Page 226 - A Woman Is No Man

the corner of Seventy-Third Street, a pool hall on Seventy-Ninth, a Rite Aid
on Eighty-First. Where was she going? What would she do when she got
there? A gust of wind blew into her face, and she slowed as her body began

to shake, but she pushed herself forward nonetheless, forced her legs to
keep moving. The cold air burned against her open wound, but she kept
running. This is what her life had come down to, she thought. This is what
all her patience had amounted to. Where had she gone wrong? And what
was she supposed to do now? What were her options? Palestine or America
—wherever she looked, she was only reminded of how powerless she was.
All she’d wanted in this life was to find happiness, and now it was clear that

she never would, and just thinking of that fact made her want to stand dead
in the middle of the road until someone ran her over.
She stopped again to catch her breath on Eighty-Sixth Street, in front of
Century 21, a department store that covered half the block. She had been
inside with Khaled and Fareeda once, but she couldn’t remember why
they’d gone. Perhaps Fareeda had needed shoes. She walked down the

street, searching for something, anything, to soothe her, but her body only
shook with more force the farther she walked from home. The sky was
charcoal, without a single star in sight. Around her people rushed by, even
at this late hour. Teenagers laughed, men in tattered clothes lay on the
pavement. They stared at her, and she looked away. She had the sensation
that she was looking down at herself from the sky, as though she were a tiny
infant in the middle of the massive street. She pressed her feet into the

concrete and tried to ground herself.
She paced in circles and began to weep. She crossed the street and
paced in circles again. What should she do? Where could she go? She had
no money, no job, no education, no friends, no family. And what would
happen to her daughters without her? They couldn’t be raised without a
mother. She couldn’t leave them alone with Adam and Fareeda. She had to

go back.
But she couldn’t go back, not to him, not now. She could picture Adam
now, his eyes bulging, his jaw clenching and unclenching. She could feel
his fingers around her arms, squeezing tight. Feel him shoving her against
the wall, pulling her hair, slapping her across the face. Feel his fingers
around her throat, her skin starting to numb, could see the room going
white. No. She couldn’t face him.