Page 180 - A Woman Is No Man

love that came from inside her, one she felt when she was all alone, reading
by the window. And through this love, she was beginning to believe, for the
first time in her life, that maybe she was worthy after all.

“I don’t understand why you’re wasting time,” Fareeda said to Isra one

Sunday afternoon in March. They were all gathered together at Fort
Hamilton Park to celebrate Eid al-Fitr, which Isra found strange,
considering that most of them hadn’t observed the Ramadan fast that year.
Fareeda couldn’t fast because of her diabetes, Nadine was pregnant, and
Sarah only pretended to fast so as not to upset Khaled, who, besides Isra,
was the only one who fasted every year. She wondered if Adam only
pretended to fast, too, but had never dared ask him.

She didn’t know why she herself still observed Ramadan. Some days
she thought she fasted out of guilt—for often failing to perform her five
daily prayers, for failing to trust in Allah and her naseeb. Other days fasting
reminded her of her childhood, of evenings seated with her family around a
sufra of lentil soup and fresh dates, counting down the minutes until sunset
so they could eat and drink again. But most days Isra suspected she fasted

purely from habit, a soothing familiarity in performing ritual for ritual’s
sake alone.
“Really,” Fareeda said now, “why aren’t you pregnant again? What are
you waiting for? You still need a son, you know.”
Isra sat at the edge of the picnic blanket, as far away from Fareeda as
possible, and watched the rest of the family. Sarah and Deya fed pigeons by
the pier. Khaled carried Ameer over his shoulders. Omar and Nadine held

hands and looked out onto the Hudson River. Adam lit a cigarette. Behind
them, the Verrazano Bridge stood high and wide, like a mountain on the
horizon. “I already have three children,” Isra said. “I’m tired.”
“Tired?” Fareeda said. “When I was your age, I’d already given birth to
—” She stopped. “Never mind the number. My point is that Adam needs a
son, and you need to get pregnant soon to give him one.”

“I’m only twenty-one,” Isra said, startled by the defiance in her tone.
“And I already have three children. Why can’t I wait a little?”
“Why wait? Why not just get them out of the way?”
“Because I wouldn’t be able to raise another kid right now.”
Fareeda scoffed. “Three or four, what difference does it make?”
“It makes a difference to me. I’m the one who has to raise them.”