Page 215 - A Woman Is No Man

Deya nodded slowly. “Can you always be this way?”
“What way?” Isra asked.
Deya stared at her feet. “Happy.”

“I am happy,” Isra said.
“You always look sad.”
Isra swallowed hard, tried to steady her voice. “I’m not sad.”
“You’re not?”
“I promise I’m not.”
Deya frowned, and Isra knew she was unconvinced. Isra felt a sense of
failure rising in her. She had tried her best to shelter her daughters from her

sadness, the way she wished Mama had sheltered her. She had made sure
they were asleep when Adam came home, made sure they never saw him
hit her. Sadness was like a cancer, she thought, a presence that staked its
claim so quietly you might not even notice it until it was too late. She hoped
her other daughters didn’t see. Maybe Deya could even forget. She was still
young, after all. She wouldn’t remember these days. Isra could still learn to

be a good mother. Maybe she could still save them. Maybe it wasn’t too
late.
“I’m not sad,” Isra said again, with a smile this time. “I have you.” She
pulled her daughter in for a hug. “I love you, habibti.”
“I love you, too, Mama.”