CHAPTER FIVE

“What are you talking about? He actually said that? Why would he want to hurt Ali?”
“You know their history. He’s so jealous of him. Jaime knows I never really loved him. He just can’t handle it. I guess it’s an ego thing. Now, with Ali playing such a big role in Joshua’s and Jonah’s lives, it just eats him.” Rachel’s eyes lit up. “You should see how excited they are when they talk about all the things that Ali does with them. It’s killing him. And of course Ali is successful in a way that he’s not.” Rachel was feeling very nervous telling Fatima all of this. The last thing she wanted was for Fatima and Ali to get involved in her problems. And whether Fatima wanted to see it or not Jamie was a big problem.
“It’s his choice not to be in their lives. What does he want? Them to have nothing? Just sit around waiting for him to show up whenever the wind blows him this way? That’s no life for those boys. He should be grateful someone is taking an interest in his kids and giving them some positive life experiences.” Fatima pushed her cold plate away.
“Maybe someone would be ok, but not Ali. Anyway he says he’s not around for the boys as much as he wants because he’s busy building their future.” Rachel knew how pathetic that sounded, but she really wanted Fatima to calm down and hopefully move onto another topic.
Fatima scoffed at Rachel’s comments. “Oh yes, building their future. They’ll know right where to find him when he’s finished, too, behind bars.”
Rachel was too embarrassed to even reply. She knew everything Fatima said was true and she wanted nothing more than to walk away from Jamie permanently, but he was so persistent. When he was away she was fine. She didn’t even think about him, but when he came around with his sad story, she just felt so weak. If she ever tried to resist him he would get explosive. She just couldn’t handle the outbursts.
Somehow she also feared making a mistake. What if he could change and be a good father to her boys. Did she have the right to give up on that? Didn’t her boys deserve a chance at having a family? Then there was always the fear that he would move on to someone else. Then she would look like the idiot, stuck with his kids while he went off and had a new family. She knew it made no sense but these were the issues she had to get over before she could truly move on in her life.
“Fine, they have this long standing rivalry, but what makes you think he really would do something to harm him?” Fatima pressed Rachel for more answers.
“I don’t remember his exact words, but I believed him.” Rachel twisted uncomfortably in her seat.
Fatima was silent as she processed everything she had just heard. “Rachel, did you make the list?”
Fatima was always talking about her prayer list. Mama had one and they had even gotten Naomi to start one. Fatima insisted that if Rachel made a list and prayed over it every day, she would be amazed at the miracles that would happen in her life.
“I promise you if you pray on that list, one by one you will be crossing things off and thanking God for hearing and answering your prayers.”
“Yah well maybe for you, but not me.” Rachel started to pick at her food again.
“Why not you? It works for me, and everyone else, but not you? You really think you’re that bad?” Fatima teased.
“Fatima, you know it’s just not my thing.” Rachel took a bite of her food.
“If that were true you wouldn’t be my friend.” Fatima smiled at Rachel with tenderness.
“Next topic.” Rachel cut Fatima off abruptly. This was one area she was not going to get into now. Praying was hard for her since her father had died. She had prayed so hard for him to recover from his accident and come back home. It hadn’t happened. Now they had to live a life without him. They had suffered so much since his death that Rachel just had a blockage when it came to prayer. She knew it worked for some people, but she just didn’t know how to make it work for herself.
“Ok, next topic.” Fatima reached across the table and held Rachel’s hands. “I am going to ask you something and I want you to tell me the truth, no matter what it is, ok?” Fatima sounded so serious that Rachel felt uneasy.
“Ok.”
Fatima took a deep breath. “Your baby, was it Jamie’s?” Fatima kept her eyes on Rachel’s face.
Rachel heard the key in the door behind her and felt relief. She didn’t like the direction of this conversation. On the other side of the door Ali paused and when Fatima gave him the ok he entered the house.
“As-salaam alaikum.”
“Wa alaikum as-salaam,” Fatima replied without taking her eyes off Rachel.
“Hey Ali, how was the game?” Rachel was eager to hear about Joshua’s first day on the field. She was so grateful that Ali had stepped up and taken on the responsibility of her sons. At least she had made one good decision in her life, having him as a friend.
Ali bent to take off his shoes. “Incredible! I just dropped them home. They must be talking your mother’s ear off right now. They were so excited. Joshua is good! You should see him handle the ball. I think you have a little star on your hands.” Ali was beaming with obvious pride.
“Really? I should go see them.” Rachel tried to get up, but Fatima would not release the grip on her hands.
“I’ll see you later,” Ali said to Rachel. He turned and headed up the stairs.
“Ali,” Rachel called to him as he mounted the stairs.
“Yes Rachel.” Ali paused and looked back.
“Mom loves her kitchen. It’s amazing.”
He smiled. “I’m glad.” He turned and disappeared up the stairs.
Fatima pulled Rachel towards her across the table and whispered, “Answer me.”
“I shouldn’t even answer you,” Rachel replied in an angry whisper. “Of course he is. What kind of a person do you take me for?”
Fatima released her grip on Rachel. “Just forget it. I don’t really know what I’m saying.”
“I can’t even believe you could ask me something like that. What are you really suggesting? You know what? I don’t even want to know. I’m just going home.” Rachel got up. “My life is getting crazier by the minute.”
“Listen, forget it. I just, I don’t know, so many things have happened in the last two days that I just don’t feel like myself.” Fatima was starting to blush.
“Well, I guess you are entitled. You are hormonal.” Rachel was happy to drop the subject. She didn’t even want to imagine what was going through Fatima’s mind. “Just don’t go getting freaky weird on me.” Rachel’s voice was starting to soften.
“I’m sorry, I feel really stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Fatima was obviously embarrassed.
“Well, I have dumped a lot on you too. That wasn’t fair.” Rachel reached out and touched Fatima’s shoulder. “This was really bad timing. Look my boys are waiting for me and your husband is waiting for you, so I’m going home.”
“Okay,” Fatima nodded.
“You get some rest and take care of Mr. Abati’s baby.” Rachel allowed herself to smile again. “I don’t want him blaming me for stressing you out.”
“Good night Rachel, kiss the boys for me.”
“Bye.” Rachel touched Fatima’s cheek and left. Fatima closed the door behind her.

“What is happening to my life?” Rachel thought out loud, as she walked across the street to her house. She dreaded going there. Everything reminded her of her father. She felt guilty leaving her mother alone as much as she did, but nothing was the same without him. Naomi wasn’t even the same. Rachel really missed him now. If only he were here she would know what to do. She had always felt so safe with him. Now nothing was right and nowhere was safe. Rachel reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. She had some things to add to her list.

Inside the house Fatima could still feel her cheeks burning. What had she been thinking asking Rachel such a question? She really needed to rest. Leaving the girls with Mama and Papa was starting to sound like a good idea.
She stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked up. Ali was likely packing a bag and getting ready to go catch his flight. Rachel had been a pleasant distraction, now back to her life. She looked up the stairs, but didn’t think she had the strength to climb them. It was getting harder for her these days. Sleeping on the couch was sounding good. She hated sleeping alone anyway. Ali appeared at the top of the stairs, with a bag over his shoulder. He wore blue jeans, a button-down shirt and a brown suede jacket.
“Do you need a hand?” He smile warmly at her, but she was not in the mood for his pleasantries.
“No, actually I was heading towards the couch.” Fatima turned and made her way to the family room and sat in the arm chair closest to the entrance. The pressure of the last two days coupled with Ali’s impending departure was too much for her. She leaned back and closed her eyes.
“It’s not what you’re thinking.” Ali’s voice was coming from the doorway directly behind Fatima.
“And how do you know what I’m thinking?” Ali had now pulled up an ottoman and was sitting by her side. Fatima opened her eyes to meet his gaze.
“Because of these,” he curled his fingers and gently pressed them to the corner of her eye, “and these,” he repeated it on the other eye. When he pulled his hand away his fingers held the moisture from the tears Fatima was trying to hold back.
“You know how I am when I’m pregnant. I’m just a little emotional.” She was embarrassed. He could always read her so well.
“I know. That’s why I don’t want you to worry about anything.”
Fatima stared straight ahead and through the back window. “I hate to think that we have secrets between us. If there’s some kind of problem I should know.”
“We have no secrets. I don’t want you to think that” Ali pulled his seat a little closer.” Listen I have never had to ask you this before, but I’m dealing with something right now and I just need you to give me some time. Can you do that?”
Fatima looked straight ahead. “You’re going to miss your flight.”
“I need to make sure you’re alright.”
“And if I am not?” She turned to look at him again.
“Then you should tell me.”
“I’m fine.” Fatima continued to look at Ali and in spite of all she was feeling she started to smile.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
“Like what?” Fatima asked innocently.
“You tell me.”
“I was just remembering something; something the ladies were saying about you today.”
“Oh? Ladies talking about me? What else is new?” Ali smiled although his clear brown eyes still had the heaviness Fatima had seen in them earlier today when he first told her about his trip.
“Aren’t we modest?” Fatima hit him with a cushion.
“Look, I have to go. Are you going to get the girls? I’ll drop you over there.” Ali stood up and held out his hand.
“No, I think I’ll wait a few minutes. I just want to rest.”
“I don’t feel good leaving you alone. Let’s go. We’ll move slowly.”
“Really, I just want a few minutes by myself,” Fatima insisted.
Ali reluctantly agreed. “Fine, I’ll call you in a little while.”
“Inshallah.” Fatima closed her eyes and leaned back again. “Ali did you tell your parents you were leaving.” Fatima called out to him before he went through the door.
“I spoke to my dad, but I had to duck out before Mama caught me. You know she would drill me.” Ali smiled and Fatima couldn’t help but smile back. After he had left she relaxed and fell asleep.

The telephone rang waking her up. It was Ali calling from the airport. He was about to board his flight and was suggesting that she leave the girls with Mama and Papa and get them in the morning. He said he had already talked to them about it. She agreed. After she hung up the phone she prayed, then she transferred to the couch and pulled a blanket over herself. A piece of paper fell out of the blanket when she lifted it. Fatima knew what it was. Ali always left notes around the house when he travelled. The couch was one of his regular spots. He never forgot to do it. Fatima always wondered how he managed to do it without her noticing. She opened the piece of paper. I’ll miss you, it said.
“I’ll miss you more,” she whispered. She pulled up the blanket and went to sleep.

