walking down the hall and into the sala. Trembling, she set a tray of Turkish coffee on the table.
“Alf mabrouk,” Isra said, remembering to smile. “Congratulations.” The voice she heard was not her own. It belonged to a stronger woman.
Fareeda’s gold tooth sparkled as she held the receiver to her ear. Beside her, Adam sat perfectly still. He inhaled a long puff of smoke and released it into the air. Isra moved closer to him, hoping he would say something to her, but he just sucked in the smoke and exhaled. She had become accustomed to the silence between them, had learned to shrink herself in his presence so as not to upset him the same way she had with Yacob growing up. It was better that way. But Isra worried no amount of shrinking would prevent Adam’s anger now. He was the eldest; he was expected to have the first grandson. But now he hadn’t, and it was all her fault.
He turned to Fareeda. “Alf mabrouk, Mother.”
“Thank you, son. Inshallah your turn soon.”
Adam smiled but said nothing. He leaned into the sofa, closed his eyes, inhaled another puff of smoke. Isra fixated on the long, sleek hookah rope in his hands, the shiny silver tip clutched between his lips. Every time he let out a rush of smoke, the room fogged, and she disappeared from sight. Standing there, she wished she could disappear like that forever.
That night, Adam entered their bedroom without saying a word. He shook his head, mumbling something under his breath, and all Isra could think was how slender he looked standing there, thinner than she had ever seen him. His fingers appeared longer, pointier than usual, and it seemed as though the veins on his hands had either multiplied or become engorged. He moved closer to her, lifting his eyes to meet hers. It gave her a strange feeling.
“Is there anything I can do?” she asked in a low voice. Her compliance eased her on days like this, when she felt as though she was useless. If she couldn’t give him a son, the least she could do was be a good wife and please him.
He stared at her. She looked away. She knew that if he looked at her too closely, the thoughts—fear, anger, defiance, loneliness, confusion, helplessness—would burst from her and the tears would rush out of her eyes and she’d collapse right there in front of him. And Isra couldn’t have that. It was one thing to think, another thing entirely to speak your mind.
“I’m sorry,” Isra whispered. Adam continued to stare. The look in his eyes was unsteady, like he was under a spell and trying hard to focus. He took a few steps closer, and she took a few steps back into the corner of the room, trying not to flinch. He hated when she flinched. She wondered if Nadine flinched when Omar touched her. But Nadine was different, she thought. She must have been loved in her life that she knew how to love and be loved in return.
Adam reached out to touch her. He traced the outline of her face, almost as if daring her to move. But she kept still. She closed her eyes, waited for him to stop, to step away and go to bed. But then, all at once, it came.
He slapped her.
What terrified Isra most was not the force of his palm against her face. It was the voice inside her head telling her to be still—not the stillness itself, but the ease of it, how naturally it came to her.
Deya
Winter 2008
I still can’t believe you ran away,” Deya told Sarah the next day at the bookstore. Upon emerging from the subway at Union Square, she had taken off her hijab and tucked it in her backpack, felt the cool breeze run through her hair, the winter sun on her skin. “You left everything you knew. I wish I was brave like you.”
“I’m not as brave as you think,” Sarah said.
Deya studied her aunt from across the small table. Sarah wore a flowered miniskirt with thin stockings, long black boots, and a fitted cream blouse. Her hair was wrapped in a loose bun. “Yes, you are,” Deya said. “I could never run away. I’d be terrified out here alone.” She met Sarah’s eyes. “How did you leave? Weren’t you afraid?”
“Of course I was afraid. But I was more afraid of staying.”
“Why?”
“I was afraid of what my parents would do if they found out .