock then pulled on another, then picked up the other and put it on. “Sticking together doesn’t mean you agree on everything,” he said. “It means you’re there for each other even when you hate each other’s guts.”
“I don’t hate Jamil,” Salima said tentatively, thoughtful reflection in her tone. “I just…don’t understand him.”
“And you don’t have to,” Larry said. “You think Jacob and I understand each other all the time? Or even our parents?”
“You all seem fine to me.”
He coughed laughter. “Everybody seems fine, Salima.”
There was an awkward pause before Larry heard Salima burst out laughing. An uncertain grin creased a corner of Larry’s mouth. “Did I say something funny?”
“I’m sorry,” Salima said in an apparent effort to gather her composure. “I just had a déjà vu moment.”
Larry drew his eyebrows together. “About…”
“About me and Mikaeel.”
At the mention of her late husband, Larry grew quiet. It made no sense to be jealous of a dead man, so he tried his best to remain levelheaded. “Really?” He hoped his voice sounded as genuinely curious as he intended.
“Yes.” The carefree laughter in her voice quelled Larry’s concerns, as she apparently hadn’t picked up on his discomfort. “I used to always say somebody seemed nice.” She spoke as if enjoying the memory. “And Mikaeel would say, ‘Everybody seems nice, Salima. Come up with a better line.’”
Larry chuckled in an effort to encourage her relaxed mood. “I can’t say he’s wrong there.”
“I probably would’ve said Aliyah’s family seems nice if I didn’t know any better.”
He creased his forehead. “What’s wrong with Aliyah’s family?”
“What’s right with it is a simpler question.”
Larry felt uncomfortable with this shift in conversation. “You sure we’re not breaking a friend code or something discussing her family like this?”
Salima was quiet momentarily. “I hope not,” she said, a tinge of self-doubt in her tone. “She and I joke about swapping families all the time. Me so I can live my life without worrying about anyone’s opinion, and her so she can know how it feels to have Muslim family besides her uncle.”
“Isn’t one of her brothers-in-law about to become Muslim?” Larry said. “I met him at Brother Benjamin’s house.”
“You mean Joseph?” Salima said, disapproval in her voice. “Cassie’s husband?”
“Yes. Joseph,” Larry said, remembering just then. “He went through a lot of trouble to meet his Muslim family. He and Jacob have been keeping in touch, I believe.”
Salima huffed. “Not anymore, most likely.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Last I heard, Joseph isn’t interested in Islam anymore,” Salima said.
“Really?”
“And apparently, he doesn’t want anything to do with Aliyah, Jacob, or Benjamin,” Salima said. “He even changed his cell number and everything.”
The news disappointed Larry deeply. In some ways, Joseph had reminded Larry of himself before he became Muslim. He’d sensed Joseph’s spiritual turmoil and keenness to find the truth despite the odds against him. “I’m sorry to hear that,” Larry said sincerely, voice subdued.
“Aliyah thinks her mother might have threatened to take his job,” Salima said, sadness in her tone. “And between that and Cassie threatening to divorce him, he probably felt he had no choice.”
Larry’s lips formed a thin line as he frowned thoughtfully. “That’s a tough position to be in.”
“I know…”
“This whole business of changing religions can be scary,” Larry said, lost in thought. “No one wants to think everything they believed about life and God is wrong.”
Salima was quiet for several seconds. “Maybe that’s what Jamil is going through.”
Larry drew his eyebrows together as he stood and walked out the room, carrying the phone inches from his face. “I thought you were both raised Muslim.”
“We were. I just think Jamil thinks everything he learned from our parents is wrong.”
“You think he’s doubting Islam?” Larry’s voice rose in concern as he walked down the hall and entered the living room.
“No, nothing like that,” Salima said. “I just think he feels more comfortable with something specific he can hold on to.”
Larry pulled his head back in surprise. “Other than Islam?”
“No,” Salima said. “Other than our parents’ generic, non-specific version of Islam.”
“I thought we weren’t supposed to have versions of Islam,” Larry said.
“Well, that’s what my parents and I believe,” Salima said thoughtfully. “To us, there are only two goals when it comes to Islam. Follow truth, and avoid falsehood.”
“Sounds about right to me.”
“But it’s easier said than done.”
“What isn’t?” Larry said as he set the phone on a table near the foyer next to his wallet and keys.
“I agree,” Salima said. “But I think he feels it can be easier than we make it out to be.”
