Page 172 - A Woman Is No Man

spend his days after school reading the Holy Qur’an. He’d wanted to be an
imam, he’d told her. But he was forced to leave that dream behind when
they went to America. What was she supposed to do? He was the eldest

son, and they needed him. They’d all left things behind.
She turned to Ali. “So what do you want to do now?”
He shrugged. “Work, I guess.”
“Why don’t you work in the deli?” She turned to Khaled. “Can’t you
hire him?”
Khaled shook his head, looking at her like she was an idiot. “The deli
barely brings in enough money to pay the bills. Don’t you see all the work

Adam does just to keep it running? Why do you think I want Ali to go to
college?” He waved his hands. “So he isn’t stuck behind a cash register like
we are. Don’t you understand a thing, woman?”
“I don’t know,” Fareeda mocked. “Do I? The last time I checked, I’m
the reason we made it to America in the first place.”
Khaled said nothing. It was true. If it hadn’t been for Fareeda, if she

hadn’t forced Khaled to give her his daily earnings, they never would’ve
made it to America in 1976, or likely ever. It was Fareeda who had saved
enough money for them to purchase their plane tickets to New York, and
later, she who had saved Khaled’s earnings at his first job, an electronics
store on Flatbush Avenue, in a navy-blue shoe box under her bed. She who
had become ever more resourceful, limiting the amount of money she spent
on food and household items, washing her children’s clothes daily so they

didn’t need more than two outfits each, even baking ma’amool cookies for
Khaled to sell his customers, who were enthralled by the foreign
combination of figs and butterbread. Soon she had saved ten thousand
dollars in the navy-blue shoe box stuffed beneath their bed, which Khaled
had used to open his deli.
Fareeda took a sip of her chai, looking away from Khaled. “The boy

wants to work, so let him work,” she said. “Maybe I’ll ask Adam to give
him a job in his store.”
Ali jumped in. “What about Omar’s store?”
“What about it?”
“Maybe I can work there instead?”
“No, no, no,” Fareeda said, reaching for another loaf of pita. “Omar is
still getting on his feet. He can’t afford to hire anyone right now. Adam has

a steady business going. He’ll hire you.”