Chapter 29

Alison exited I-5, drove along 45th Street, and crossed University Way, past the Burke Museum of Natural History and Culture on her right and the fraternities and sororities on her left. Her destination was beyond the U Village Shopping Center, the far corner of campus.

The December before, Alison had, without telling anyone—not even Khalid—submitted her application for the University of Washington Middle Eastern Studies Program. A fantasy, a lark, totally pointless—she had thought at the time. Still, she had done it.

But now she had an appointment with family student housing to see a two-bedroom apartment. Alison parked, got out, and approached the office. Inside, Alison told an older woman working there who she was. After checking the files, the woman grabbed a chain rattling with keys. “Please come.”

Alison followed her out of the office, down a tree-lined path toward a housing cluster. The three-story apartment buildings ahead were not that different from the suburban Pine View apartments where Alison had lived for more than a year. Still, a tingle rose up her back, a little thrill at the idea of what lie ahead.

Three months earlier, her graduate school acceptance letter had arrived—the week after Khalid had bolted from her life. Like a gift, the letter appeared—a promise of a new life. Alison immediately accepted the offer and, the same day, applied for family housing and on-campus childcare.

“The playground is over there.” The woman pointed through trees to a grouping of playground equipment. “Do you have kids?”

“A daughter,” Alison said. “Almost eight months.”

The woman turned to Alison. “Sweet.”

“She’s at a fun age,” Alison said. Then a spark of panic shot up, and she blurted, “I don’t know how I’m going to do graduate school with a toddler!”

“People do it all the time.” The woman stopped at a building and walked up the stairs. “I’ll show you a two-bedroom model. It’s already furnished to give an idea of the place.” The woman pulled out her keys and stopped before one of the front doors. “Remind me. How many people will be living in the unit?”

“Just me and my daughter.”

“You’ll have plenty of space then.” She unlocked the door and gestured Alison in. “In this model you’ve got two bedrooms, kitchen, living area, one bath, and a utility closet.”

Alison stepped into the center of the living room and slowly turned around. The generic yet cheery display furniture filled the space. She imagined herself studying at the dining room table at night, under the beam of the light fixture, books on Ottoman history and the Arab-Israeli conflict spread out before her, the baby monitor next to her, and Eman sleeping in her room nearby.

Then another image: Eman awake and needing attention, Eman awake and crying. Being a single mother had proven more grueling than expected. Alison dreaded the long stretch of the week, taking Eman to the doctor alone, making decisions by herself, and the worst part— having no one with whom to experience Eman’s milestones, like crawling and sitting up for the first time.

And yet Alison had managed so far. What other choice did she have? She and Eman were plodding along. But this was easy part. No work or study. What would the next two years look like? Alison still couldn’t quite picture how she would shoulder both classes and parenting. Of course, she still had time to change her mind.

After the walk-through, the woman gave Alison information on move-in dates and the children’s center, which would provide full-day care for Eman. Alison thanked her, and before driving home, she decided to walk to the hall where her classes would be held.

The walk was invigorating, past sports fields, over a bridge, and into the university grounds. The late summer day was mild, the air fresh. She inhaled and took in the familiar brick buildings washed in warm sunlight. The campus glittered with possibility, and her thoughts raced with images of her future: academia, research, a life of scholarly studies. Somehow this excited her more than anything else had, including travel, marriage, having a child, and even falling in love.

Whenever she looked back, Alison remembered their fights first. Khalid refusing to listen, she hoarse from yelling, he storming out of the house, and she home alone. Occasionally, a happy time came to mind, and finally those qualities that had drawn her to Khalid: his good looks, his family background, his seductive manner. She had not merely been attracted to him. She had been possessed by him.

Alison reached the hall where she would spend most of her time over the next two years. She looked up at its arches, bricks, and engravings, and she felt suddenly small. How was she going to pull this off?

Later, as Alison drove northward back home, her thoughts turned to the past months, all that had happened, and how people had surprised her. Some of Alison’s old college friends, abandoned for Khalid, were now back in her life. Khalid’s mother, whom Alison sometimes saw with Khalid, was still surprisingly kind to her, calling Alison habibti and patting her hand.

Her own mother had seemed genuinely relieved when Alison announced she would be working on a master’s degree in Middle Eastern studies.

“Of course,” her mother had replied. “It’s meant to be.”

Her parents had offered to pay her tuition. Even Grandma Helen offered a financial gift. And with a few student loans and support from Khalid, Alison and Eman would be set for the next two years. Khalid continued to surprise her in small ways, too.

