Page 63 - A Woman Is No Man

someone else’s, but I can’t get the thought out of my mind. My brain is spinning on its own,
out of my control. What’s happening to me, Mama? I’m so scared of what’s happening inside
me.

Your daughter,
Isra

Deya read the letter again, then again, then one more time. She pictured
her mother, with her dark, unsmiling face, and felt a flicker of fear. Was it

possible? Could she have killed herself?
“Why didn’t you show me this before?” Deya said, springing from the
bed and waving the letter in Fareeda’s face. “All these years you’ve refused
to talk about her, and you’ve had this all along?”
“I didn’t want you to remember her this way,” Fareeda said, eyeing her
granddaughter calmly.

“So why are you showing this to me now?”
“Because I want you to understand.” She looked into Deya’s eyes. “I
know you’re afraid of repeating your mother’s life, but Isra, may Allah have
mercy on her soul, was a troubled woman.”
“Troubled how?”
“Didn’t you just read the letter? Your mother was possessed by a jinn.”
“Possessed?” Deya said in disbelief. But deep down she wondered.

“She was probably just depressed. Maybe she needed to see a doctor.” She
met Fareeda’s eyes. “The jinn aren’t real, Teta.”
Fareeda frowned and shook her head. “Why do you think exorcisms
have been performed all over the world for thousands of years, hmm?” She
moved closer, snatching the letter from Deya’s fingers. “If you don’t believe
me, go read one of your books. You’ll see.”

Deya said nothing. Could her mother have been possessed? One of the
memories she’d tried to forget hurtled to the front of her mind. Deya had
come home from school one day to find Isra hurling herself off the
basement stairs onto the floor. And not just once, but over and over. She had
jumped again and again, both hands curled against her chest, her mouth
hanging open, until she had noticed Deya standing there.
“Deya,” Isra had said, startled to find her watching. Quickly she had

stood, dragged herself across the basement. “Your sister is sick today. Go
upstairs and get some medicine from the kitchen.”
The feeling that had come over Deya that day, the twist in her stomach,
she would never forget. She had wanted to tell Isra that she felt sick, too.