Page 41 - A Woman Is No Man

“He was okay,” Deya said, making sure to smile. She didn’t want to
worry them. “Really, he was.”
Layla was studying her. “You don’t seem too happy.”

Deya could see her sisters watching her intensely, their eyes making her
sweat. “I’m just nervous, that’s all.”
“Are you going to sit with him again?” said Amal, who, Deya realized,
was biting her fingertips.
“Yes. Tomorrow, I think.”
Nora leaned in, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Does he know
about our parents?”

Deya nodded as she stirred her soup. She wasn’t surprised Nasser knew
what had happened to her parents. News traveled like wind in a community
like theirs, where Arabs clung to each other like dough, afraid to get lost
among the Irish, Italians, Greeks, and Hasidic Jews. It was as if all the
Arabs in Brooklyn stood hand in hand, from Bay Ridge all the way up
Atlantic Avenue, and shared everything, from one ear to the next. There

were no secrets among them.
“What do you think is going to happen?” Layla asked.
“With what?”
“When you see him again. What will you talk about?”
“The fundamentals, I’m sure,” Deya said, one eyebrow cocked. “How
many kids I want, where I want to live . . . you know, the basics.”
Her sisters laughed.

“But at least you’ll know what to expect if you decide to move
forward,” Nora said. “Better than being taken off guard.”
“That’s true. He did seem very predictable.” Deya looked down into her
soup. When she raised her eyes again, the corners crinkled. “You know
what he said would make him happy?”
“Money?” said Layla.

“A good job?” added Nora.
Deya laughed. “Exactly. So typical.”
“What did you expect him to say?” said Nora. “Love? Romance?”
“No. But I hoped he’d at least pretend to have a more interesting
answer.”
“Not everyone can pretend the way you do,” Nora said with a grin.
“Maybe he was nervous,” Layla said. “Did he ask what made you

happy?”