NEXT POST ON WEDNESDAY....thanks to those who are following the chapters. I will decide how many sample chapters to post depending on readership. If you are following and would like to read more (a little more :)) let me know.

CHAPTER FOUR

Fatima returned just as her housekeeper, Patricia was leaving. “I’m all finished Fatima. I’ll see you next week.” It had taken years for Fatima to convince Patricia to call her by her first name, but in the case of Ali, the best she would do was to call him Mr. Ali.
“Oh, thank-you Patricia. Did you eat?” Fatima asked her as she entered the front door.
“Yes, and yes I took the container in the fridge. I’ll return it next Friday.”
“Alright. Have a good weekend, then.”
Fatima closed the door went to look for Rahma. The girls had just had lunch and were ready for their nap. Rahma read them a few stories and put them to bed. After Rahma left Fatima tried to study, but she was exhausted and fell asleep too.
When she woke up it was 5:15 pm and the house was quiet. The girls never slept this long. Fatima went to check on them and saw that they were not in their rooms. She realized that Ali must be home. She went to look downstairs and found him in the kitchen.
“As-salaam alaikum, where are the girls?” Fatima rubbed her face to help herself wake up. She usually used the blow dryer on her hair. Today she did not have time so her hair was still curly, but had been flattened by her hijab.
“Wa alaikum as-salaam, Papa came over. He wanted to visit with them. I told him you were sleeping so it would be better to keep them at his house.”
Papa never needed a reason to take the girls. He lived for them. He often came by to play with them or help take care of them in some way. He had built a huge playground for them in his backyard and they spent many days out there. He also taught them regularly too. All the girls had started reading Quran and the oldest had already memorized much of the 30th part of the Holy Book.
“Did they eat?” Fatima had prepared dinner before going to Naomi’s house.
Ali leaned against the black marble of the kitchen island. “Are you joking? You think I would feed them if they’re going over there? What would happen if they refused Mama’s food? She would probably think they’re sick.”
Fatima laughed. “You’re right. They’ll have more than enough to eat over there. Did they use the washroom?”
“Yes, yes, Fatima they’re fine. Relax. Here sit.” She looked behind Ali and could see that the letters were missing from the letter holder.
Fatima was eager to find out what was going on, but she was hoping that Ali would tell her voluntarily. She slid into the bench of the booth where they usually took their meals. “So what time did you get home?”
“About 45 minutes ago.” Still leaning against the island he watched her closely. Fatima knew that look. He had something to tell her and was trying to find the right way to do it.
“How was your day?” Fatima’s eyes scanned the kitchen in search of the mysterious letter.
“Good, nothing special. Coach worked us hard, though.”
“You look tired. Are you hungry?” Fatima started to get up to prepare his food.
“Actually I am, but I can wait. Come, I need to talk to you.”
Fatima’s curiosity was at its peak. She followed Ali to the family room at the back of the house and sat beside him as he indicated.
“I need to go out of town.” Fatima remained silent waiting for the rest. “I’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon.”
“What’s going on?” she asked as she tried to keep her voice steady.
“I need to go to Ottawa.” Ali’s face was blank. Fatima couldn’t read anything from it and she was trying hard.
“Why?”
“I just need to take care of something. Nothing to worry about. I’ll be home tomorrow.” Ali's gaze shifted from one of Fatima’s eyes to the other gaging her response.
“When are you leaving?” Why is he being so cagey?
“Tonight. I have a flight for 9:45 pm. I’ll leave right after the soccer game.”
“That’s cutting it kind of close isn’t it?” Fatima couldn’t understand why he was not more forthcoming. This wasn’t like him at all.
“It is, but I think it’ll be ok. I have a meeting in the morning. I’ll try to do it as early as possible then head back home. I’ll be home before dinnertime.” Ali rubbed his chin. “Maybe you should all stay with Papa tonight, or I can ask them to come over here.”
“No, I’ll be fine.” Fatima shook her head. Papa treated her like a top priority, especially when Ali was away. Anything she wanted he did for her. She didn’t want to put him out at all.
“At least Rahma should come, in case you need anything.” Ali was never comfortable leaving Fatima alone especially while she was so advanced in her pregnancy.
“If she wants to. Whatever. So are you going to tell me what this is all about? Or am I to die in suspense?” Fatima tried to make her voice seem light but she didn’t think she could be convincing.
Ali looked quickly around the room and let out a heavy sigh. It was clear he was not going to talk about it. “I can’t right now, but I will as soon as it’s all sorted out.”
Fatima was stunned. She hadn’t really expected him not to tell her. She couldn’t believe it. Ali was sitting in front of her telling her that he was about to fly to Ottawa, stay overnight, be back home tomorrow by dinnertime and he was refusing to tell her why.
“This doesn’t make any sense. Ali is everything ok with you?” She was starting to feel concerned.
“Yes, yes, I don’t want you to worry about anything.” Ali nodded his head.
“Don’t shut me out, Ali.” The hurt in her voice was obvious.
“I’ll handle it. I’ll be back before you know it.” He looked up and tried to smile.
The phone rang breaking the heavy silence that had fallen between them. Fatima walked across the room and down two steps to the lower level of the family room to pick up the phone on her desk.

“Hi Rachel what’s up. What happened?” Fatima remembered that Rachel was going to call her doctor.
“I’m at the hospital. I guess the procedure wasn’t done completely so I had to have an emergency D&C.”
“What! Oh no.” What else could go wrong today? Fatima wondered.
“I’m ok, but I’m exhausted and this nurse really ticked me off and now I’m being discharged and I’m really sorry Fatima, but could you pick me up? I’m really sorry.”
“No, of course I’ll come. I’ll be there right away.”
“Oh, and Joshua and Jonah are at the daycare. They need to be picked up before 6 pm.”
“Ali is getting them today. Remember Josh starts soccer tonight?” Fatima glanced up the stairs to see Ali watching her. She turned her back and continued listening to Rachel.
“Oh, I forgot. I don’t think I can make it tonight.” Rachel sounded on edge.
“Don’t worry. Ali can manage. Papa has the girls so he’ll just have your guys. It’ll be fine. I’m leaving now. Bye”
“What’s going on?” Ali stood up and approached Fatima.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” Fatima deliberately sounded more nonchalant than the situation called for.
“It sounds like something’s wrong.” Ali had reached the top of the steps.
“Don’t worry, I can handle it.” Fatima stepped past him and left the room. When she arrived at the storage bench beside the front doors she grabbed her hijab and her purse from one of the three rattan baskets underneath and slipped into her shoes. Ali stood at the end of the hall watching her. She turned and left without saying good bye. When she was finally outside she put her sun glasses on and grunted in frustration. She felt like screaming.
This was the first time Ali had ever kept anything from her. He certainly never stayed away from home unless he was playing ball. Even then he always preferred that she go with him. Beyond that he was acting so anxious. Fatima racked her brain trying to figure out what it could be. She couldn’t help wondering if it had something to do with the letter. But why the secrecy? She had a very uneasy feeling about the whole thing.

Rachel waited for Fatima to arrive and when she saw her car she tried to rush to it. Fatima came out of the car to help her.
“Take it easy, here let me help you. Where is your car?” Fatima looped her arm with Rachel’s and helped her to the door.
“It’s still at the mechanic’s. I should get it back tomorrow.” Two people about to enter the hospital stepped aside to let Rachel pass by and looked back as they did.
Fatima smiled at her friend. “Even on your worst day you still turn heads.”
“Ha, they’re probably wondering why I’m being let out.” Rachel eased herself into the car. Fatima stood beside the door after closing it for her.
“At least someone is humble around here.”
Rachel knit her brows and shifted her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Ali doesn’t even pretend not to notice the attention he gets.”
Rachel leaned back and closed her eyes. “He would have to be mentally impaired not to notice, but you know he doesn’t care.”
“I guess.” Fatima walked to her side of the car. After entering and getting buckled she turned her attention back to Rachel. “I can’t believe this. Is this the height of incompetence or what? How could they not have completed the procedure properly? Who was the doctor?”
“Dr. Simms, but I think it happens sometimes. I don’t know. I really don’t have the energy for this. Anyway, there was this nurse.”
“Oh yes, you mentioned the nurse. What happened?”
Rachel relayed the story. She had been sitting waiting for her examination and the nurse that had attended her was young, about Rachel’s age. Rachel thought she would like her until she opened her mouth. After looking at Rachel’s chart she turned to Rachel and asked, “Did you go to the University of Toronto?”
“Yes,” Rachel had replied while she tried to search the nurse’s face for some familiarity.
“And you have two boys right?”
“Yes.”
“Are you Jamie’s girlfriend?” the nurse had asked.

Rachel turned to Fatima. “Now do you think I really wanted to hear his name?”
“What did you say to her?”
“Oh please, I still haven’t answered her.”
“How does she know you? Who is she?” Fatima questioned.
“I don’t know. Did you hear me say I know her? She said she’s a friend of Jaime’s and she heard he had kids. My name sounded familiar and I fit the description. Whatever that means. She ticked me off that’s all I know.”
Rachel fumed at the thought that someone who knew her knew her business, especially a friend of Jaime’s. Maybe she was upset at not knowing what the relationship was between Jamie and this woman. The whole situation was so humiliating and again Rachel was angry with herself. What had she done wrong to deserve this? Why did Fatima end up with the perfect life? What was the difference between them? Even though she kept trying to put her life right it seemed like obstacles kept being thrown in the way.
“Why do you care? Who cares? Just worry about yourself and your kids and stop thinking about what everyone else is thinking because they’re living their lives and it has nothing to do with you.” Fatima was firm.
“The whole situation is just so embarrassing.” Suddenly another reality gripped Rachel. “What if she tells Jamie?”
“What? She can’t do that. What about confidentiality?”
“Oh, wake up Fatima, not everyone follows the rules. I mean, obviously she knows why I was there. What if she tells Jamie? He’ll kill me.”
“I am so sick of hearing about Jamie. Stop making decisions in your life based on him! Where is he now? Where is he when your kids are sick or lonely or hungry or dirty or whatever? Tonight Joshua is starting soccer for the first time. He is so excited, and where is his father? Nowhere, that’s where. Just forget that loser and move on Rachel. For God’s sake what is it going to take for you to get it?” Fatima was starting to get angry.

