man, just to see how it feels. It would’ve spared me a lot of grief in life.” She reached for another pair of socks, stopped, and looked at Isra. “Men huff and puff about all the work they do to support their families. But they don’t know—” She paused. “They have no idea what it means to be a woman in this world.”
“You sound like Mama.”
“She’s a woman, isn’t she? She would know.”
There was a pause, and Isra reached for a piece of laundry. She wondered how Mama and Fareeda had come to suffer the same lonely fate, to have both lived a life without love. What had they done wrong?
“I thought things would be different here,” Isra confessed.
Fareeda looked up. “Different how?”
“I thought maybe women only had it so tough in Palestine, you know, because of old customs and traditions.”
“Ha!” Fareeda said. “You think women have it easier in America because of what you see on television?” Her almond eyes narrowed to slits. “Let me tell you something. A man is the only way up in this world, even though he’ll climb a woman’s back to get there. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“But Khaled seems like he loves you so much,” Isra said.
“Loves me?” Fareeda laughed. “Look at all I do for that man! I spread a full sufra for him every day, wash and iron his clothes, scrub every inch of this house so he can be at ease. I raised his children, these men and this girl, all while he was away. And you say he loves me?” Her eyes shifted to Isra. “Learn this now, dear. If you live your life waiting for a man’s love, you’ll be disappointed.”
Isra felt sorry for Fareeda. How tired she must have been raising her children alone in a foreign country, waiting for Khaled to come home and love her. She wondered if that would be her fate as well.
“Do all the men in America work this much?” she asked, folding a white T-shirt.
“I used to wonder the same thing when we first came here,” said Fareeda. “Khaled worked so many hours a day, leaving me alone with the children, sometimes until midnight! I was angry with him at first, but I realized it wasn’t his fault. Most immigrants in this country work like dogs, especially the men. They have no choice. How else can we survive?”
Isra stared at her. Surely Adam was different, not like the men of Khaled and Yacob’s generation. Things were hard right now, yes, but soon that would change. “Will Adam always work this much?”
“Oh, you’ll get used to it,” Fareeda said. “Soon you’ll have children, and there will be other things to worry about.” When Isra only looked at her, eyes widening, she added. “Believe me, you’ll be thankful he’s at work and not at home telling you what to do. I want to rip my hair out when Khaled takes a day off. Do this, do that. It’s a nightmare.”
But that’s not the kind of relationship Isra wanted: she didn’t want to be like Mama or Fareeda. She knew things were hard now because they barely knew each other. But surely everything would change when they became parents. Adam would have a reason to come home then. He would want to see his children, hold them, raise them. He would have a reason to love her. She turned to Fareeda. “But Adam will be home more when I bear children, right?”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” said Fareeda, her legs unfolding and then folding again. “Don’t be a fool. Have you ever seen a man stay home to help raise children? That’s your job, dear.”
For a moment, Isra could hear Mama’s voice in her head, mocking as she hunched over the stove. Palestine or America. A woman will always be alone. Had Mama been right all along? No, Isra told herself. That couldn’t be true. She just needed to earn Adam’s love.
Deya
Winter 2008
The days after reading Isra’s letter felt muddled. Deya couldn’t stop thinking. Could she have misjudged her mother? Could she have remembered her incorrectly? It was possible. What if her mother had been possessed by a jinn? That would explain why she had always been so sad, not because her marriage was unhappy or because she didn’t want to be a mother, or worse, because she didn’t want her. Still, Deya wasn’t convinced. The jinn sounded like something from a fantasy novel—curses and exorcisms didn’t happen in real life. Yet her mind