She neared home, and her thoughts jumped ahead to him and the trajectory of their marriage, how they couldn’t sustain what they had started. For months after he left, Alison had tried to unravel the question of where things had gone wrong.

Beyond the Pine View sign, the rows of apartment buildings spread before her.

She pulled into her parking space, ascended the stairs, and opened the front door. On the floor sat Khalid, who had left work early that day to cover for Alison. Eman sat across from him, toys spread out between them. Eman was laughing hysterically at some voice Khalid was making. When Alison entered, the two of them looked up.

“Hi,” Khalid said. “She’s really sitting up by herself now.”

“I know.” Alison reached down and caressed Eman’s chubby cheek. “Did you have fun with Baba?”

“She said baba so many times,” Khalid said, “and she knows her own name.”

“How did she do?” Alison asked.

“She was crawling around; I had to watch her every second. She ate half a banana and a bit of rice with yogurt.”

Alison collapsed onto the couch.

“How was the apartment?” he asked as he got up from the floor.

“A bit old, but I like the children’s center—Montessori.”

Khalid sat down next to her. “That’s supposed to be good, right?”

“Very good. But it’s going to be so hard to leave her there.”

“She’ll be fine,” he said with firm confidence.

She folded her arms across her chest. “Honestly, I’m starting to feel freaked out by the whole thing.”

“You’ll do it,” he said. A calm smile spread over Khalid’s handsome face, and Alison experienced a splintering of pain and affection for him. They had never talked about Alison’s ugly meltdown outside the apartment building—or any of their past fights. No discussion, no apologies. What brought Khalid around was Ahmed, who served as mediator. And then Eman; he couldn’t stay away from his daughter for long. With Ahmed’s help, they had agreed upon a parenting schedule and financial arrangements.

“When exactly do you move?” he asked.

“Supposed to be middle of next month. Before fall quarter begins.” She spoke in a detached manner despite her burst of tenderness for him. She looked away and then down at Eman, babbling to herself.

Alison blinked. She had a beautiful daughter, masha’Allah, and she had learned something about herself: her passion for the Middle East was best sated through study and travel—not love. But what about Khalid? What had drawn him to her? Had it been love?

Alison now understood what drove Khalid. Over the past months, the signs from their early relationship shifted into focus: Khalid sleeping over, his sudden proposal, and the lies about Eman’s due date. It all pointed to guilt. Guilt over premarital sex.

And what about her? Yes, there had been love, but fear had pushed her headlong into marriage—fear he’d choose another, maybe a Palestinian girl his mother had picked.

Khalid picked up Eman and bounced her on his knee, causing a cascade of giggles. “Are your parents still planning to come out?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t be able to move without them.”

“As soon as you get your stuff cleared out,” he said. “I’ll move back in the following weekend. I’m sure Ibrahim and Salim will be happy to be rid of me.”

“I don’t blame them.” She tilted her head. “It’ll be better this way—easier when we each have space for Eman.”

“Inshallah,” he answered.

“When are you leaving for Jordan?” she asked.

“In two weeks.”

“Your mother must be thrilled.”

“She’s happy,” he said. “But I really want to bring Eman with me. Everyone wants to meet her. There’s still time to add her to my ticket.”

“I already told you—she’s never been away from me for that long.” Alison’s shoulders dropped. “It will be too hard on her—and you, too. Besides, Jordan’s not exactly the safest country for small children.”

“I’ll keep her safe.”

“How?” Alison asked. “I saw Fatma’s house, and most cars don’t even have seat belts.”

“I think I’ve proven myself,” Khalid said. “I can keep her safe.”

Alison brought a hand to her forehead. “Have you forgotten I’m still breast-feeding?”

“Maybe you can use that pump thing?”

“You’re kidding, right? Pumping for ten days while she’s passed around Jordan, exposed to God-knows-what. We’ve already discussed this!”

“But they really want to see her.”

“I don’t care!” Alison threw up her hands, exasperated once again. “It’s not the time!” She shook her head, freshly confirming to herself that she was never meant to be with Khalid, that she would never go back to him. “Look, maybe one day I’ll travel there,” she said, “and bring her along. Then everyone can meet her.”

Khalid rolled his eyes. “That’s crazy.”

“Why? Why is that crazy?” When he didn’t reply, she said, “I think you’d better go.”

“Fine.” He got up from the couch and gave Eman one last hug. “See you this weekend, habibti.” He passed her to Alison and walked to the door. “If she needs anything, let me know.”

“Thanks,” Alison said without looking up.

With that, he was gone.