What We Learned Along the Way (19 page)

“I can’t stand my mother. She thinks I’m
jealous of Kalimah!” she yelled.

“Whoa, calm down, Malikah. Don’t take it out
on me.”

“Sorry, you’re right. She just gets under my
skin. I can’t believe her!”

“It’s not often that I agree with your
mother, but you do seem jealous of Kalimah. Whenever you talk about
her, you bring up all the things she has that you don’t,” Isaiah
said without looking away from the computer screen.

“Excuse me?” she said with her arms folded
“You’re taking my mother’s side?”

“I’m not taking any side. I’m just telling
you how it looks to me. I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong. That’s just
my observation.”

“Do I really seem jealous? I’m not. My sister
and I have very different lives, but I’m not jealous. The only
thing I am jealous of is the way my mother seems to love her and
hate me.”

“Yea, I’ve noticed she has a favorite,”
Isaiah said.

“My dad says it’s because we’re so much
alike. Whatever. I wish she didn’t treat me like an unwanted
stepchild.”

“You’re mother tries to come off like she’s
hard as nails, but I can tell she’s insecure, just like you.”

“What is it with this insecure stuff? My dad
said the same thing. Is that word stamped on my forehead?”

“Malikah, you’re such a wonderful person, but
half the time you act like you don’t know it. You seem so concerned
with everyone else, constantly trying to live up to someone else’s
standard. You bend over backwards to please your mom. You diet to
look like your friends. You dress like Kalimah. What do you want?
Have your own standards.” He had finally turned to face her.

Malikah was surprised at Isaiah’s assessment.
Even if she wasn’t willing to admit it, everything he said was
completely accurate. She usually only thought of him as a physical,
sporty, hands-on type of person. She never knew he was so receptive
and insightful.

“I don’t try to dress like Kalimah. I just
use a lot of the tips she taught me, and I haven’t been on a diet
in the longest. My body’s actually been growing on me,” she said
while checking herself out in his cracked mirror.

“I’m sure it has, but only because I told you
that I like it. I wish you would love your body because it’s yours,
not because I like it.”

Malikah didn’t know what to say. She had
never had anyone read her so well before, and she was embarrassed
to admit it was all true. She tried to lighten the mood with a
joke.

“Okay, sounds like someone’s been watching
too much Oprah,” she said. Isaiah didn’t laugh.

“I’ve always been an athletic person, but
when I was little, I used to be pretty chubby. It’s hard enough
being a fat kid, but being a fat kid in a family full of fitness
freaks is even harder. Eventually I grew out of it, but until that
point, nothing I did was good enough for my parents. Athletically,
I could do everything my sisters could. I was even better at most
things, but because I didn’t look the part, they were never
satisfied. I tried so many diets, worked out non-stop to try to
prove myself to them, but nothing worked. It wasn’t until high
school when I had a growth spurt that they started to approve of
the way I looked. I was so happy when it happened, because I
finally had my parents’ approval, but I had to realize that they
didn’t really approve of me. They approved of the way I looked,
which could easily change. I’m saying all this to let you know that
you will be miserable if you spend your life waiting for other
people to like you. You have to like yourself.”

“You’re right, Isaiah. I do do that, but I
can’t help it. I’ve lived my entire life in my little sister’s
shadow. My mother is always comparing me to her and I never measure
up. What am I supposed to do?”

“I can’t give you all the answers, but I know
once I stopped doing things for other people and started doing them
for myself, I was a lot happier.”

Malikah was quiet for a moment. “So, you
really used to be chubby?”

“Rashad,” Mariam yelled from her office. “Can
you bring me that file on the table?” Even though it was Saturday
and she was off work, Mariam was working just as hard as if she was
on the clock. She had been at her new job over a month and was
finally starting to get the hang of things. When she told the
company she was getting married, they upgraded her living stipend
so she could afford a bigger apartment. They ended up with an extra
bedroom, which was now her office.

Rashad was heavy into a football game, so it
took him a while to bring the file. He couldn’t leave before a
commercial. “How much longer are you going to be working?” he
asked. “You’ve been at it all day.”

“I know. There’s just so much I have to do.
I’m trying to get ahead on next week’s work.”

