Page 161 - A Woman Is No Man

“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