Fatima didn’t understand. Jaime wasn’t the same guy they had known in high school. He wasn’t just a small time hoodlum any more. He had graduated. He had connections. He really knew some serious people and he could do a lot of damage, to all of them.
“Move on to what? Huh? What? I don’t see any knight in shining armour riding around here. If there was, you grabbed him quick enough. Anyway I have two kids; that definitely reduces my value on the market.” Rachel felt emotion building and that made her angrier than ever.
“What are you talking about? You can have anything you want. You know that. You’ve made good things happen in your life, but you just stopped moving forward. Remember the scholarship?”
Rachel had been a Rhodes Scholar. She had received several scholarship offers. But the one she was really interested in was the swimming scholarship to a top University in the States. She had been so excited to go, but had changed her mind at the last minute, because Jaime had convinced her that their relationship would not survive the distance.”
“I didn’t want to leave Jaime.” Rachel shook her head. “That was stupid wasn’t it?”
“Jamie didn’t want you to leave him. You were ready to go. He was threatened by you moving forward when he wasn’t. What did we tell you then? If you two were meant to be together then you would be and if not you would meet someone better. You didn’t go and now look. You’ve stayed in the same place and where is he?”
Rachel remembered everything. Fatima and Ali had worked hard to convince her to go. She almost thought that they were trying to get rid of her. They had told her all the right things. She just hadn’t believed them.
“Rachel you have to start believing in yourself again. And you have to listen. Allah sends you messages through the people around you. You miss them if you don’t listen. You have so many people giving you good advice, people who really care about you. Get back on your life and start moving forward one step at a time.”

Fatima was right. Rachel knew it, but there had been so much going on at the time. Ali had recently signed with the Razors and he and Fatima were planning to get married.
Papa had insisted that they wait one year to get married. Papa wanted to see how Ali handled himself on the road. He always said, “Every daughter is my daughter and every son is my son.” He would not give his blessing for Ali to marry Fatima until Ali proved that he was responsible. Ali had agreed. He didn’t want to get married without the approval of both his parents.
Rachel had felt like she was losing everything. She had also been afraid to go far away from home and Jaime just felt safe and familiar. Anyway he didn’t become controlling until she was pregnant with Joshua. Or so she thought. Talking her out of the opportunity of a lifetime was certainly a controlling move. Two girls she had competed with had gone on to swim on the Olympic team. Rachel knew she could have been there too.
“You don’t understand. You’re married. It’s different for you.” Rachel turned to look out the window.
“You could have been married too. Ali knows so many people, good guys who would be great for you.”
“Who said I want to marry a Muslim?”
“It doesn’t have to be a Muslim. What about Shawn? He’s a great guy. He would be perfect for you. And what’s wrong with being a married to a Muslim?”
“I just don’t know if I can be that good little wifey, that’s all,” Rachel replied in an animated way.
“It’s all up to you, honey. Just be the good little baby-mother then.” Fatima shot back.
Rachel turned to look at Fatima in shock. She usually was straight forward, but this was harsh even for her. Maybe Rachel was wearing her out. Rachel was certainly exhausted too. They pulled up in front of Fatima’s house.
“Hey, did you forget about me?” Rachel joked.
“No, I want you to come over. You need to rest and Naomi might get suspicious.”
They entered the house and Rachel gingerly stepped on the tiled floor of the foyer. Most of the rest of the house had hardwood flooring. Rachel headed straight for the kitchen and slid into the booth. Fatima walked to the family room to turn on the adhan. “I have to pray, and then we can have dinner,” she said over her shoulder.
“Aren’t you going to wait for Ali?” Rachel asked.
“No.” Fatima said flatly and continued walking.
“Ok, I won’t ask.” Rachel stretched her legs and made herself comfortable. She really loved Fatima’s kitchen. It was large enough to have several people working comfortably in there at once. Ali and Papa had built a wonderful booth, just like the ones in restaurants. It was perfect for the kids, they could just slide in and out and it was great for the adults too. The seats and back were cushioned and exactly what Rachel needed right now. She stretched her legs out and put her feet up on the opposite bench.
From her seat she could see outside through the front window. She was looking directly at her house. Rachel wondered what her mother was doing right now. She knew her mother was worried about her. Fatima was right to have her come over. Naomi had a way of sensing things.
Rachel laughed and shook her head. She had told her mom she could probably go into business. With a sign outside ‘Naomi Knows’ she could make real money telling people all about themselves. That’s why Rachel had to keep her distance for a little while.
The adhan finished and Fatima started to pray. Rachel always felt so relaxed at the sound of the adhan. She had been hearing it for over 15 years and it was the same every time. She really enjoyed watching Fatima and her family pray as well. The movements had such beauty and grace. They all seemed so united when they prayed together.
Thinking about Fatima now she wondered how she kept her balance in her condition. She was just weeks away from having her baby, yet her prayer was still as smooth as ever. Fatima finished her prayer and returned to the kitchen.
Rachel wanted to lighten up the mood. She was expecting Fatima to hit her with a ton of questions and was willing to use any delay tactic necessary.
“How do you manage all that up and down with that huge belly in front of you?”
“I do yoga every day. I’m flexible, fit and strong.” Fatima flashed a smile.
“Ooh, I’m scared! I wouldn’t want to come around here late at night.” Rachel joked.
Fatima heated the food she had prepared earlier and placed it on the table then brought up the subject of Jamie.
“So, are you ready to talk?” she asked Rachel.
Rachel knew that she wasn’t going to get away with not saying anything this time. The time had come to come clean about the whole story. She knew Fatima was not going to let her off the hook again.
“What do you want to know?” Rachel picked up her fork and jabbed a piece of stewed chicken. Fatima usually made this dish on a Friday for her housekeeper. It was one of Patricia’s favourites and Fatima like her to have it when she worked once a week.
“Well, what happened? Why did you decide not to have the baby? Why didn’t you tell us? It just doesn’t sound like you,” Fatima asked.
Rachel sighed. She really wanted to put this all behind her. She certainly didn’t want to discuss this with Fatima. But she felt like she owed her some explanation after Fatima had done so much to help her. Should she tell her about the night that Jamie had come a few weeks ago? She looked out the window. Night was falling and she wondered about her boys. They would be on their way home soon. She was so sorry she had missed Joshua’s big day.
“I was going to have it, I guess. I just really wasn’t thinking about it.”
Fatima remained silent waiting for Rachel to complete her story. “Then Jamie came by unexpectedly and I tried to tell him and he started going off. He was acting like he didn’t believe it was his kid or something. I don’t really get it. I guess it’s because he doesn’t come around that often. Then he said he heard Ali was spending a lot of time with the boys and he said maybe they weren’t his either. It was all so weird.”
“That’s it? You had an abortion because Jamie was freaking out? Who cares? You see him two or three times a year.”
“You don’t understand. How was I going to have another child for such a loser? Josh and Jonah already suffer so much because of him. I couldn’t do that to another baby. I just couldn’t”
“No, this doesn’t make sense. It’s not adding up. There has to be more to it.” Fatima was not accepting this line of argument at all.
“I know it’s my own fault, but you don’t know what it’s like carrying and having a baby for someone that is such a big stress in your life. You have no idea what that feels like.”
Fatima thought about how impossible it would be for her to get through her pregnancies without Ali's love and support. She also knew how vulnerable she felt when she was pregnant, even though she was secure in her marriage. “I understand that. I just feel so sad about it. No matter what, Joshua and Jonah are such beautiful boys and a blessing to all of us. I just think that with all the support you have you could have made it work.”
“For some things there is no substitution,” Rachel said as she played with her fork.
Fatima knew that was definitely true.
“I just wanted to cut ties with him completely. I figured this was as good a time as any. I actually thought I might move,” Rachel added.
Rachel did not want to tell Fatima how scared she really was of Jamie. It was better if she just moved away and got as far away from Jamie as possible. Everyone would be better off, she thought.
“Move where? Why? What about the boys?” Fatima showed her confusion and concern in her eyes.
“I haven’t figured all that out yet. I just think it might be best. I need to put distance between me and Jamie. Maybe if he doesn’t know where to find me for a while that will change things. I’ll take the boys with me, or not. I don’t really know yet.”
“Running is not going to solve your problems. It is not the location that’s all wrong. It’s just you Rachel. You have to fix you. You might think it will be easier if you go, but it will be much better to do it right here, with all of us here to support you. You can’t just get up and go to I-don’t-know-where; and leave the boys? No. You definitely can’t take them away from everyone and start all over. Who will help you take care of them?”
“I’m a big girl now. I can do it.” Rachel knew she did not have a plan, just a desperate need to start her life over, get away from Jamie and make sure that her friends and family did not get caught in the middle. She had a decent job working with the Bell Canada, but she could find another job. Maybe she could get transferred to another office.
“Fatima, Jamie is not small time any more. He knows some serious people. And they are not all street people either. They’re professionals, business people, and politicians. He can make a lot of trouble.”
“Rachel, he’s nothing. He can’t do anything. Stop giving him all this power. Where are you Rachel? This is not you. Has he threatened you? We can call the police. You know you should have done that a long time ago. Maybe you can get a restraining order. I can’t believe the nerve of him. Threatening the mother of his kids? Not that he cares about them anyway.
“I don’t even know why he shows his face around here. He’s just trying to mess with your head. He’s slowly taking more and more control because you’re letting him. Only you can stop this Rachel. Maybe I should go and talk to him. Why, I’ll just go to the police myself. Or maybe I’ll call Shawn, he’s a lawyer. He’ll know what to do.” Fatima went on and on. She was like a faucet that had been left running. She didn’t even notice Rachel’s growing agitation.
“Stop!” Rachel put her hands to her face, tensed her body then let out all the breath in her lungs as she fully relaxed then said. “Fatima, it’s not me he wants to hurt.” She paused not knowing how to tell her best friend the truth. “It’s Ali.”

NEXT POST ON FRIDAY...