It was two o’clock in the afternoon, but she
still had on her pajamas. Papers were all over the floor and she
had a pencil in her hair. She sounded just as tired as she looked.
Rashad walked up behind her and began to massage her shoulders. He
turned her chair around and took the papers off of her lap.

“You can work on all that Monday, when you
get paid for it. Come spend some time with your husband.”

Mariam smiled. “I guess I could use a break.
My eyes are starting to cross from staring at this computer screen
so long.” She leaned back and allowed herself to enjoy the massage.
“Oh,” she said as she leaned forward and turned around to face
Rashad. “I knew I meant to tell you something. Did you know Jaime
had a baby?” Rashad didn’t say anything, but his face looked as if
he’d seen a ghost. “I know. I was surprised too. Nadia told me this
morning. She didn’t know who the father was though. I just can’t
believe she didn’t tell me. I guess that explains why she was too
sick to come to our wedding. That also explains why she was
starting to look a little chubby,” Mariam said with a little
laugh.

She was talking a mile a minute, but the
whole thing was a blur to Rashad. He knew it was a dumb idea not to
tell her about the baby. Sooner or later, the news had to get out.
He just figured he would have found a way to break the news before
she heard it from someone else. Plus, he thought he had at least a
few more weeks until the baby would be born. Had he miscalculated?
It didn’t matter now. It was too late. Or was it? She still didn’t
know who the father was. Could he tell her now before Nadia called
back with more information?

While he thought about what to do, Mariam
kept talking. She had to talk to Jaime. She went into the bedroom
to get Rashad’s phone. He followed her.

“Wait, what are you doing?” he asked
nervously as she picked up his phone.

“I’m calling Jaime. I want to hear about the
baby and you know I still don’t have my phone. I can’t believe
they’re taking this long.”

“Wait!” he yelled. “You can’t call her.” He
snatched the phone from her hand.

“Calm down. It’s Saturday. Weekend minutes,”
she said as she tried to grab the phone back. He held it up over
her head so she couldn’t reach. “Come on, Rashad. I won’t be long.
I at least want to know if it’s a boy or a girl,” she said, still
trying to reach the phone. While Rashad searched for the words to
tell his wife, the phone started to ring. It scared him. He dropped
the phone and it flew across the room, slamming into the wall. They
both dove for it, but Mariam got there first. The caller ID said it
was her mother. She answered.

“As salaam alaikum, mommy,” she said in an
excited voice. She missed being able to visit her family,
especially Hamza. She could hear him crying in the background.
“What’s going on? Why is Hamza crying so hard?” she asked.

“Mariam, I think you might need to come home
for a while. It’s your brother,” her mother said in a sad
voice.

Mariam let out a loud sigh. “What did Jihad
do this time? He needs a good beating.”

“He’s been shot,” her mother said.

“Shot! Where? When? Is he okay? Oh my God! Oh
my God!” she cried. She collapsed onto the bed.

“The doctor said the bullet came pretty close
to his heart. He’s unconscious right now. It’s been touch and go. I
think you should come home as soon as possible,” her mother said.
She was trying to be strong for her daughter, but Mariam could hear
her voice shaking.

Rashad was sitting next to Mariam rubbing her
back. She was crying hard, too hard to continue the conversation.
Rashad took the phone from her hand.

“This is Rashad. What’s going on? What
happened? How bad is it?”

“I’m trying to be strong, Rashad, but it’s
hard. I told him to stay out of them streets. I told that boy! Now
he’s laying up in that hospital bed fighting for his life.” She
sounded so angry. “They don’t even know if he’s going to make it
through the night right now. I told Mariam that I think she should
come home. The sooner the better. Do you think you could make it,
too?”

Rashad wasn’t that comfortable about the idea
of asking for time off so soon into his new job, but this was an
emergency. He had to. He heard a lot of commotion on her end of the
phone.

“What!” his mother-in-law yelled to someone
on her end.

“Get a doctor in here quick!” he heard
someone say.

“I have to go,” she said as she hung the
phone up abruptly. He didn’t know what was going on, but it didn’t
sound good. He didn’t want to alarm Mariam any further, so he
continued to talk into the phone for a few more seconds.