“We as in you and your parents?” Larry said as he kneeled to put on his designer work boots.
“Yes.”
He shrugged as he pulled on the laces of his boots and tied them. “Maybe it is.”
“That’s possible…” Salima said tentatively. “But to me, his solution is way more complicated than ours.”
“What’s his solution?” Larry said as he stood and opened the front closet.
“Commit to a single spiritual teacher and blindly follow him for the rest of your life.”
Larry sucked in his breath in disapproval and concern as he removed his trench coat from a hanger.
“My thoughts exactly,” Salima voice’s crackled from the speakerphone. “I keep asking him, ‘With so many different teachers and scholars out there, how can you settle on a single one?’”
“What does he say to that?” Larry said as he shrugged on his coat.
“He asks me the same thing,” Salima said, defeat in her tone. “Except he says, ‘How can you not settle on a single one?’”
Larry chuckled. “He has a point there,” he said. “Leave it to the lawyer.”
“But everyone has a point,” Salima said. “My question is, where is yours pointing you to? I just don’t see the safety in shutting your eyes to every source of religious knowledge out there except one random teacher,” she said. “And then you don’t even know whether or not your teacher will end up in Paradise?” She grunted. “No thank you.”
Larry picked up the phone and took it off speakerphone then put it to his ear. “Can I play devil’s advocate for a second?”
“As long as you don’t mean it literally,” Salima joked.
Larry chuckled as he lifted his wallet and put it in the pocket of his coat. “Isn’t it sort of helter-skelter to distrust everybody, then learn from nobody?”
“I didn’t say we should distrust everybody,” Salima said, “and I didn’t say we should learn from nobody. I’m saying it’s impossible that the truth of Islam rests with a single person.”
“Except the Prophet, peace be upon him,” Larry added as he slid his keys off the table and walked to the front door and opened it.
“Well, with the Prophet, sallallaahu’alayhi wa sallam,” Salima said, “that’s a given.”
“But he’s no longer with us,” Larry said as he stepped outside then pulled the front door closed. “So what do we do now?” he said as he turned the key in the lock, holding his phone between his shoulder and ear.
“Don’t forget your du’aa,” Salima said.
“What?” Larry said, thrown off by her words.
“The du’aa for exiting the house,” she said.
“Oh…” Larry mentally scrambled for the words, the cold air stinging his face as he walked toward his car.
“Bismillaah,” Salima said, reciting the du’aa. “Tawakkaltu ‘alallah, wa laa hawla wa laa quwwata illaa billaah.”
“…illa billaah,” he repeated, stumbling over the words slightly.
There was a thoughtful pause. “But to answer your question,” Salima said. “You make every day a time for study, du’aa, and tawakkul.”
“You can’t do that with a single teacher?” Larry said, ducking his chin to protect his face from the cold.
“You can do it with a single teacher, or a zillion teachers,” Salima said simply. “How many teachers you have is irrelevant,” she explained. “The point is, every day your focus should be on carefully assessing whether or not you are living a life pleasing to Allah and in line with the teachings of the Prophet, sallallaahu’alayhi wa sallam.”
“And can’t a teacher help you do that?” Larry said as he pointed his keychain remote toward his car and unlocked it.
“Of course. You’re certainly not going to be able to do it on your own,” Salima said. “That’s why I say every day is a time for study,” she said, emphasizing the last word. “But studying with humans is useless if you’re not establishing a personal relationship with Allah separate from them.”
In the car, Larry pulled the phone away from his face and pressed the speakerphone icon then set the phone in the compartment next to him. “Makes sense to me,” he said as he put the key in the ignition and turned on the car. “But I have a hard time believing Jamil would disagree with you on that.”
He heard Salima sigh. “My question to him is, what’s so wrong with double checking what you’re learning?” she said. “Why can’t you talk to someone else to get another point of view, then pray Istikhaarah if you get confused?”
“What was his response?”
“If you commit to a single spiritual teacher, you won’t get confused,” Salima said, monotone.
“Okay,” Larry said, laughter in his voice as he connected the wire of his earphones to his mobile then pushed an earbud into one ear. “I give up. I have no more comforting words for you. Your brother has officially lost his mind.”
Salima laughed. “Thanks,” she said. “You’re no help.”
“I’m sorry, Salima,” Larry said, chuckling. “That’s some far out sh, stuff,” he quickly corrected himself. “You sure he graduated from law school? Because I can find a million holes in that logic.”
