Page 124 - A Woman Is No Man

Isra

Winter 1991

It was a girl.

The delivery room was quiet, and Isra lay beneath the thin hospital
sheet, cold and bare, staring at the midnight December sky though the
window. She longed for company, but Adam had said he needed to return to
work. She had hoped that children would bring them closer, but they had
not. In fact, it seemed as if each pregnancy pushed him farther away, as if
the more her belly grew, the wider the space between them became.
She began to cry. What was it that moved her to tears? She wasn’t sure.

Was it that she had disappointed Adam once again? Or was it because she
couldn’t be happy as she looked at her newborn daughter?
She was still crying when Adam returned to visit her the next morning.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, startling her.
“Nothing,” Isra said. She sat up and wiped her face.
“Then why are you crying? Did my mother say something to upset

you?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
He took a brief look at the baby basket before walking toward the
window. Was Isra imagining, or had Adam’s eyes reddened over the years?
The thought that he was drinking sharaab crossed her mind again but she
dismissed it. Not Adam, the man who had once wanted to be a priest, who

had memorized the entire Qur’an. He would never commit haraam. He
must be tired or sick, or perhaps it was something she had done.
“I’m afraid that you’re upset with me,” Isra said in a soft voice. “For
having another daughter.”
He sighed irritably. “I’m not upset.”

“But you don’t seem happy.”
“Happy?” He met her eyes. “What’s there to be happy about?” Isra
stiffened. “All I do is work day and night like a donkey! ‘Do this, Adam!