CHAPTER THREE

When Fatima arrived the other ladies had already been seated and were engaged in chit-chat. Naomi’s home as usual smelled sweet. When they were kids they always made an excuse to come inside. They had to use the washroom or they were hurt. Then they would start sniffing. “Hmm, I smell something,” would always be the standard line. Naomi would smile her knowing smile and say, “I wonder what it could be? Maybe it’s window cleaner. I just did the windows.”
“No, that’s not it,” the child would say.
“Maybe it’s laundry soap? I did the laundry this morning.”
“No, I think it’s something to eat?” They would say.
“Oh,” Naomi would put her hand to her head as though the answer had just come to her. “Could it be this?” Then she would lift a cover from a dish to reveal her treat of the day. It might be cookies or cake or her special tarts. Whatever it was they all loved them just as much as Naomi loved making them. But they knew Naomi got the most joy out of seeing people eat her food. She was the same way now. As Fatima entered the house the same familiar sweet aroma coming from her kitchen had comforted her immediately.
“Ms. Naomi? It’s Fatima,”
“Come on in. We’re all waiting for you.” Naomi called from the upper level.
Fatima climbed the stairs from the small foyer to reach the living room. “Sorry I’m late.” Fatima kissed Naomi on the cheek, and hugged her. She took a seat beside Mama and turned to greet the other ladies.
There were three women seated in Naomi’s living room. Sister Harrison, Sister Charles and Sister Barclay were all seated and ready to start the session. Sister Harrison was about 30 years old. She was the church secretary and the mother of three small children. She was cute and perky with what Fatima liked to call a ski slope nose. She had her black hair cut in a chin length bob. She was the first to greet Fatima.
“Hi, just call me Susan.”
Sister Charles was in her late 40’s and had a very stern look about her. It was said that when you got to know her she was the warmest, most generous person. Just don’t get on her wrong side. She ran all the children’s programs, and was part of the visiting committee. She was said to have a firm but loving hand.
Sister Barclay was about 60 and very friendly in a grandmotherly sort of way. Fatima knew her well. She was always in the neighbourhood visiting Naomi and taking her to appointments when the rest of the family was not available.
“Fatima, darling it’s so good to see you again.” Sister Barclay said.
“Thank-you Sister Barclay, it’s good to see you too.”
Sister Barclay looked at Naomi. “I noticed your lovely garden. I can’t wait to see all the flowers come in. They were so beautiful last year. I was admiring the yard before I came in. Lilies are my absolute favourite. I just love them.” She then turned to Fatima, “Naomi told me about the mystery gardener.”
“Yes, that’s my Ali,” Naomi said with pride. “He planted everything just the way I told him to. Even though I can barely see, when the sun shines just right I can see them.” Naomi smoothed out her blouse over her trousers the way she usually did when she had finished making a point.

“Well we are expecting a few others, but we can get started. I know the ladies have a lot of questions. Maybe we can start by introducing ourselves. You all know me I’m Naomi and I have three children. I live with Rachel, my youngest and her two sons, the lights of my life, Joshua and Jonah. I arranged this meeting because the sisters in my ladies group have a real interest and curiosity in the lives of Muslim women, and who better to ask than Muslim women.”
The ladies all introduced themselves and more members of the ladies group arrived as did a few more friends of Fatima and Mama. Then the questions started.
“Do you guys have arranged marriages? Are you allowed to choose your own husband?” Susan was the first to start talking.
“Absolutely, you choose your own husband. You should take advice from parents and we all want our parent’s blessings. Also parents or friends may introduce potential partners, but in the end it is the choice of the couple.” One of the sisters responded.
“Can you date?” Susan continued.
“No there is no dating in the usual sense. You can talk and get to know the person that way, but there is no relationship before marriage.”
“Then how would you get to know the person?” Sister Charles asked.
“Well, the best ways to know someone are to talk to people who know them. People who live with them, have travelled with them and done business with them. It’s more accurate than trying to figure out if the person they are presenting to you is the real deal.”
“What’s the difference between Muslims and Islam?” Sister Barclay asked.
“Islam is the religion, belief in one God and the belief that Muhammad is His last Prophet and a Muslim is the person who practices the religion of Islam.”
“How do you become a Muslim? Can anybody be a Muslim?”
Fatima was tickled at the eager questioning of the ladies. With all the information available about Islam it still amazed Fatima that the same basic questions were always asked. She was happy for the opportunity to share with these charitable and open minded ladies. “Yes, Islam is for all people and for all times. You become a Muslim by declaring that there is no God but God and Muhammad is His messenger.”
“Who is Allah?” Sister Charles
No matter how many times this questioned had been answered, Christians had the most difficult time accepting the answer. “Allah is the God of the Universe, The God of Adam and Eve and all the Prophets including Jesus and Muhammad. The Arabic word for God is Allah. Christian Arabs also say Allah.”
“So you believe in Jesus.” Susan sat forward in her chair. Fatima sat back and let another sister tackle this question.
“Yes, absolutely we do. We love and revere Him very much and believe He will return at the end of time. The Quran tells us that he did not die on the cross, but Allah made it seem so to the people. Allah rescued Him and took Him up to heaven.”

The questions continued until noon. The ladies asked about family and children and friendship with non-Muslims. They were particularly interested in Mama’s experiences in Rwanda and becoming Muslim and being married to Papa.
“How did you survive during the war?” Susan asked gently.
“Well, the tensions had been growing for weeks. Of course no one imagined that it would end the way it did, but Tutsis were being harassed constantly and even beaten in the streets on a regular basis. We started to get very nervous at the beginning of April.” Mama replied.
“Then we heard that the killings were starting in the villages. My friend told me that we should come to her neighbourhood. It was a Muslim neighbourhood and they were Hutus and Tutsis both living there, as in many neighbourhoods, but these people had vowed not to let anyone enter their neighbourhood and harm anyone.
My husband had said I should go, but he headed to one of the village churches because we heard that many people had gathered there for sanctuary. He decided to stay with them if necessary and he thought he might be able to reason with the death squads if they came.” Mama scoffed at her own mention of the death squads. “Reason with death squads? Can you imagine? How wrong he was. He barely escaped with his life.”
The women hung on Mama’s every word. “He was actually able to keep them off for hours and then negotiations were up and they just started chopping everyone in sight. Papa got his left leg badly injured, but still was able to escape to the bush and make his way to my hiding place, with a few other parishioners.”
“How long did you stay in hiding?” Susan asked.
“100 days.”
“What happened during that time?”
“Several times the death squads came but our neighbours came out with rocks, knives, bows and arrows. They would not let them advance one inch. There was even a case of the squads setting fire to a Masjid, but they were too afraid to enter and kill the people. They thought the Muslims had some kind of magic.” Mama laughed. “It was no magic, just Allah.”
“Why didn’t the Muslims join in the massacre also?” Sister Barclay joined in the questioning.
“Their bond in faith was just more important than ethnicity. We can all learn a lesson from that. They not only protected Muslim Tutsi’s but non- Muslims as well.” Mama sat calmly in her seat as she related her story. “It was well-known that the safest place to be was a Muslim neighbourhood. You know, after the massacre some of those murderers even converted to Islam to hide from prosecution in Muslim neighbourhoods. Some of them were sincere, though. They really wanted to seek purification and ablution from their sins.”
“So no Muslims ever came to harm you?” Susan knit her brow and titled her chin upward.
“Yes, of course there were a few. And you know what they were told, ‘If you dare come to hurt anyone first tear the Quran and denounce your faith.’ Do you think they could do it? Never. They turned away, every one of them.”
“They were coming to murder people, but they would not tear the Quran?”
“They could never do it.”
“Wow.” Susan thought of her own small children and wondered how she could survive something so horrendous. “How old were your children?” she asked.
“Rahma wasn’t born yet, but Ali was ten at the time. That’s when he got the name Ali. Our friends, the people we stayed with started calling him that because every time the men would go out, they had formed a system of watching the neighbourhood and they needed to take turns, you know , Ali would cry and cry because he wanted to go to. He had made his own bow and set of arrows and he would cry to go. They said he was as brave as Imam Ali (as). So we called him Ali from then. When we came to Canada he insisted on taking martial arts, archery, everything. He said never again would he allow people to be hurt while he stood by.” Mama wiped a tear from her cheek.
“What about the rest of your family?” Susan asked
The whole room fell silent while they waited for Mama’s reply. All they could hear was the ticking of the kitchen clock. Fatima who was seated beside Mama moved closer, put one arm around her shoulder and held her opposite hand.
“Most of them, dead. My mother is still missing.” Mama rose to her feet and left the room.
“Oh, we are so sorry.” Susan whispered through her hands that now covered her mouth.
“It’s ok. You didn’t know.” Fatima cleared her throat and adjusted her clothes as she thought of Mama’s anguish not knowing if her own mother were dead or alive and what had happened to her. Mama’s family had been miles away from the church that Papa and she had been working at. When the killings started there was no way to get to them or even get information. It was something that had haunted Mama all these years.
Naomi, let out a heavy sigh. “Let’s have lunch.”
Fatima eager to change the mood of the room, jumped to her feet and offered to help, but when she entered the kitchen she realized that Naomi had prepared everything.
“Ms. Naomi you did everything.”
“Well, with my new kitchen everything is easy now.” Naomi came close to Fatima and patted her hand.
“Wow, Sister Grant this kitchen is amazing. It must have cost a fortune.” Susan stood behind Fatima.
“Yes, I am sure it did. With all these bells and whistles I can cook gourmet meals all by myself.” Naomi’s new appliances all had ridges and Braille overlay and the stove had special easy to use timers and a sound system to alert the user if the stove was on, off, on high, medium or low heat. Everything had large knobs with loud clicking sounds. There was even a master switch in case of emergency or doubt to turn off everything in the kitchen at once. The floor had special markers to remind her where she was without having to touch anything.
The ladies helped themselves to an assortment of finger foods, casseroles and desserts and of course Naomi’s famous fruit tarts.
“So Fatima, your husband is a point guard for the Razors?” Sis Charles inquired.
“Yes, he is.” Fatima was used to having people ask her about her husband and their relationship.
“Oh, I have seen him, such a handsome boy.” Sister Barclay said as she took a seat in the living room just steps away from the kitchen.
“Thank-you, he looks just like my husband.” Mama had re-emerged from the back room and was looking as fresh as ever. She was a pretty woman. Her dark skin was smooth and youthful and her brown eyes were round and soft. She was about 5’7 but had a small frame. Still her presence was unforgettable.
“That’s not all true Mama. He’s a lot like you. He may have Papa’s height and some of his features but he has your bone structure and your voice. He has your beautiful rich voice.” Mama indeed had a beautiful voice. Although Papa had taught their children the basics of Quran reading she had taught them to recite Quran and Dua in the most breath taking way. No matter how many times Fatima heard Ali recite; it still swelled her heart and brought tears to her eyes.
“Either way he is gorgeous. How do you deal with the groupies?” Susan asked as she bit into a tart.
“Well...” before Fatima could answer Mama interrupted.
“There are no groupies.” Mama answered in her stern way. “We have trained our son well and we could send him safely to the moon. I am sure of that.”
Susan cleared her throat. “I see,” she said in her perky little way.
“Well,” Fatima added carefully after taking a seat in the kitchen, “in his first year of playing his father travelled with him all the time. He was so young, you know. They wanted to make sure he was ok on the road. And after we got married Papa insisted that I travel with him. It was tough, because I had just started University, but it worked out. We actually had a lot of fun that first year.”
“What about now?” Susan raised her eyebrows over her cup of tea.
“Well, it’s harder now, with three little ones but we’re all pretty comfortable with the arrangement. Still if he needs me I’m there. I have so much support here it’s fairly easy to pick up and go if I have to.”
“Does that ever happen? Will he just call and ask you to come?”
“Sure. Not often, but it has happened,” Fatima replied.
“And what, you just drop everything and go?” Susan pressed.
“No questions asked.” Fatima shrugged.
Susan chuckled and lifted her tea cup. “I would too, if I were you. You just never know.”
“Ok, leave the girl alone, enough about her business; this is not a meeting to discuss her marriage.” Naomi interrupted.
“Oh but it’s so interesting. A young Muslim basketball player and his family right here in the neighbourhood. You know I need all the details.” Susan squealed.
The women continued to eat and talk for one hour, then started to leave. “Well, thank-you all for coming.” Naomi seemed truly pleased at the success of this first meeting.
“We should do this again. There is so much more I want to know. It was so much fun.” Susan piped up.
“Yes, it certainly was informative. How about next week, same time?” Sister Charles suggested.
“Sounds great. Let’s consider it confirmed. Fatima, could you stay for a minute. I want to talk to you.” Naomi said.
“Sure.”
After the ladies had left, Fatima sat beside Naomi. “Did you want me to help you clean up?”
“No, no, I just wanted to talk to you.” Naomi paused and turned her face towards Fatima. “Is Rachel ok?”
Fatima a little nervous, responded with a question, “What do you mean?”
“Well, she didn’t go to the swim club this week, and you know how committed she is to coaching.” Naomi paused as if wondering if she should continue. “And a few weeks ago, Jamie was here.” Naomi nervously folded her hands in her lap.
“A few weeks ago? Are you sure?” Fatima thought Rachel had said it had been months since the last time she had seen him.
“Yes, I saw him,” Naomi insisted.
Fatima widened her eyes and looked doubtful. “Ms Naomi, you saw him?”
“Yes, my sight comes and goes. Sometimes I can see a little. The doctor thinks it’s my imagination, but I know it was Jamie that day.”
Fatima kept listening.
“After that day she was acting strange you know, real quiet and sulky. Then yesterday after you dropped her home she was real sick that night. She went straight to bed.”
Fatima smiled. “Ms Naomi, how did you know that I dropped her home?”
“Fatima please; you know I know your car. I heard you drop her off and I heard her sneak in and go to her room. I also heard her crying all night.” Naomi’s face became red and she flared her nostrils.
Fatima knew how difficult it had been for her since her husband had died. She had become a completely different person after the accident. Naomi never fully recovered after the shock of losing her husband and always felt guilty that she had not been emotionally and psychologically available to help her children through their difficult time.
Now she wanted only to connect with Rachel and help her raise her sons, but Rachel always seemed like she was avoiding spending any real time with Naomi. Fatima knew this caused Naomi deep sadness.
Fatima remained silent for a full minute trying to avoid a response. Naomi waited. “Well, I am sure she will be fine.” Fatima finally responded.
“You are a good friend Fatima.” Naomi patted her hand. “I know you won’t betray her trust. Just make sure she gets what she needs, please?”
“Of course.” Fatima was almost embarrassed by Naomi’s comments. Naomi knew that Fatima was withholding information, but what choice did she have? She couldn’t tell Naomi about what had happened to Rachel. It was not her place to do so.
Naomi started to wag her finger. “I told her if that boy comes around she should just call the police. He is up to some trouble. I can just smell it. He usually comes at night. No shame that boy has, no shame I tell you. She has enough reason to get a restraining order. I don’t know why she won’t do it. Talk to her please Fatima, maybe you can get through to her.”
“I will,” Fatima promised and she intended to keep it. She would talk to Rachel later today.