“He graduated from law school, all right,” she said, sadness in her words. “One of the top in his class. But I feel like people caught up in these groups pack away their brains when it comes to religion.”
Larry coughed, humor in that sound. “Man,” he said, returning to the topic of Jamil’s argument, “that’s like saying you’ll never feel lost as long as you keep your eyes closed during the entire journey.”
“Exactly,” Salima said. “And then when the train stops, you just hope you’re getting off at the right place.”
“I tell you what,” Larry said, glancing in the rearview mirror as he eased the car out of the parking space. “If I’m getting off at the wrong stop, it’s going to be because I fought like hell to get off at the right one,” he said with conviction, “not because I trusted some random person with a fancy name and title to get me where I needed while I slept the whole way.”
“Muslimah used to say a spiritual teacher is never random,” Salima said. “He’s specifically chosen by Allah to guide you.”
“So what do they say about all these different spiritual teachers teaching completely opposing and contradictory ideas?”
“That’s exactly what I would ask her.”
Larry smirked as he glanced down to shift the car from reverse to drive. “I think I’m afraid to ask what her answer was.”
Salima chuckled. “That’s why you have to find the one whom Allah sent especially for you,” she answered.
“What?” Larry laughed out loud and smacked the steering wheel. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No joke.”
“And what about avoiding Hellfire?” Larry asked.
“A true spiritual guide will never lead you to Hellfire,” Salima recited monotone.
Larry was quiet momentarily as fear gripped him at the thought of going astray after Allah had guided him from disbelief to Islam. “Salima,” he said quietly, “let’s make a vow to never do that to each other.”
“May Allah protect us.”
“I mean, let’s actually put it in writing.”
There was a thoughtful pause. “I have no problem with that,” she said.
“I just…” He sighed and pursed his lips as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I just don’t want to be so scared to face Allah alone that I put the responsibility of my soul on someone else.”
Salima was quiet momentarily. “I agree,” she said. “But I do understand the temptation.”
“I think we all do,” Larry said. “That’s why groups like this are so popular.” He grunted. “In every religion.”
Salima sighed. “I know…”
“I’m not going to lie.” There was sad humor in Larry’s tone. “Believing Jesus died for my sins felt really good.”
Salima coughed laugher. “I can imagine.”
“So I see where it can be addicting,” Larry said, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he looked at the road in front of him. “It’s terrifying reading all that stuff about the punishment of the grave and the torment of Hellfire.”
“Waqinaa ‘adhaab al-qabr,” Salima said. “Waqinaa ‘adhaab an-naar.”
“Ameen,” Larry said, recognizing Salima’s words as a supplication asking for protection for the dual torment of the grave and the Fire.
They were lost in thought for some time.
“But how would we word it?” Larry said.
“You mean the vow in our marriage contract?” Salima said.
“Yes.”
She was quiet for some time. “Maybe we can say that we agree to establish our marriage on the clear, undisputed foundational principles of the Qur’an and Sunnah,” she suggested. “And that any issue that is subject to differences of opinions amongst scholars and schools of thought, we will study the proofs for all of them, then make Istikhaarah before following any one.”
Larry nodded. “I like that, mashaAllah,” he said. “And can we add that we’ll never try to force each other to follow any human being completely except the Prophet, peace be upon him.”
“Agreed,” Salima said.
“And that we agree to never give complete allegiance to any ideology or group,” he added, “except to Islam itself and to all our Muslim brothers and sisters?”
“And that we commit fully to following the truth,” she added, “no matter where or from whom we learn it. And that we stay away from falsehood, no matter where we hear it or who teaches it.”
Larry grinned, feeling pleased with the blessing that Allah was bestowing on him in his soon-to-be wife. “Can I add one more thing?” Larry said.
“Of course.”
“That you teach me Qur’an every day,” he said, “even it’s only for five minutes.”
“No problem,” Salima said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “I like that idea, mashaAllah.”
“With meaning and reflection,” Larry added. “I don’t want to just memorize the words.”
He heard Salima laugh. “With all this,” she said, “I’m not sure I’ll even need a mahr. Marrying you is my marriage gift, mashaAllah.”
The grin on Larry’s face spread wide. “And marrying you is my life gift,” he said. “And I’ll be honored to give you any mahr you desire, no matter how much it costs. Because marrying you is worth more than any dowry I could buy.”
