Page 257 - A Woman Is No Man

Deya

Winter 2009

As the weeks passed, Deya realized a change had come over Fareeda. She

did not arrange for any marriage suitors to visit. She said nothing when she
saw Deya reading. She even smiled timidly whenever their eyes met in the
kitchen. But Deya looked away.
“I’m sorry,” Fareeda said one night as Deya cleared the sufra after
dinner. Fareeda stood slumped against the kitchen doorway. “I know you’re
still angry with me. But I hope you know I was only trying to protect you.”
Deya said nothing, busying herself with a stack of dirty plates in the

sink. What good were apologies now, after everything Fareeda had done?
“Please, Deya,” she whispered. “How long are you going to stay angry?
You have to know I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m your grandmother. I would
never hurt you on purpose. You have to know that. You have to forgive me.
Please, I’m sorry.”
“What good is your apology if nothing has changed?”

For a long time Fareeda stared at her with wet eyes from the doorway.
Then she sighed heavily. “I have something for you.”
Deya followed Fareeda to her bedroom, where she reached for
something inside her closet. It was a stack of paper. She handed it to Deya.
“I never thought I’d give this to you.”
“What is it?” Deya asked, even as she caught sight of the familiar
Arabic handwriting.

“Letters your mother wrote. These are the rest of them. They are all I
found.”
Deya held the letters tight. “Why are you giving them to me now?”
“Because I want you to know I understand. Because I should’ve never
kept her from you. I’m sorry, daughter. I’m so sorry.”

Downstairs, in the darkness of her room, Deya held her mother’s words up

to the window, where a faint light came in from the streetlamps outside.