Page 189 - A Woman Is No Man

Isra sighed. “Even if I have a boy, I don’t know how I’ll raise four
children. Where will I find the time? What if I can’t read anymore?”
“You can always find time to read,” Sarah said. “Soon Deya will be in

school, and it won’t be so bad. And I’ll be here to help you.”
“You don’t understand.” Isra sighed again, pressing her fingers against
her temples. “I know it sounds selfish, but I was finally starting to feel like
a person, like I had a purpose, like there was something else in my life
besides raising children all day and waiting for Adam to come home.” She
stopped, startled by her words. “Not that I don’t like being a mother. I love
my children, of course I do. But for so long I haven’t had anything to call

my own. All I have is a husband who barely comes home and beats me
when he does, and children who depend on me for everything. And the
worst part is, I have nothing to give them! I never thought it would be like
this.” The feeling she had now, that this was all her life would ever be,
caught her by surprise. She began to cry.
“Please don’t cry,” Sarah said, wrapping her arms around Isra and

squeezing tight. “You’re a good mother. You’re doing your best for your
daughters, and they’re going to see that one day. I know this is hard, but
you’re not alone. I’m right here. You have me. I promise.”

“I have something to cheer you up,” Sarah told her when they retreated to
the basement after dinner. She spread a pile of books across the floor.
“There are so many good books in here. I don’t even know where to start.
There’s Anna Karenina, Lolita, The Stranger . . . Oh, and Kafka, I think
you’d love his—”

“No,” Isra interrupted.
Sarah met her eyes. “No?”
“What I mean is . . .” She paused. “I want to read something else.”
“Like what?”
“I want to read something written by a woman.”
“Sure. We’ve already read lots of books written by women,” Sarah said.

“Do you have a specific author in mind?”
“Not really.”
“A specific book, then?”
Isra shook her head. “I was hoping you’d help. I want to read a book
about someone like me.”
Sarah blinked at her. “Like you how?”