***
Jacob was standing in the hall outside the masjid prayer area overseeing the setup of the tables when he felt a buzzing in his pocket and heard a distant chiming sound. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone and saw a text message alert from Deanna. He groaned internally before unlocking his phone. I need to change this passcode, he thought to himself as he used his index finger to key in 0419.
We need to talk, her text message said. It’s really important. I’m outside.
Jacob’s first instinct was to ignore it. Deanna had a propensity for being dramatic, and Jacob wasn’t in the mood for any Deanna drama right then. Guests would be arriving in about twenty minutes, and he and the brothers were already behind in getting everything set up. But he was relieved that at least Aliyah had a ride now. Aliyah was at her apartment with Ibrahim, Younus, and Thawab and had planned to drive to the masjid, but after he asked that she didn’t, she’d texted to tell him that Salima agreed to pick her up.
I’m inside, he texted back. He was aggravated at the disruption, but he couldn’t be sure that Deanna’s concerns weren’t related to the waleemah preparation since she had appointed herself as the event planner for the women’s side.
Can you just come outside? I’m in my car.
Jacob clenched his jaw as he sent his reply. No. I’m busy setting up. Less than three seconds after he sent the message his phone rang, and he saw Deanna’s name on the screen.
“What is it?” he said, speaking through gritted teeth as he put the phone to his ear.
“We need...” She sniffed. “…to talk.” She sounded breathless, as if she’d been crying, but her voice was stern in insistence.
“Then talk,” Jacob said. “I can’t come outside.”
He heard her huff in annoyance. “Can’t you just give me two minutes?”
“I don’t have two minutes, Deanna.”
He heard her sniffling. “I gave you twelve years of my life,” Deanna said, bitterness in her tone. “The least you can do is give me two stupid minutes.”
He drew in a deep breath and exhaled, shaking his head as he turned his back to the brothers setting up the tables. This is what he’d feared when Deanna had volunteered to help. It seemed that nothing could go well with her except that she’d personally dismantle every single good she’d done. Everything with her was about keeping score instead of earning blessings.
“Not on the night of my waleemah,” he said, unmoved. “So if what you say can’t be said on the phone, then we’ll have to talk another time.”
The other line was silent for some time. “I’m going home, Jacob,” she said finally. “I’m not staying for the waleemah.”
Jacob heaved a sigh of relief, but he was careful to keep the relief out of his voice. “Why?” he said in obligatory annoyance. “Aren’t you supposed to be setting up downstairs?”
“Juwayriah and Nikki are taking care of everything.”
“Well, we appreciate everything you’ve done so far,” Jacob said. “So jazaakillaahukhairan.”
Deanna was silent for several seconds, and Jacob sensed she wasn’t finished. “And I want you to know I’m fine with you and Aliyah,” she said.
Jacob drew his eyebrows together, uncomfortable with Deanna’s uncharacteristic kindness. “Well… thank you. I’m happy to hear that.”
“So I want you to think about us.”
Jacob’s lips formed a thin line of annoyance. He should’ve known there was a caveat.
“And before you say anything,” Deanna said, raising her voice, as if anticipating a refusal. “Just consider it, okay? I’m fine with being your second wife, even if we don’t tell everybody just yet,” she said. “You know, just like how you did with Aliyah.”
Jacob’s nose flared as he tucked in his lower lip to keep from speaking before he could calm the fury building inside him.
“Remember how you used to say men are the maintainers and protectors of all women?”
“Allah said that,” he said with disinterest.
“Well, I…”
“Deanna, look,” he said, unable to keep quiet any longer. “Let me just cut to the chase. I’m not going to marry you as a second, third, or even fourth wife.” He huffed. “And even if a sheikh were to give a fatwa that the women whom our right hands possess could be anyone we chose,” he said, “I would never choose you.”
There was a voice inside Jacob’s head telling him he was going too far. But in that moment, he was so infuriated with all he’d put up with that he wanted her games to end, once and for all. That she had the nerve to insert herself into his and Aliyah’s life under the guise of supporting them only to try to snare him on the night of his waleemah was even more enraging. It wasn’t enough that she practically stalked and trapped him before marriage, slandered the woman he wanted to marry, then made his life a living hell once she got him. Now she had to play the damsel in distress, trying to appeal to his Muslim male honor.
No more, he said to himself, just as he had after she’d slapped him for speaking his mind during their joint interview.
