Page 210 - A Woman Is No Man

Isra

Winter 1996

One Saturday morning, after Isra and Sarah had washed the morning

dishes and retreated to the kitchen table with a steaming ibrik of chai,
Fareeda entered the kitchen. “Pour me a cup,” she said.
At once, Isra grabbed a teacup from the cabinet. She had become so
accustomed to following Fareeda’s demands that her body obeyed
unthinkingly. As Isra presented the chai to her, Fareeda turned to Sarah.
“Today is your lucky day,” she said.
“And why’s that?” Sarah asked.

“Because”—Fareeda paused, running her finger around the rim of her
teacup—“I’ve found you a suitor.”
Isra felt something drain from her. She tried to keep from dropping her
tea. How could she carry on without Sarah’s friendship? Without her
books?
“Are you serious?” Sarah said, sinking into her chair.

“Of course I’m serious! He’ll be here this afternoon.”
“Who is he?”
“Umm Ali’s youngest son, Nader.” Fareeda’s smile was triumphant.
“He was at the pharmacy last month. I pointed him out to you, remember?”
“No,” Sarah said. “Not that it makes a difference. I don’t know him.”
“Oh, don’t be so negative. You’ll get to know him soon enough.”
“Whatever.”

“Roll your eyes all you want,” Fareeda said. “But marriage is the single
most important part of a woman’s life, and there’s nothing you can do about
it.”
“Can you believe the woman?” Sarah asked Isra when Fareeda had left
the kitchen. She stared out the window, her brown eyes watering against the

light.
“I’m so sorry,” Isra managed to say.