Page 59 - A Woman Is No Man

“That doesn’t mean you know him,” Deya said. “It’s hard enough
knowing someone you see every day, let alone a man who lives in another
country.” Her classmates stared, but Deya kept her eyes fixed on Naeema.

“Aren’t you afraid?”
“Afraid of what?”
“Of making the wrong decision. How can you just move to another
country with a stranger and think it will all be okay? How can you—” She
stopped, feeling her heart begin to race.
“That’s how everyone gets married,” Naeema said. “And couples move
to different places all the time. As long as they love each other, everything

is fine.”
Deya shook her head. “You can’t love someone you don’t know.”
“How would you know? Have you ever been in love?”
“No.”
“So don’t talk about something you don’t know anything about.”
Deya said nothing. It was true. She had never been in love. In fact,

besides the nurturing love she had for her sisters, she had never felt love.
But she had learned about love through books, knew enough of it to
recognize its absence in her life. Everywhere she looked, she was blinded
by other forms of love, as if God were taunting her. From her bedroom
window, she’d watch mothers pushing strollers, or children hanging from
their father’s shoulders, or lovers holding hands. At doctors’ offices, she’d
flip through magazines to find families smiling wildly, couples embracing,

even women photographed alone, their bright faces shining with self-love.
When she’d watch soap operas with her grandmother, love was the anchor,
the glue that seemingly held the whole world together. And when she
flipped through American channels when her grandparents weren’t looking,
again love was the center of every show, while she, Deya, was left dangling
on her own, longing for something other than her sisters to hold on to. As

much as she loved them, it never felt like enough.
But what did love even mean? Love was Isra staring dully out the
window, refusing to look at her; love was Adam barely home; love was
Fareeda’s endless attempts to marry her off, to rid herself of a burden; love
was a family who never visited, not even on holidays. And maybe that was
her problem. Maybe that’s why she always felt disconnected from her
classmates, why she couldn’t see the world the way they did, couldn’t

believe in their version of love. It was because they had mothers and fathers