Page 179 - A Woman Is No Man

many businesses can he run? How much can he help his brothers? How
many male heirs can he produce?” He paused, looking at Isra. “But
happiness? There’s no such thing as happiness for people like us. Family

duty comes first.”
“But I care what makes you happy,” Isra said.
He shook his head. “Why should you care? I haven’t been good to you.”
“Still,” she said, her voice low and soft. “I know what you’re going
through. I know you’re under a lot of pressure, too. I can understand how
that can make you act—” She stopped, looked away.
“Walking the Brooklyn Bridge at dawn,” Adam said. Isra turned back to

him to find his face had softened. “Some early mornings on my way to
work, I don’t take the train straight into the city. Instead I stop to walk the
bridge in time for sunrise.” His words slipped out as though he had
forgotten Isra was in the room. “There’s something magical about watching
the sunrise when I’m so high up there. In that moment, when the first light
hits my face, I feel like the sun has swallowed me up. Everything goes

quiet. The cars rush beneath my feet, but I don’t hear a thing. I can see the
whole city, and I think about the millions of people living here, the
struggles they face, and then I think about the men back home and their
struggles, too, and in an instant my worries vanish. I stare at the sky and
remind myself that at least I am here, in this beautiful country, at least I
have this view.”
“You never told me that before,” Isra whispered. He nodded but averted

his gaze, as though he had said too much. “It sounds lovely,” she said,
smiling at him. “It reminds me of when I used to watch the sunset back
home, how the sun would sink into the mountains and disappear. It always
made me feel better, too, knowing I wasn’t the only person staring up at the
mountains, that in those moments I was connected to everyone watching the
sunset, all of us held together by this magnificent view.” She tried to catch

his eyes, but he stared at his plate and resumed eating. “Maybe we can
watch the sunrise together one day,” Isra said.
“Inshallah,” he said between mouthfuls of food, but from the look on
his face, Isra knew they never would. There had been a time when this
would have hurt her, and she was surprised to find that she was no longer
upset. For so many years she had believed that if a woman was good
enough, obedient enough, she might be worthy of a man’s love. But now,

reading her books, she was beginning to find a different kind of love. A