Fatima smiled to herself as she walked home. How did these old people know everything? You could not put anything past them at all. Well, it was good. We all need people looking out for us, Fatima thought.
So, Jamie was here. Fatima couldn’t get that out of her mind. Rachel hadn’t told her that. Why not? What had happened? Why was he here two weeks ago? Why didn’t we see him? He usually made a big production out of his visits. It stayed on Fatima’s mind all day.


Next Post on Monday...

CHAPTER TWO

Fatima stretched in her bed and looked up at her ceiling. She still smiled every time she saw it. Ali had written a poem on the ceiling in their bedroom when they had bought the house.
She still had no idea how he managed to do it, but he did and it was complete before they had moved in. Whenever he had out of town games it gave her comfort knowing it was there. She always slept peacefully as a result
Today she woke up feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. How could her best friend have been going through something so terrible and not have confided in her? Yesterday it seemed that she was so angry with Rachel. She definitely was, but she was also angry with herself. If she had been the kind of friend that she should be then she should have known something was wrong. Rachel should have felt comfortable to come to her. She was partly to blame for this whole mess. How could she not have seen the signs? Was she so engrossed in her own family that she had neglected someone so close to her that was in need? She could never let that happen again.

She heard the front door and knew Ali was returning from his parent’s house. Every morning he joined his father for Fajr prayers and often had breakfast with Mama and Papa before returning home. In good weather Fatima would go with him and bring their girls, but on days like today she was so happy that the best place for a woman to pray was her bedroom. She smiled to herself and snuggled under her duvet.
Her room faced the front of the house and with the window open she could clearly hear the birds playing. They were lucky enough to have blue jays nesting nearby. She loved the beautiful bluebirds and had one in particular that she was trying to teach to talk. She imagined them splashing in the backyard fountain in between the trees. Ali had planted a fruit tree each time a child was born. He had planted an apple tree for Masuma, a cherry tree for Laila and pear tree for Batool.

“Ali, should I put Fatima’s food in the fridge?”
Fatima could hear Rahma’s voice. She was Ali’s younger sister and she often came over in the morning to help with the kids or just socialize. Fatima’s house always had more action than hers anyway.
“No, just leave it on the table. I’ll see if she’s up yet.”

“Ali, do you think I’m a good friend to Rachel?” Fatima hit him with the question as soon as he walked in the bedroom door.
At 6 feet 4 inches Ali had an undeniable presence. Many people were intimidated on first meeting him because of his serious demeanour. Only those closest to him knew the warm and loving man that he could be. Though he indeed viewed and approached life seriously, anyone who was fortunate enough to catch one of his smiles knew there was more to him than what appearances revealed.
“Of course, you are, the best, actually. Who else would do all that you do for her?” Ali replied.
“Do you think I’m trust worthy?” Fatima sat up surrounded by white bedding, her current favourite colour. She had become obsessed with the colour lately.
“I trust you with my life.” Ali said as he sat on the side of the bed. “What’s this about?”
“Ok well, do you think I’m too hard on her? You know, maybe I make her feel bad sometimes?”
“Ok, I knew something was up.” Ali leaned back on one arm. “Is Rachel ok? Is it something with Jamie?” His voice flattened. They all felt the same way about Jamie. They had seen how he had treated Rachel over the years, and how much their two sons suffered because of his neglect. No one was a fan of Jamie’s and he and Ali had had more than one run in.
“No. no she’s ok. I just was thinking that’s all.” The look on Ali’s face let Fatima know that he knew there was more to the story. She knew he wasn’t going to press her. He knew when to give a woman her space. He stood up and walked toward the walk-in closet that connected the bedroom to the bathroom.
“How are Mama and Papa this morning?” Fatima asked, with a smile on her face. She loosened the scrunchie she had holding her dark hair and let the long layers fall down her back. She loved those two people so much.
“Oh, they’re great. Mama made her traditional welcome home breakfast.”
“She is so funny. She does that every time. Isn’t it reserved for when people return from long trips?”
“Hey, who’s going to argue with Mama?” Ali titled his head raising his eyebrows over eyes that were the colour of iced tea. He flashed his signature smile revealing a dimple in his left cheek.

Mama was from a small village in Rwanda. Papa had been an Italian missionary when they had met. He had spent 15 years in Rwanda building churches and schools and ministering to the people of Mama’s village. He and Mama had married and built a fairly large following. After the massacre in 1994, many people had their faith shaken when they saw Tutsi and Hutus in the same church turn against each other. Some churches had ministers who had preached and supported the killings from the pulpit.
Mama and Papa had been sheltered by Muslim neighbours who had refused to get involved in the violence. Their brotherhood through faith was more significant than ethnicity. Many people were protected in Muslim neighbourhoods until the unrest had ceased. After 100 days, Mama and Papa had emerged to a broken country. They eventually made their way to Canada.
Naturally their interested in Islam had been peeked and after a period of diligent study they had taken shahada, declaring themselves Muslims. Ali had been 10 years old at the time. Rahma was born right after their reversion. Both children were a beautiful combination of their dual heritage. Ali was definitely his father’s son, but with the perfect bronze skin that gave homage to his African ancestry. Rahma had the small neat features of her mother combined with an olive skin tone much closer to her father’s complexion.

