Page 148 - A Woman Is No Man

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 . . .” Her

words faded.
“Found out what?”
Sarah looked down at her fingers. “I don’t know how to say this. I’m
worried you’ll think less of me.”
“It’s okay. You can tell me.” Deya could see hesitation in her aunt’s face
as she turned toward the window.
“I had a boyfriend,” Sarah finally said.

“A boyfriend? Is that why you ran away?”
“No, not exactly.”
“Then why?”
Sarah stared out the window.
“Come on, tell me.”

She drew a breath and started again. “The truth is, I wasn’t a virgin.”
Deya stared at her with wide eyes. “In Teta’s house? How . . . how
could you?” Sarah’s face grew red, and she looked away. “I’m sorry—I’m