Page 92 - A Woman Is No Man

“Good.” He reached into his pocket for a cigarette. “I’m glad.” Isra
blushed.
They turned to walk home. Isra held her breath as Adam blew cigarette

smoke into the air. He was nothing like the men she’d read about in books.
No faris, or prince charming. He was always restless, even after a long
day’s work, fidgeting with his dinner or biting his fingertips. He was prone
to absentmindedness, a faraway look in his eyes. He clenched his teeth
when he was irritated. He always smelled like smoke. Still, she thought, she
liked his smile, the way a dozen lines crinkled around his eyes and brought
his face to life. She also liked the sound of his voice, slightly melodious,

perfect for calling the adhan, or so she imagined—she had never seen him
pray.
Back outside the house, he turned to look at her. “Did you enjoy our
walk?”
“I did.”
He took a long drag of his cigarette before crushing it against the

sidewalk. “I know I should take you out more often,” he said. “But I’m so
busy at work. I don’t know where the time goes between the deli and my
store in the city.”
“I understand,” Isra said.
“Some days it feels like time is slipping through my fingers like water,
as though one day I’ll wake up to find it all gone.” He stopped, reaching out
to touch her belly. “But it will be worth it, you know. Our children won’t

have to struggle like we did. We’ll give them a good life.”
Isra looked at him for a moment, feeling, for the first time, grateful for
his hard work. She smiled and placed both hands on her belly, her fingers
grazing his. “Thank you for everything you do,” she said. “Our children
will be proud.”