A Woman Is No Man(73)

“Will you read to me?” Deya asked, looking at her with soft, wide eyes, her fingers clenched around her nightgown.

“Sure,” Isra said.

“Now?”

“I have to make dinner first.”

“But then you’re coming?”

“Then I’m coming.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay.” She let go of Isra’s nightgown, turned to leave.

“Wait,” Isra said.

“What, Mama?”

“You know I love you, right?”

Deya smiled.

“I love you very much.”





Deya


Winter 2008

Deya met Nora in their bedroom. She shut the door, locked it, and asked Nora to sit down. She handed her the newspaper clipping. Then she told her everything. For a long time after, they wept in each other’s arms.

“I just can’t believe it,” Nora said, staring down at the newspaper clipping. “Should we tell Layla and Amal?”

“Not yet,” Deya said. “First I have to confront Teta.”

“What are you going to say?”

“I’m going to make her tell me everything.”

“Then what?”

“Then we come up with a plan.”

“What kind of plan?” asked Nora.

“A plan to run away.”





Isra


Winter 1996

One Saturday morning, after Isra and Sarah had washed the morning dishes and retreated to the kitchen table with a steaming ibrik of chai, Fareeda entered the kitchen. “Pour me a cup,” she said.

At once, Isra grabbed a teacup from the cabinet. She had become so accustomed to following Fareeda’s demands that her body obeyed unthinkingly. As Isra presented the chai to her, Fareeda turned to Sarah. “Today is your lucky day,” she said.

“And why’s that?” Sarah asked.

“Because”—Fareeda paused, running her finger around the rim of her teacup—“I’ve found you a suitor.”

Isra felt something drain from her. She tried to keep from dropping her tea. How could she carry on without Sarah’s friendship? Without her books?

“Are you serious?” Sarah said, sinking into her chair.

“Of course I’m serious! He’ll be here this afternoon.”

“Who is he?”

“Umm Ali’s youngest son, Nader.” Fareeda’s smile was triumphant. “He was at the pharmacy last month. I pointed him out to you, remember?”

“No,” Sarah said. “Not that it makes a difference. I don’t know him.”

“Oh, don’t be so negative. You’ll get to know him soon enough.”

“Whatever.”

“Roll your eyes all you want,” Fareeda said. “But marriage is the single most important part of a woman’s life, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Can you believe the woman?” Sarah asked Isra when Fareeda had left the kitchen. She stared out the window, her brown eyes watering against the light.

“I’m so sorry,” Isra managed to say.

“I don’t understand why she insists on marrying me off so soon. For God’s sake, I haven’t even finished high school!”

Isra passed her a warm look. She understood why: Sarah had become increasingly rebellious over the years. She could imagine how worried Fareeda was, watching Sarah refuse to take part in any of the traditions, barely speaking Arabic anymore. Sometimes Isra watched Sarah from the window as she walked home from school, rushing to wipe her makeup off before she entered the house. Last month, when Sarah had handed her a copy of The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath, Isra had noticed a sleeveless top in her bag. She hadn’t mentioned it, and Sarah hadn’t either, stuffing the blouse deep beneath her books, but Isra wondered what else Sarah was hiding. She considered how she would feel if she was in Fareeda’s shoes. She didn’t know what lengths she would go to in order to keep her own daughters safe.

“I don’t want to get married. She can’t force me!”

“Lower your voice. She’ll hear you.”

“I don’t care if she hears me. This is America. She can’t force me to get married!”

“Yes, she can,” Isra whispered. “She’ll punish you if you defy her.”

“What could she possibly do? Beat me? I’ll take a beating daily if it means avoiding marriage.”

Isra shook her head. “Sarah, I don’t think you understand. It won’t be a single beating by Fareeda. Soon your father and brothers will start beating you, too. Then how long will you stand it?”

Sarah crossed her arms. “For as long as it takes.”

Isra examined her bright face and catlike eyes. She wished she could’ve had her strength as a girl. How different her life could have been had she only had courage. Sarah’s eyes narrowed further. “I refuse to have a life like yours.”

“And what kind of life is that?” Isra asked, though she already knew the answer.

“I’m not going to let anyone control me.”

“No one will control you,” Isra said, but her tone betrayed her.