“Ok, well I’m going to make some porridge.” Fatima turned down her duvet and started to get out of her bed.
“Don’t bother. I have breakfast for you. It’s on the table.” Ali usually brought her breakfast in the morning. When he was away his parents delivered her food or sent it with Rahma. Mama’s welcome home breakfast was a favourite of Fatima’s because she knew the love and care that went into it. It consisted of traditional Rwandan foods prepared in Mama’s special style.
Fried sweet potatoes, fried plantain, introduced by Fatima, beans and sweet cornbread were always served with fruit salad topped with homemade whipped cream and of course tea. Mama kept a secret mixture of spices for her “save your life” tea. She claimed that if you were on your last leg, this tea would bring you back to life. They had all tried to recreate it but could never get it right. She had promised to reveal the recipe in her will.
“Oh, I’ll eat it. The porridge isn’t for me.”
“Rachel?”
Fatima smiled. Her mother was Jamaican and they had a running joke in the family about the way Jamaicans used cornmeal porridge as an all purpose cure. If you were sick you needed cornmeal porridge. If you were healthy, fat, thin, pre/post surgery, during pregnancy, after childbirth, had an underweight baby, big baby, loss of appetite, digestive problems, hungry or thirsty, all conditions and situations called for cornmeal porridge.
“But she’s ok?” Ali did not sound convinced. “Whatever. I’ll let you ladies have your little secret. I’m going to the gym and I have practice later.”
“Remember Joshua starts soccer tonight.” Fatima stood and started to stretch.
“Of course, I remember. I’ll be back by five.”
Rachel’s oldest son was starting soccer and Ali was coaching the team. They were all so excited to see Joshua growing up. Fatima had always felt a little guilty about the way events had unfolded for her and Ali. The three of them had been best friends growing up. They did everything together. Fatima was an only child and Rachel and Ali were her brother and sister. When she became Muslim and married Ali everything changed. She always felt that she had stolen Rachel’s best friend. Then Jamie turned out to be a dead beat and Rachel was all alone. Fatima just felt obligated to share Ali, at least for the sake of the boys.
“Ali, you’re going to the gym on a full stomach?” Fatima asked.
“Well, I have a few errands to run first. That should give me enough time to digest Mama’s meal.” Ali winked and disappeared into the closet.
Fatima prepared to shower and change into her workout clothes before heading to the kitchen to make Rachel’s porridge and do her yoga routine.

Fatima’s kitchen had been renovated to include stainless steel appliances, floor to ceiling cabinets and an over sized doubled sink kitchen island where she dreamed of making bread and pastry. She had just turned off the stove when she heard the door bell.
“Oooh, baby blue, how cute is that? Does that mean you might actually have a boy this time?” Rachel teased Fatima about her blue yoga outfit that barely covered her growing belly as she walked in the door.
“Will you get in here so I can close the door? Fatima stood behind the door, the way she always did when she answered the door with no hijab.
Rachel stepped into the foyer. It was a large space decorated with mature plants. Islamic calligraphy hung on the walls and in the centre of the foyer a vase of flowers rested on a tall round marble table. To the right a winding stair case led to the upper level of the house. “Well, who told you to come to the door exposed?” Rachel joked with Fatima. “Nobody wants to see you anyway. Now that husband of yours, that’s another story.”
Fatima looked at Rachel and almost felt like she was looking at herself. The two were often mistaken for sisters. They often sported the same haircut; though Fatima’s hair grew fast when she was pregnant and was now well past her shoulders. They had similar features and skin tone. The only major difference was height. Rachel was at least 3 inches taller than Fatima. Still on more than one occasion someone actually thought Rachel was Fatima or vice versa. They always got a kick out of that, especially since Fatima wore hijab and Rachel didn’t.
“You don’t stay down long.” Fatima replied. She looked at her friend intently. She certainly looked better than yesterday. Her spirits seemed up. One could never tell with Rachel though, she used her sarcastic humour as a defence mechanism all too often.
Rachel came in and took a seat at the kitchen table. “How are you feeling?” Fatima asked.
“Ok. I really am sorry about yesterday. I just didn’t know who else to call.”
“I know. It was good that you called me, really. We’ll talk about it later, ok?”
“Thanks.” Rachel replied. She then looked down at her hands on the tiled top table. “I know I don’t need to ask, but you didn’t say anything to Ali did you? I can’t imagine what he would think of me.”
Fatima looked shocked. “Of course not. No need to worry, on both accounts. You know he would never judge you. If anything I think it would just make him angrier at Jamie.”
At the mentioned of Jamie’s name, Rachel shifted nervously in her seat. Fatima noticed and changed the subject.
“Are you hungry?”
“What’s cooking?” Rachel tilted her head.
“Porridge.” Fatima said as she tried to suppress a smile.
“Cornmeal?” Rachel asked
“Of course.”
“The two ladies burst into laughter. “Fati, I am so sorry, forgive me?”
Fatima held Rachel’s face and kissed both sides. “Of course. I just wish you had told me everything. I just wished I could have been there for you. I still don’t understand why you did it. It doesn’t make sense to me. And why are you still allowing Jamie so much access in your life?”
I’m not. “Well, it’s over now. We can move on.” Rachel eager to do that, looked back towards the front door and commented on some socks that were stuffed into Ali’s shoes. “What’s with the socks?”
“He always puts his socks in his shoes when he takes them off. Sometimes one pair will become like a storage place. He’ll have three or four pairs of socks in a shoe. You never noticed?”
“No. Have you talked to him about that?”
“A million times. Anyway, that’s nothing, try looking under the couch, beside the bed, in the computer room, you name it. He says it’s an illness he’s had since childhood. Finally he suggested that we each be allowed one bad habit.”
“You actually agreed to that?
“Sure, I used to get so irate about it, then one day Mama was here and after I told Ali off about it, she looked so hurt. I could have died. I actually think the suggestion came from her.”
“So what’s your bad habit?” Rachel leaned over the table.
“I would never tell you!” Fatima was aghast.
Rachel looked back at the socks again. “Girl, that would drive me mad.”
Fatima smiled mischievously. “You have a man that comes around once every six months, doesn’t support his two sons, has you all hospitalized and you’re talking about socks?”
“No, but come on that’s crazy! You know I’m a neat freak.”
“You’re crazy.” Fatima turned away from Rachel and reached for the pot on the stove.
“No girl, that’s crazy.” Rachel insisted as she pointed at the shoes stuffed with socks. “Thank goodness, he has at least one fault. He was making the rest of us look bad.”
Fatima raised her eyebrows. “One? He has many. I just don’t talk about them. You know that as well as I do. You practically grew up in his house.” Fatima served Rachel her porridge and sat down across from her with a cup of herbal tea. She would eat her breakfast after her workout.
“So where is everybody?” Rachel asked.
“The girls are still sleeping and Rahma is in the computer room, as usual. Ali is getting ready to go out.” Rahma was 15 and taking online courses for a semester while helping with her father’s non-profit organization as a co-op assignment.
“Make sure Ali knows I’m here. I wouldn’t want to him to come down indecent or anything.” Rachel started to eat. Fatima’s gaze was steady and she didn’t blink.
“He knows you’re here. He’ll let me know when he’s coming down. Anyway, how are you feeling today? You seemed to be in a lot of pain yesterday. Is that normal?”
“I don’t know. Not that I’m an expert or anything. Anyway, I do feel better, but the cramping is pretty bad.”
“Maybe you should call the doctor just to be sure. How is the bleeding?”
“Heavy.”
“Clotting?”
“Don’t ask. I was brave to come over here. I feel like I should just spend the day in the washroom.”
“Just call them at least. Make sure.” Fatima was concerned.
“Fatima” Ali called from the second floor. Fatima stood and walked to the bottom of the stairs to let him know that it was fine for him to come down. When he arrived in the kitchen he greeted Rachel.
“Rachel, how are you doing?”
“Good.” Rachel eyed him from head to toe. “Where are you off to so early?’
“The gym.”
“You’re not dressed for the gym.” Ali wore casual pants and a knit top.
“I have some errands to run first. Is that ok with you?” Ali joked.
“I’m just saying, you are a ball player. It’s not like you’re not used to going around in sweats. It must be something special.” Rachel continued eating.
“Fatima, I’ll call you later” Ali started to put on his shoes.
Ali opened the door and walked across the stone porch. Rachel stood in the double doorway and called after him, “Don’t be mad Ali, you know Fati is my girl, I just have to make sure everything is on the up and up over here.”
Fatima laughed and shook her head, “Did I mention you were crazy?”

“Look you’ve got mail.” Rachel took the mail from the box and handed several envelops to Fatima.
“Thanks.” Fatima flipped through the letters and junk mail and stopped at one piece of mail addressed to Ali. It was from a lawyer’s office. She didn’t recognize the name or address. It was not even from their city. That’s strange. What could it be about? “Why don’t you open it?” Rachel had not left Fatima’s side after giving her the mail.
Fatima dropped her hand, removing the letter from Rachel’s line of vision. “Girl, do you always have to be in my business?”
“I’m just saying, I’m standing right here. You want me to pretend I don’t see it? You know I can’t lie. Me, I would open it.” Rachel closed the door behind them.
“I can’t do that. I’ll just give it to him later.” Fatima turned the envelope over in her hand.
“What could it be about?’ Rachel pressed.
“I don’t know.”
“And you’re the wife, so you know I don’t know.” Rachel stepped aside allowing Fatima access to the kitchen.
Fatima continued to look at the envelope as if the answer could come through the paper. “Strange.”
“Fati, are you ok?”
“Sure.” Fatima answered mindlessly.
“Are you sure?” Fatima didn’t respond. She placed the letter with the rest of the mail in the mail holder and returned to finish her cup of tea.
“So, Fatima what plans do you have today?” Rachel asked.
“Well, after I workout I have a meeting with your mom.”
“Really, what’s that about?”
“She’s having some of the ladies from her church group over for lunch, they really wanted to meet some Muslim women and talk about Islam. I guess they have a lot of questions.”
Naomi was a devout Christian who had family roots in Canada for generations. Her great-great-grandparents had travelled through the Underground Railroad to settle in Southern Ontario. Rachel’s father had been from the Caribbean.
Naomi had raised three children by herself since Rachel was 10. She had suffered through depression and had lost her older children to foster care because she had been unable to care for them. Mama had seen the writing on the wall and taken legal guardianship of Rachel just before the CAS was called in. Rachel had lived with her for a few years until Naomi was able to regain custody of her. By then the older children were living on their own. Rachel’s older brother and sister had moved to different cities and rarely kept in touch aside from the occasional phone call.
Naomi had developed diabetes in later years and was legally blind as a result. In spite of all of her problems, she was a ray of light and full of love and happiness. Fatima loved her as much as she did her own mother and Mama.
Fatima’s mother was also a single parent and always busy. She was an archaeologist and her work took her around the world. She had named her daughter Fatima after the famous Portuguese city. She had fallen in love with it on one of her trips. She had also met her husband there. He had been in the city of Fatima working on a project for a British Museum.
Due to her mother’s frequent travel Fatima often turned to Naomi and Mama when she needed that motherly guidance.
Today Fatima was happy to spend time with Naomi’s church sisters and was always thrilled to have the opportunity to talk about Islam, especially if it meant dispelling myth’s and misunderstandings. Mama would attend the meeting with her.

