what she had done wrong to provoke Adam’s beatings. She wondered if he would divorce her.
“Poor, poor Umm Ahmed,” Fareeda said into the phone. “Having to look people in the eye after her daughter’s divorce.” But she was smirking so broadly that her gold tooth glowed like the moon. Isra didn’t understand—Umm Ahmed was Fareeda’s closest friend. There was no reason to be happy. Only hadn’t she prayed Nadine would have a girl just to ease her own suffering? She felt her heart squeeze tight.
“This will be good for you, daughter,” Fareeda told Sarah when she hung up the phone. “If Fatima gets divorced, no one will marry her sister, Hannah.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Sarah said.
“It has everything to do with you! Think of how much easier it will be for you to find a suitor with Hannah out of the way.” She stood up, tasting a pinch of the rice stuffing to make sure it was seasoned properly. “There are hardly enough Palestinian men in Brooklyn as it is. The less competition, the better.” She met Isra’s eyes. “Aren’t I right?”
Isra nodded, placing a mixture of rice and meat in the center of a cabbage leaf. She could see Fareeda eyeing her, so she made sure to roll the leaf into a perfect fingerlike roll.
“Not that there’s much competition between you girls, anyway,” Fareeda said, licking her fingers. “Have you seen Hannah’s dark skin and course hair? And the girl is barely five feet tall. You’re much prettier.”
Sarah stood and carried a stack of dirty plates to the sink, her face noticeably redder. Isra wondered what she was thinking. She thought back to when Mama used to compare her to other girls, saying she was nothing but stick and bones, that no man would want to marry her. She’d tell Isra to eat more, and when she gained weight, she’d tell her to eat less, and when she went outside, she’d tell her to stay out of the sun so her skin wouldn’t get dark. Mama had looked at her so often then, scanning her from head to toe to ensure she was in good condition. To ensure that a man would find her worthy. Isra wondered if Sarah felt now as she’d felt then, like she was the most worthless thing on earth. She wondered if her daughters would feel the same way.
“Maybe now is your chance,” Fareeda said, following Sarah to the sink.
Sarah did not reply. She grabbed a sponge and turned on the faucet, her tiny frame lost beneath a blue turtleneck sweater and loose corduroy pants. She had worn those clothes to school, and Isra wondered if her classmates dressed in the same way, or if they wore tight-fitted, revealing clothes like the girls on television. More than once, she had overheard Sarah beg her mother for trendier outfits, but Fareeda would always shout, “You’re not an American!” as if Sarah had somehow forgotten.
“Well, don’t be so excited,” said Fareeda. Sarah shrugged. “You’re fifteen now. Marriage is around the corner. You need to start preparing.”
“And what if I don’t want to get married?” Sarah’s angry voice was like a gunshot in the room.
Fareeda glared at her. “Excuse me?”
Sarah turned off the faucet and met her mother’s eyes. “Why are you so eager to marry me off?”
“I’m not asking you to get married tomorrow. We can wait until after high school.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I don’t want to get married after high school.”
“What do you mean, you don’t want to get married? What else are you going to do, you foolish girl?”
“I’m going to go to college.”
“College? Do you think your father and I will let you leave the house alone so you can turn into an American?”
“It isn’t like that. Everyone goes to college here!”
“Oh, yeah? And what do you suppose everyone back home will think when they find out our daughter is roaming the streets of New York alone? Think of our reputation.”
“Reputation? Why don’t my brothers have to worry about our reputation? No one prevents Omar and Ali from roaming the streets alone, doing as they please. Baba had to practically beg Ali to go to college!”
“You can’t compare yourself to your brothers,” Fareeda said. “You’re not a man.”
“That’s what you always say, but it’s not fair!”
“Fair or not, no girl of mine is going to college. Fahmeh?” She moved closer, her open palm twitching. “Do you understand me?
Sarah took a step back. “Yes, Mama.”
“Instead of worrying about college, why don’t you learn