Page 184 - A Woman Is No Man

remembered was blinking up at Mama, desperate to meet her eyes, to catch
even the hint of a smile. But she could barely see her face, couldn’t see her
eyes at all. She reached out to touch her hand. Mama flinched.

She waited for Mama to say something. Maybe she was thinking of a
way to punish her. And why shouldn’t she be punished? She deserved it.
There she was, making Mama sad, as if she needed any more reasons.
Deya wondered how she would be punished. She looked around the
room. There was nothing worth taking. Just a handful of toys scattered
across the floor. She thought maybe her mother would take the television.
Or the cassette player. She wasn’t sure. She had nothing.

But then she saw it, the book resting beneath her fingers, and she
realized she did have something to be taken away. She started to think of
the words Mama would use when she told her to hand over her books, that
she was forbidden from the school library, that she was no longer allowed
to—
“Deya,” Mama began. “Your father . . .”

Please don’t say it. Please don’t take my books.
“Listen . . .” Mama was shaking now. “I know you love school . . .”
I’ll do anything, please. Not my books.
“But . . .” She breathed in. “You can’t go to PS 170 anymore.”
Deya’s heart stopped. For a moment, she had an overwhelming feeling
of breathlessness. She felt the way a book must feel, the unseen weight
beneath its cover. She swallowed. “What?”

“Not just you. Nora, too.”
“No, Mama—please—”
“I’m sorry, daughter,” Isra said in a choked voice. “I’m so sorry. I don’t
have a choice.”

“Is that when you started going to Islamic school?” Sarah asked when Deya
had finished. “After they took you out of PS 170?”
“I think so,” Deya said. “Do you know why they took us out?”

Sarah shook her head, shifting in her seat.
“Wait a minute,” Deya said. “What year did you run away?”
“Why?”
“I want to know.”
“Nineteen ninety-seven.”