“I’m not asking for equal time,” Deanna muttered angrily. “So what’s the problem?”
“The problem?” Jacob said, lowering his voice out of fear he would start yelling. “What’s not the problem, Deanna? Let’s start there.”
“We have two boys, and—”
“And?” he interjected challengingly.
“—the least we can do is stay together for them.”
“Now you’re trying to guilt-trip me?” He would have laughed if she weren’t serious. “I don’t believe in putting on faces for the world, Deanna. Been there, done that,” he said. “Once upon a time I was stupid enough to believe that a miserable, destructive marriage was better than any type of divorce.” He grunted. “For me and my children.”
“But Shaytaan loves d—”
“But Shaytaan?” he interjected, before she could finish her sentence, humored disbelief in his tone. “Are you seriously going to sit here and tell me about what the chief devil likes?” He coughed laughter. “Let me tell you a little secret about our friend Iblis, Deanna,” he said sarcastically. “Yes, he loves divorce. He loves destroying marriages and families and all that other stuff you learned at Sunday school.” He paused then added, “In church and in the masjid.” He huffed. “But you know what he loves to destroy more than all of that?”
Deanna was silent.
“Our souls,” Jacob said. “You hear that? Our souls.” He exhaled in annoyance and shook his head. “And being married to you was destroying my soul.” He was quiet for several seconds as he let that sink in. “So if you can show me any verse in the Qur’an or hadith from the Prophet, sallallaahu’alayhi wa sallam, that says saving a marriage is more important than saving my soul, then I’m all yours.”
Deanna was still silent.
“But for now, I have a marriage to celebrate,” Jacob said, a taunt in his voice. “As-salaamu’alaikum,” he said, disconnecting the call without even waiting for a reply.
***
“You sure I look okay?” Aliyah said, a lopsided smile on her face as she glanced down at herself uncertainly, pearl teardrops dangling from her ears. She was wearing a fitted cream sleeveless gown with pearl beading on the bodice and a matching short jacket that stopped just above her waist. Flat twists lay against the front of her head, and the back of her hair was swept up in pearl-beaded clip.
“You look amazing, mashaAllah,” Salima said, grinning proudly at Aliyah from where she stood next to her in the women’s bathroom across from the dining hall.
“Who’s all here?” Aliyah said nervously.
“Everyone,” Salima said. “Reem, Mashael, Nikki, Juway—”
“Reem and Mashael?” Aliyah said, excitement in her voice.
“Yes,” Salima nodded. “Though I don’t think Reem expected to see Mashael here.”
“Oh, mashaAllah.” Aliyah’s heart raced, as she could hardly contain how ecstatic she felt. “I’m so happy they reconciled.”
Aliyah shook her head then grabbed Salima’s hands. “Can you believe it?” she said. “Everybody here to celebrate my marriage.” She grinned. “To Jacob!”
“Well, Allah has certainly blessed you,” Salima said. “MashaAllah. I would’ve never imagined things would turn out like this.”
A sad smile lingered on Aliyah’s face, and her eyes glistened as she let go of Salima’s hands. “May Allah bless Deanna, truly,” Aliyah said with a sigh. “I think with all she’s done to help with my waleemah, I’m not upset with her anymore.”
Salima nodded. “That’s good, mashaAllah. I’m really happy for the both of you.”
“I’ll have to make sure I thank her personally,” Aliyah said. “I mean, in front of everyone.”
“I think she stepped out though…” Salima said, uncertainty in her tone. “When I was looking for her, Juwayriah said she had to run home or something.”
Aliyah waved her hand dismissively. “That’s fine. She probably just went home to change clothes,” she said. “After all that setting up, she probably was sweaty.”
“Probably,” Salima agreed. “And you know Deanna has to look just right.”
There was an extended silence as Aliyah smiled knowingly at Salima.
“What?” Salima said, laughter in her voice.
“So when’s the big day for you and Larry?”
“Oh no,” Salima said, chuckling and shaking her head as she grabbed Aliyah’s hand and started for the exit. “Today is all about you.”
“But aren’t you two driving up to talk to your parents next weekend?” Aliyah said.
Salima laughed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she sang out as she guided Aliyah out the door.
A minute later, when Aliyah walked into the dining hall, the noise level rose as the sound of the daff filled the room, as did the ululating of several women. Aliyah laughed and danced along with the women, her cheeks hurting from how widely she was smiling from how happy she felt.