Page 47 - A Woman Is No Man

cars—hundreds of cars—zooming along them without stopping. Adam said
they were two miles from the exit to Brooklyn, and Isra watched as the

cabdriver merged to the left lane, following a sign that read BELT PARKWAY
RAMP.
They sailed along a narrow highway so close to the water Isra thought
the cab might slip and fall in. She didn’t know how to swim. “How are we
driving so close to the water?” she managed to ask, eyeing a large ship in
the distance, a cluster of birds soaring above it.
“Oh, this is nothing,” Adam said. “Wait until you see the bridge.”
And then it appeared, right in front of her, long and silver and elegant,

like a bird spreading its wings over water. “That’s the Verrazano-Narrows
Bridge,” Adam said, watching Isra’s eyes widen. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“It is,” she said, panicking. “Are we driving on it?”
“No,” Adam said. “That bridge connects Brooklyn to Staten Island.”
“Has it ever fallen?” she whispered, eyes glued to the bridge as they
neared it.

She could hear his smile in his reply. “Not that I know of.”
“But it’s so skinny! It looks like it could snap at any minute.”
Adam laughed. “Relax,” he said. “We’re in the greatest city on earth.
Everything here is built by the best architects and engineers. Enjoy the
view.”
Isra tried to relax. She could hear Khaled chuckle in the passenger seat.
“Reminds me of the first time Fareeda saw the bridge.” He turned back to

look at his wife. “I swear she almost cried in fear.”
“Sure I did,” Fareeda said, though Isra noticed that she still seemed
nervous as they drove under the bridge. When they came out the other side,
Isra exhaled hard, relieved it hadn’t collapsed on them.
It was only after they exited the parkway that Isra had her first glimpse
of Brooklyn. It wasn’t what she had expected. Magnificent was a word you

could put to Manhattan, but Brooklyn seemed plain in comparison, as
though it didn’t belong alongside. All she saw were dull brick buildings
covered in murals and graffiti, many of them dilapidated, and people
pushing their way through the crowded streets with solemn looks on their
faces. It puzzled her. Growing up, she had often wondered about the world
outside Palestine, if it were as beautiful as the places she read about in
books. She had been certain it would be, studying the Manhattan skyline,

had been excited to call that world home. But now, eyeing Brooklyn