Page 192 - A Woman Is No Man

Her hair, which had once been full and bouncy, lay flat behind her ears after
years of dyeing it. All that henna had done her scalp no good, but she
couldn’t bear the sight of gray hair. It reminded her of how fast life slipped

by.
“Where’s Isra?” Sarah asked.
“Downstairs,” said Fareeda. She knew Sarah and Isra had grown close
lately, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. It had been her idea, after
all, to teach Sarah some compliance, but more than once Fareeda had found
them huddled at the kitchen table, whispering to each other, sometimes even
reading together—reading, of all things! She had to listen with half an ear

as she watched her evening show to make sure they weren’t up to no good.
Once she had overheard Sarah translating a novel about a man attracted to
his twelve-year-old stepdaughter, pausing to explain that she had borrowed
the book from a friend because the school library had banned it. Fareeda
had snatched the book from her at once! The last thing she needed was for
either of them to read that sort of Americanized smut. Who knew what

ideas it was giving them? But otherwise, their friendship seemed harmless
enough. She just needed to make sure Isra rubbed off on Sarah and not the
other way around. She smiled to herself—as if anyone could shake some
backbone into Isra. No, she didn’t have to worry too much about that.
Fareeda sliced the knafa into small rectangles and sprinkled them with
crushed pistachios. She glanced at Sarah. “What are you wearing?”
“Clothes.”

Fareeda moved closer. “Are you smartmouthing me?”
“It’s jeans and a T-shirt, Mama. What’s the big deal?”
“Go upstairs and change,” Fareeda said. “Put your cream-colored dress
on. It flatters your skin. Hurry.” As Sarah turned to leave, she couldn’t help
but add, “And fix your hair, too.”
“But it’s just Umm Ahmed. She’s seen me a thousand times.”

“Well, you’re older now, and Umm Ahmed is looking for a wife for her
son. It doesn’t hurt to take some care with your appearance.”
“I’m only sixteen, Mama.”
Fareeda sighed. “I’m not saying you need to get married right this
second. There’s nothing wrong with a one- or two-year engagement.”
“But Hannah is my age.” Sarah’s voice was louder now. “And I don’t
see Umm Ahmed trying to get her engaged.”