“Remember you need to see the doctor, or at least call or something.” Fatima reminded Rachel.
“Yes, I will for sure. I better get out of here and let you get ready.” Rachel had finished her breakfast and gotten up to leave. “Take care Fatima, thanks for everything.”
“Ok. Let me know what happens.”
After Rachel left the house Fatima cleaned up the kitchen and started her yoga routine. The girls were still sleeping. Fatima was not going to wake them up if she didn’t have to. Rahma would stay with them while she went to Naomi’s.

CHAPTER ONE

“You’re going to be alright. You have to be.”
Rachel blinked her eyes and squinted under the hospital lights in the white sterile room. She couldn’t stop shaking. Still groggy, she closed her eyes again. No, I will never be the same again, she thought. The warm words of the petite brown haired nurse touched her and hurled her even deeper into the well of shame that engulfed her. How could anyone care for me and treat me with such compassion after what I have just done? Rachel wondered.
It didn’t help that the doctor had also been sympathetic. Tall, young and entirely too good looking for this job, he had smiled warmly while trying to distract Rachel with some frivolous conversation about allergies. Rachel had tried to reciprocate, but could not have been more humiliated if a billboard with her on it had been posted in front of the hospital.
She could see the hospital staff moving around, but was not sure what they were doing. She couldn’t focus on anything. Fresh tears ran down her face and into the tracks of the not so old ones. The tears followed each other in a steady stream now, threatening to drown all her sorrow, but they could not. Tears flowed as though they could wash away the act; wash away the shame and indiscretions making Rachel new again. They could not.
Rachel had gone under anaesthetic in tears and had come out in tears. She wondered if she had cried throughout the procedure. Was that even possible? She could remember the hospital staff being so cheerful and kind. It was sickening. Did they treat everyone like this? They had made every effort to cheer Rachel up. The nurse closest to her head had been humming. She had short dark hair and an easy smile.
“You’re going to be fine sweetheart, really you are.” She had said, all too knowingly. Had she done it too? Who were these people? Didn’t the nurse know Rachel was about to be struck with a sudden and complicated death as punishment for this grievous sin, this hideous act that she had done not once but twice?
Rachel could only think about the possibility of her dying during the relatively safe and simple procedure. Safe for me, certainly not for my baby. She knew she would have deserved it. She was so grateful when her eyes opened.
The anaesthesiologist had told her to count to 10 and then she would be out. She had willed herself to stay awake as she searched herself for the answers. Did she really want to do this? Was she doing the right thing? Did she want to abort another child? As she reached three the answer came to her, NOOOOO! She wanted to scream. Let me go home! It was too late. Now she was awake.
Where was her baby? What did they do with it? My. God. How could I end up in this position, again? She had promised herself she would never do it again. Now this was a pattern. She was 24 years old with two children and two abortions under her belt. Not to mention countless trips to the clinic for emergency contraception. Wasn’t that the same thing? But this time wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t think about it now. She had to get home, before her mother got back from church.

Rachel pressed her eyes together attempting to squeeze out all the tears, the pain and the sadness. The nurse was back. More love, more soothing. Didn’t she know she was an accomplice? How many more would she assist today? This was a job?
These people are sick. “I need to get out of here.” Rachel hadn’t realized she had spoken out loud.
“No, honey you have to rest. I’ll bring you some food when you get to the recovery room.” It was the accomplice. They were still in the procedure room. Rachel glared at her. “How long have you worked here?” she charged.
“A few years.”
“And you like it?” She demanded with her eyes wide.
“It’s my job. I like to help people.”
Rachel almost choked as she tried to hold back a wicked laugh. Help people?
She doesn’t know herself either.
Rachel looked around the recovery room at the other patients. The walls were a soothing green, and the burgundy leather chairs were well cushioned, but nothing could comfort Rachel. One of the other two women had a man with her. Sickening. You actually let her go through with this. And you call yourself a man? Rachel couldn’t even look at them.
Rachel was alone. She burned with embarrassment. Of course, it was her choice. She had not told Jamie. Indeed she would never tell him this.
“He would kill me.” Rachel whispered to herself. She suddenly felt a new chill and drew her blanket tighter.

After 30 minutes Rachel was led to the area where she would get dressed. She held her head up and tried to look casual. She had to pass many people, some staff, some patients, and visitors. She wondered if they knew what she had just done.
“Here you go honey.” Wasn’t honey sweet? Rachel stepped into a small room that had several cubicles for dressing. She entered one and closed the door. She started to think about her life and where she was going. Nowhere she was proud of.
This month she would turn 25. Her sons were 4 and 5. They were born 10 months apart so they would both be 5 in December for two months. They got a kick out of that. Jonah was so excited at the prospect of catching up to his brother. Joshua thought they were going to be twins for two months.
Rachel let out a weighted sigh. Imagine if they knew what had happened today. Anyway it was for the best, wasn’t it? What would she do with three kids? She thought back to her time in the recovery room.
Rachel had heard soft footsteps on the hospital tiles. The accomplice had come to check on her. Rachel was feeling fine aside from terrible cramping. She had not experienced that before. Of course this time was different. Rachel had read that when people were being operated on their bodies often tensed under the touch of the scalpel. She wondered in her emotional condition, what her body had done.
What about her baby? What did they do with it, she wondered? She had to do it. She couldn’t have another child. Not like this. Not for Jamie. Yet she was so sick with grief that she couldn’t think about it anymore. It was over and she would go on. She was not going to let it get to her, stay with her. Not like the first time. This baby would not haunt her like the first one.
She got dressed, washed her face and finger combed her jet black hair. Last year she had cut it in a short bob, but it had long since grown out of the style and now hung past her shoulders. She powdered her face and put on her signature raspberry lip-gloss. Her mocha skin was flawless as always. She was ready.
She was not allowed to leave the hospital alone so Rachel had taken a cab to the hospital and called her best friend to pick her up. She hadn’t told Fatima why she was going to the hospital. She knew Fatima would not want any part of this.
When she came out of the dressing room Fatima was waiting. By the look on her face Rachel knew she had figured out what was going on; and she was mad.
Rachel signed the release papers at the nurses’ station and quickly turned to leave. Fatima was steps ahead of her.
“Fati, please, I can’t keep up.” Rachel complained as she weaved through the people. She counted the steps until she would be on the carpeted section of the floor closer to the door. She felt like a child who only started to cry as soon as her mother appeared.
Even though she was a few months older than Fatima, she always felt like Fatima was the mother or big sister. She just had that way about her. Rachel stepped gingerly as her cramps intensified. Just before she reached the sliding doors that would take them outside Fatima turned to face her best friend of 19 years.
“Where is Jamie?”
Rachel pressed her lips together, then blurted out, “He doesn’t know, I couldn’t tell him this. He’d kill me if he knew.”
“Why, because he wants one more child for your mother to support?”
“Fatima, come on, you know I work. I take care of my kids.” Rachel had never burdened her mother financially, but did still live in the house where she had grown up.
“Maybe you should start taking care of yourself.” Fatima fired back.
“What did you say to me?” Rachel stepped aside to let a wheelchair enter the lobby.
“Let’s go. I parked out front.”
The two women walked in silence and when Fatima opened the passenger door Rachel slid herself into the garnet coloured Acura MDX with difficulty. She was in so much pain. Why?

Fatima went to the driver’s side and entered the car. She wore designer blue jeans, as usual. She wore a baby pink top and matching headscarf, with pink sunglasses on top of her head. The pink complimented her complexion which matched Rachel’s perfectly. She wore sun glasses year round. She would get headaches if she didn’t. Still she hated them. Fatima always felt like she couldn’t see when she wore them.
They drove most of the way in silence until Rachel couldn’t take it anymore. “Fati, say something.”
“Do you need anything before we get home?” Fatima was a health sciences student, with an eye towards medical school. She knew exactly what Rachel would need.
“I need to pick up this prescription at the pharmacy.” Rachel took out the prescription and held it in her hand. When they arrived in the store parking lot Rachel handed it to Fatima. “Could you get it for me?”
Fatima’s eyes widened and she glared at her friend in astonishment. This was too much for Rachel. She knew what she had done, she was grieving, she was in pain and her best friend in the world thought she was garbage. She crumbled under a heap of hot tears.
“Please Fati, I can’t walk.” She started to sob now as she dropped her hand. She didn’t even care if she got the prescription or not. Indeed she would have been happy to be left on the side of the road. She deserved to suffer and she was not going to fight it. Fatima snatched the paper from her hand and while Rachel fumbled in her purse for money, left the car without saying a word.
Rachel leaned back in the car and let out a big sigh. She was relieved to be alone. She was so grateful to have Fatima as her friend. She knew she was upset with her now, but she still would never let her down. She could always depend on Fatima. They had been best friends since Kindergarten.

