Page 121 - A Woman Is No Man

“He’s right,” Khaled said, reaching for a drumstick. “You are spoiling
them.”
Fareeda straightened. “So now it’s my fault? Of course, blame it on the

woman!” Her eyes shifted to Khaled. “Let’s not forget who the real
backbone of this family is.”
Khaled shot her a hard look. “What are you saying, woman?”
She could see Nadine eyeing her from across the table, so she refrained
from saying what she would have usually said, reminding Khaled of all she
had done for their family.
Though more than thirty years had passed since Khaled and Fareeda

married, she still remembered those early days with resentment: the many
ways he had hurt and disappointed her, his sudden and immense anger, the
violence. She had been so young, less than half his age, and in the first days
of their marriage she had always reminded herself of her subordinate role,
submitting to his temperament for fear of being beaten. But no matter how
quiet she was, how hard she tried to please, many nights ended with a

beating. Of course her father had beaten her growing up, but it was nothing
like this: beatings that left her face black and blue, her ribs so sore they
ached when she breathed, an arm so badly sprained she couldn’t carry water
for weeks.
Then one night a neighbor told her that Khaled was an alcoholic, that he
purchased a liter of whiskey most mornings from the corner dukan, and that
he sipped on the bottle until he got home. Each liter cost fifteen shekels,

almost half of Khaled’s daily earnings. Something inside Fareeda had
snapped. A liter of whiskey a day! Fifteen shekels! And after everything she
had done for him, scraping to feed their children in the refugee camp,
slaving in the fields, bearing him sons, even . . . She stopped, trembling at
the memory. No. Enough was enough.
“I won’t allow you to spend our hard-earned money on sharaab,”

Fareeda had told Khaled that night, her eyes so wide she knew she must
have looked possessed. He wouldn’t look at her, but she stared him down.
“I’ve endured many things for your sake”—her voice quivered—“but I
won’t endure this. From now on, I want to know what you do with our
money.”
The next thing she knew, Khaled had slapped her. “Who do you think
you are talking to me like that?”