“Yes, ma’am. We’ll both be home as soon as
possible. Keep us posted and keep praying. As salaam alaikum,” he
said to the dial tone. “Call us back if you hear anything.”

Mariam’s eyes were deep red and puffy. “What
did she say?” she asked as she picked her head up from the pillow
that was now drenched.

“It’s too soon to say anything. I think now
we should focus on getting tickets home. You stay here and relax.
I’ll take care of everything.” He pulled the covers back and put
her in the bed and brought her a bottle of water. Then he went into
the office to look up plane tickets. For a moment, the commotion
about Jihad made him forget all about Jaime and the baby, but he
didn’t forget for long. As he searched for tickets, he thought
about what it would be like to be back home, in the same city with
Jaime and the baby.

Rashad managed to find some tickets leaving
the next morning. He had given up on the idea of telling Mariam
about the baby. It was hard enough for her to deal with the news of
her brother. He couldn’t possibly give her any more bad news, not
today anyway. Mariam stayed in the bed for the rest of the day. He
tried his best to comfort her. He laid with her. He rubbed her
back, brought her anything he could think of, but nothing helped.
He hated seeing his wife so sad. He wished he could do something to
make her feel better. And on top of all that, he still had to tell
her about the baby.

The next day, they caught an early morning
flight. Mariam was doing a little better. Her eyes were still
puffy, but she wasn’t crying anymore, probably because she had used
up all her tears the night before.

She was pretty quiet during most of the
flight. She looked out the window and slept mostly. Rashad
rehearsed various scenarios in his head. What if they went to the
hospital to see Jihad and Jaime and the baby showed up? What if
Sister Halimah arranged for Jaime to pick them up at the airport?
What if Jaime was on the plane with them right now? What if Jaime
was the one flying the plane? He couldn’t help but imagine crazy
scenarios he knew couldn’t happen, but he had to think seriously
about what he was going to do when it was time to tell Mariam. The
mere thought made him tear up.

Mariam’s parents were waiting at the airport
when they landed. They were the first people the two of them saw
when they got off the plane. Rashad was relieved it wasn’t Jaime.
Mariam ran over to her parents and gave them a big hug. “How is
he?” she asked.

“The doctors still aren’t sure. He isn’t
conscious yet, but they say his vitals are looking better. He’ll
love to see you. He isn’t awake, but I know he can tell when we’re
in the room,” her father said.

The plan was to go home first and get some
rest, but Mariam wanted to go directly to the hospital. She wasn’t
sure if her brother was going to make it and she didn’t want to
waste any time.

The hospital was quiet. Mariam was nervous as
she walked through the long corridor of the ICU. Her hands were so
sweaty that she left wet hand prints on her shirt when she tried to
wipe them off.

Inside Jihad’s room, there were a lot of
wires and machines. One of them kept beeping. It was an eerie sound
that she didn’t really want to hear, but she didn’t want to think
about what it would mean if it stopped. Wrapped up in all those
wires and sheets, her brother looked small and helpless. His head
was covered in bandages and his eyes were closed. She remembered
what her father said about him knowing when people were in the
room, so she tried not to cry. She put on her best smile and tried
to be strong.

She studied his face, hoping to see some
signs of facial movement or maybe even a blink. Nothing. He had a
few scratches on the side of his arm. She imagined that he must
have fallen on that side of his body. She couldn’t stand to think
about her brother being shot, going through so much pain. Her
mother was on the other side of the bed holding his hand. They were
only allowing two people in at a time, so Rashad and her father
stayed in the waiting room.

Mariam’s father had his head in his hands.
Rashad thought he was crying, but he wasn’t sure. He felt awkward
sitting there with him, so he decided to take a walk.

“I’m going to make a run to the cafeteria.
You need anything?” he asked softly. Shareef shook his head slowly.
Rashad didn’t even know where the cafeteria was, but it didn’t
matter. He wasn’t hungry. He just needed some air. He took the
elevator down to the first floor. He passed an indoor fountain and
a statue of a giraffe. He had entered the children’s section of the
hospital. There was a small gift shop, a deli sandwich cart on the
left, and an information desk on the right.