Rachel had been new to the neighbourhood and entered school in senior Kindergarten. Her parents had moved around a lot before settling into Fatima’s neighbourhood.
On the first day of school Rachel had been very nervous. The first day of a new school was always the worst. Fatima had been in her class. She had been so small and cute. She walked right up to Rachel and said, “Hi, I’m Fatima. Do you need a friend?” She had known then. And she knew now. She always knew what Rachel needed. She always knew what was going on with her, even when it was not clear to Rachel herself.
The two girls had gelled instantly. They were inseparable. Fatima was the kind of friend that was just like a sister. The kind you loved sometimes and hated sometimes. You just couldn’t stand a day without her, but sometimes wished she would get out of your hair and off your back, at the same time feeling so grateful that she was there. Yes, she loved Fatima, but she had Rachel really ticked off right now. “You just can’t possibly understand,” Rachel said to herself. She hadn’t intentionally made a mess of her life.

“Here you go.” Fatima was back with the medication. “There are two bottles in there. The little pink ones you take twice a day 12 hours apart and the large white ones you take three times a day with meals. The insert will give you all the details.” Fatima was behind the wheel again.
“I don’t know what you’re all puffed up about. I only asked you for a ride home.” Rachel was hurt and embarrassed but needed to hear Fatima talk. Even if she was angry it was better than the silence.
“Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?” Fatima asked softly.
“Would you have come?”
“That’s beside the point.” Fatima said.
“That is the point.” Rachel laughed at her friend indignantly as she wiped away the last of her tears. She needed someone and Fatima was the only one she could call. Fatima knew it.
Fatima sighed. Her voice was even more gentle than before. “What about before today. Why didn’t you tell us you were pregnant?”
Rachel looked down at Fatima’s expanding middle. “I didn’t want to bring you into my problems.”
“It didn’t have to be a problem. We’re all here for you. We love you. We would have worked it out. We would have helped you, Rachel” Fatima said. She stopped at a red light. Pedestrians started to cross the street. Two women were pushing strollers and another elderly man was walking with two toddlers in a wagon. Where did all these kids come from? Rachel wondered.
Rachel wrinkled her brow and scowled. “We? You mean you, your husband and your truckload of kids? I think you have enough to deal with.”
“You know it’s not like that.”
“It’s been done. Just forget it.”
“I know it’s not the time, but we will talk about this.”
“Yah, whatever.”
Rachel closed her eyes and leaned back and tried not to think about the pain. I deserve it. She thought to herself. I’ll probably be infertile after this. Why she was thinking about fertility when she was the single mother of two boys was beyond her. Maybe she still had the dream of meeting Prince Charming. Maybe then she could have a family of her own, a real family, like Fatima.
She thought about everything Fatima had said. She knew she had given Fatima a hard time but Fatima was right. Rachel could have turned to them, all of them. She knew that. But how could she tell her why she hadn’t? How could she tell her that she was so ashamed that they were both pregnant but under such different circumstances?
How could she expect Fatima to understand while she excitedly made plans for her baby with her beloved husband, that Rachel was pregnant again? No she just couldn’t tell her. She had made the only decision that she could. She needed to block Jamie from her life. She couldn’t allow him to have any excuse to come around more than he had to.
“When did all this happen anyway?” Fatima was talking again, and Rachel really could not take anymore.
Rachel exhaled and rolled her eyes under her closed lids. “I thought you said this wasn’t the time?”
“Answer me Rachel. I haven’t seen Jamie in months.”
“Yes, it’s been a while.” Rachel sighed heavily and braced herself for what was coming.
The full realization of what Rachel was saying started to sink in. Fatima hadn’t seen Jamie in the neighbourhood since December. It had been at least four months. Fatima glared at her friend in shock. “Why did you wait so long?” Fatima could barely whisper.
“Hey, keep your eyes on the road.” Rachel was eager to change the subject.
“Why, Rachel?” Fatima gripped the steering wheel and signalled.
“I didn’t know for a while. Then I didn’t know what I wanted to do.”
Fatima pulled the car into a gas station and parked. “What are you doing?” Rachel asked.
Fatima put her hand on her own abdomen and dropped her head as tears welled up in her eyes. “You should have come to us. We would have helped you. I mean, you came this far, why not just have the baby? We would have helped you. Rachel, you know we would have helped you.”
Fatima was crying now. She was always so emotional when pregnant, but she rarely cried. Rachel knew she was heart-broken, and she was feeling guilty about involving her, but she wasn’t going to let her get the best of her. She wasn’t going to break down again. She had been through enough.
“Please, I don’t need this now.” Rachel ran her fingers through her hair clutching the roots and looked out the window to try and remain composed. It was a sunny day and many people were out walking. Her eye rested on another mother pushing a stroller. I wonder if she’s happy.
“You? You? Is it always just about you? You had no right!” Fatima was having difficulty containing her anger.
Rachel was angry too. “Excuse me? Who has the right then? It’s my life, my body.”
“You’re sitting in my car talking about your life? Didn’t you call me to pick you up? Doesn’t your life affect everyone around you? You don’t live in a bubble. You have a lot of talk for someone who couldn’t even find her own way home.”
Rachel avoided looking at Fatima, and did not respond.
Fatima continued. “You want to talk about your right? You had the right to use your head. You had the right to choose smartly. You had the right not to throw yourself around and abuse yourself! You had the right to make choices that were good for you long before today.” Fatima was sobbing now. Her head was in her hands, her elbows resting on the wheel. “You had no right. You had no right.”
People were starting to look inside the car as they passed by, but Rachel rolled on without a second thought. Fatima just didn’t know who Jamie was. “That’s fine for you to say, Miss. Perfect Life. Sorry I don’t have the ideal professional-basketball-playing husband to take care of me.”
“Give it up! You’re no different from me. You chose your path. I can’t believe you could do this. Is it even legal this late?”
“Uh, well it was in a hospital.” Rachel snapped back. Fatima started up the car.
“This is disgusting. This is disgusting. I can’t even hear this.” She pulled the car into traffic.
“Fatima please I’m sorry, I can’t handle this now. I just want to go home.” Rachel was crying again too. She was not surprised at this kind of reaction. She hated involving Fatima, but she had had no choice. She had no one else to call.

“Does your mother know about this?” Fatima’s voice was softer now and she kept her eyes and head straight ahead. The traffic was getting heavy now as they were getting closer to rush hour.
“What? Mrs. Thou shalt burn in hell? I don’t think so.”
“You really underestimate Naomi. She is more understanding than you think.”
Rachel fanned her hand in front of her face. That was a signal to Fatima that she had had enough. She was finished now. She had no more energy for this topic.

They turned onto their street, the street they had both grown up on. It was early April and the mature trees that lined the street were budding. There had been heavy rains in the last week and the sprawling lawns were green. Many houses had early spring flowers already in their gardens. The neighbourhood had primarily older residents and the lawns were always well kept. Most of the children had grown up and moved away. Houses didn’t often go for sale on this street.
Rachel and Fatima had lived two houses away from each other, Rachel at 108 and Fatima at 112. A few years after Rachel had moved in another family had moved in to number 110, with a boy that was destined to come between them forever.

“Hey, I thought Ali was away?” Rachel had spotted Ali in his driveway stepping out of his black Range Rover. Ali and Fatima had married shortly after Fatima’s high school graduation. Ali had already been playing basketball for one year and had bought the house across the street. They both wanted to stay close to their parents. Fatima always said she wanted her children to be close to their grandparents and with Ali on the road so much, it was a big help. If Fatima wanted to travel with him their three girls had more than enough people to take care of them.
“Actually, I thought he was coming back on Friday.” Fatima said, as she pulled into Rachel’s circular driveway and curved around the flower bed island.
“Hmph. Maybe he’s checking up on you. No telling what you’re bound to do with your growing belly and all.” Rachel was joking, but Fatima didn’t laugh. Ali had noticed them and stood waiting in his driveway for Fatima.
Fatima temporarily put the car in park in Rachel’s driveway; the same driveway that they had played hopscotch and spud in thousands of times. In spite of her anger Rachel sensed that Fatima was happy to be there for her. She did seem happiest when caring for others.
After Rachel left the car, Fatima continued around the island and drove forward into her own driveway. Rachel slowly walked towards her front door. Yes, she had made some bad decisions in her life. One really. Jamie. She just kept on paying for it. She couldn’t change the past. She had to deal with the present. The abortions were history. There was nothing to do but take care of herself and her sons. Whatever decisions she made had been best for her. She was sure of that.
Rachel paused before she reached her front door. The street was quite and she could hear Ali and Fatima’s conversation. She knew Fatima would not tell Ali anything about the events of the day, but she still felt compelled to listen anyway.

“As-salaam alaikum,” Fatima greeted her husband. “Am I confused, or are you home early?”
“Wa alaikum as-salaam. Wa rahmatullahi wa barakatu. Is everything ok?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.” Fatima responded.
“Change of plans.” Ali looked past Fatima across the street.
Fatima usually kept abreast of Ali's schedule but with her own exams coming up and being in the last trimester of her pregnancy she had been too pre-occupied.
“I didn’t sleep too well last night. You sure everything is ok?” Ali’s gaze settled back on Fatima.
“Everything’s fine.” Fatima turned to look across the street at Rachel. The two women’s eyes met before they turned away and entered their homes.

Once inside her door Rachel leaned against the heavy wood frame. She hated this house since her father had died. Nothing was the same anymore. She felt like she was on a fast downward spiral. What had really happened to her today? How is it she had made a promise to herself that she could not keep? She had promised she would never terminate another pregnancy. Yet she had. Who was she really? She knew Jamie would come around some time, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, maybe weeks from now. He would continue to float in and out of her life until she put a stop to it. She was definitely ready to end it. She had been at the lowest point in her life today. Things had to change.

The Hook

When Rachel and Fatima face their own unique challenges, they are forced to confront painful personal issues and to examine the unique relationship that they both have with Fatima's husband, Ali.



Best friends since Kindergarten, nothing has ever come between Rachel and Fatima. They have maneuvered through differences in faith, through birth, death, sickness, absent parents, abusive relationships and the day to day challenges of raising their children, all on the same street.
Will the man of their dreams, their childhood friend, Ali who is now Fatima's husband, finally be the force that tears them apart?
While Rachel battles her jealousy and works to move successfully into her own satisfying life, she finds and develops her own faith along the way. Through her struggles she is challenged to support her friend Fatima rise above her own insecurities to keep her marriage intact.
As Fatima recognizes the changing dynamics of their relationship she must decide what will become of the three that started out as friends.