Page 228 - A Woman Is No Man
P. 228

house alone this late at night?”
                     “Who is that man over there?” Khaled snapped, shooting her a sidelong
                look

                     “I don’t know,” Isra said. “He was trying to help me, and—”
                     “Tell me,” Khaled cut her off. “What kind of decent woman leaves her
                house in the middle of the night?”
                     “Calm down,” Fareeda said sharply. She was eyeing Isra’s head by the
                light of the streetlamp. “Can’t you see the girl is shaken up?”
                     “You be quiet.” He turned around to see Isra fully. “Tell me, where were
                you going? Who is that man?”

                     “I—I don’t know. He was just trying to help,” Isra said. “I was scared.
                My head wouldn’t stop bleeding. . . . It won’t stop.”
                     “That’s no reason to leave the house,” Khaled said. “How do we know
                you weren’t out with some man?”
                     “Man?  What  man?”  Isra  curled  up  in  the  back  seat.  “I  wasn’t  with
                anyone. I swear.”

                     “And how do we know that? How do we know you didn’t sneak out
                with some man and now you’re calling us to come get you?”
                     “I’m telling the truth!” Isra cried. “I wasn’t with anyone. Adam hit me!”
                     “Of course he did,” Fareeda said, flashing Khaled a look.
                     “We don’t know anything,” Khaled said. “Only a sharmouta leaves her
                house in the middle of the night.”
                     Isra was too tired to fight anymore. She leaned her head back, nauseated

                by her own helplessness.
                     “That’s enough!” Fareeda snapped. “Look at the girl’s head.”
                     “She  could’ve  hit  her  head  on  the  sidewalk,”  Khaled  said.  “She
                could’ve just been with another man, and he could’ve done this to her. How
                do we know she’s telling the truth?”
                     “You  cruel,  disgusting  men!  Always  quick  to  point  a  finger.  Always

                quick to put the blame on a woman. Your son is a drunk—of course he is,
                why wouldn’t he be? Just like his father!”
                     “Uskuti! Shut up!”
                     “What?  You  don’t  like  hearing  the  truth?  Look  at  the  girl!”  Fareeda
                turned around and pointed at Isra in the back seat. “Look at her head! It will
                need  a  dozen  stitches  to  close  it.  And  you’re  sitting  here  talking  about
                another man. Ttfu.” She made a spitting sound. “The cruelest thing on this

                earth is a man’s heart.”
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