CHAPTER SEVEN

Ali stared at the paper in his hand.
Fatima was speechless. She couldn’t even think of what to say. She just prayed he would have some explanation to make this all go away.
“What is this?” Ali looked up.
“Can’t you see what it is?” Fatima pressed her temples with her finger tips.
“This was in my drawer?” Ali asked.
“This is the letter that came on Friday. The one you took and obviously put in your drawer.” Fatima could not believe he was going to act like he didn’t know what he was looking at.
“I never saw this.” He said shaking his head.
“Ok, so it walked to your drawer.” Fatima’s level of frustration was growing.
“No, I mean I took the mail to our room to read it and then the girls woke up so I just put all the mail in the drawer. I never actually read anything.”
“It’s open Ali.” Fatima linked her fingers behind her head and leaned back into her chair.
“Where is the envelope?” he asked.
Fatima showed him the envelope on her desk. “It’s right here.”
Ali took it from Fatima. “I would open mail like this? Obviously the kids opened it. Fatima, this is the first time I’m seeing this, really.”
“Ok whatever, that’s beside the point.” Fatima fanned her hand in the air. “What’s this about a paternity suit?”
“I have no idea what this is about.” Ali looked at the letter again. “I can’t believe this.”
“That’s not exactly what I need to hear right now.”
“Fatima this is not even possible. This is crazy. You have to know that. It’s obviously a mistake.”
Fatima inhaled and exhaled heavily. She got up and started to pace the floor. She passed the sun shaped mirror on the wall above the fire place. She could see Ali’s reflection in it. He looked distressed as she would expect, but he wasn’t saying anything that was helping her at this moment.
“Fatima, come on sit down. Please don’t be upset by this. You don’t think for one second that this could be true?” Ali asked.
“Oh well I don’t know, lawyers offices don’t usually send out mail notifying law suits that have no validity. This is a reputable law firm. They’re not going to risk their reputation on some nut case. They have to do interviews and see evidence. They need to do some investigation before they take on a case like this. You’re not some Joe Blow. You are a well known athlete; with money. They’re not going to take a chance like this, Ali.”
“I know. I know.” Ali’s voice was almost a whisper.
“So what are you saying?” Fatima asked him. “This is some crazy woman who forgot who her child’s father is and just woke up and decided it should be you?” Fatima was starting to feel light headed.
“Of course not.” His voice was gentle. “Fatima, I hate what this is doing to you. You should calm down. Let me get you some water.”
“Don’t patronize me. I’m fine. I don’t need water. I just need some answers right now.”
“I wish I had answers for you. I don’t understand this at all. I have no clue what’s behind this. I’ll call Shawn in the morning and deal with this.”
Shawn was Ali’s childhood friend. He was a diligent and focussed young lawyer who had quickly worked his way up to one of the top law firms in Toronto. Many firms had been vying for him and he had decided to work for a small but busy firm just outside of the downtown area.
“You will deal with this. Oh so easy.” Fatima sat back in her chair.
“Fatima, I don’t know who this woman is, and even if I did her child can’t be mine.” He pointed towards the door leading to the basement. “I have three children and they’re all downstairs.” Ali stated in a voice so calm Fatima wondered if they were really discussing the same subject.
“Think Ali, think.”
Ali's face dropped. “About what? There is only you. No one else. Not before you and not after you. Fatima, I don’t have to think about that.” Fatima knew she should believe him, but with this letter in front of her how could she?
“Why not call Shawn now?” Fatima looked at Ali hopefully. She needed some answers.
“It’s Sunday and he’s gone to a wedding.” Ali reached out to touch Fatima’s arm in a reassuring gesture. She pulled away.
“He has a cell phone.”
“Fatima, I understand how you feel,” Ali moved closer to her, “but he can’t do anything about it today. Really, I’ll talk to him in the morning.”
“Well, I’m happy you’re taking it so lightly.” Fatima stepped around him and sat on the steps leading to the upper level.
“I’m not taking it lightly. You think I’m taking this lightly? I have a family. My wife is pregnant and we get this.” Ali shook the letter in his hand. “I see this as a threat to my family. Trust me I’m not taking this lightly, but I don’t know anything more than what is on this paper.” He looked at Fatima and added “and that I don’t have any kids except ours.”
“Why do you think someone would do something like this?” Fatima asked.
Ali sat down on the chair that Fatima had left vacant and leaned forward resting his forearms on his knees, “I don’t want to speculate. I don’t know what to think. I’ll speak to Shawn tomorrow and see where we go from here.”
“So you didn’t know about this letter, but the law office just happens to be in Ottawa and that is where you happened to go the other night and couldn’t tell me? Do you think it’s reasonable for me not to draw a connection?”
“My trip had nothing to do with this.”
“Oh that’s wonderful!” Fatima threw her hands up in the air. “More surprises. Do you realize how this is looking to me?”
“Of course I do, but Fatima there is no way this can be true. I have never heard this woman’s name before today. I don’t know her, or any other woman for that matter and I’m going to get to the bottom of it starting tomorrow. I promise you.”
Fatima held her head up. “It’s a boy.”
“What?” Ali jerked his head.
“The child in question is a boy. Look at the letter.” Fatima pointed at the paper in Ali’s hand.
“It has nothing to do with me,” Ali said ignoring the letter and keeping his attention on Fatima.
“Well, apparently it does because the letter is addressed to you,” she snapped.
“It’s not my boy, Fatima.” Ali stood and moved toward her, but Fatima held him at arm’s length. He continued speaking. “Listen I get it ok, it’s disturbing news. It’s enough to jack up anybody, never mind when you’re pregnant.”
Fatima refused to answer him. She wasn’t quite sure what she wanted him to say, but she knew what he was offering was not enough.
He sighed and closed his eyes. “I know how hard it is for you to be married to me. I do. I’m on the road constantly while you’re alone at home with the girls. Or you have to rearrange your life to travel with me. I know it’s not easy. It’s hard for me too. Now you’re pregnant. I think about it all the time. Honestly, if I could give you something more, you know I would. This is as shocking to me as it is to you.”
“The name doesn’t ring a bell at all?”
“No Fatima,” he insisted. Ali sat down again and turned his attention back to the letter.
“Swear to me.”
As soon as the words left her mouth she realized the impact that they would have. Swearing was a very serious thing and strongly disapproved of in Islam. In addition to that, the suggestion that she didn’t believe him would be very serious to him. Ali squinted and knit his brow as he absorbed the meaning of her words. “Fatima-” he started.
“Forget it,” Fatima interrupted him, flashing her hand in his direction.
“You know what,” Ali exhaled and rose to his feet. “I’m going to call Shawn. At least I can leave a message.”
“Thank you, Ali.” Fatima finally felt some relief. At least he was taking some action.

Ali disappeared to the upper levels of the house. She knew he was offended at the suggestion that she didn’t believe what he had said. One thing that Ali took very seriously was any suggestion that he may be lying. If he said it was so, he expected you to take him at his word. He always gave people the benefit of the doubt until he knew different. She was sounding like she doubted him and she knew that was a serious thing to him.
What did he expect? There were definitely some missing pieces here. After all, this was all being dumped in her lap. She didn’t go looking for it. She had exams in two weeks and all this was now on her head. She felt her baby moving as her body started to relax and her breathing returned to normal. What affect was all this having on her child? She was seriously stressed out. She knew she should trust him, but she could not get rid of that nagging feeling that something bad, very bad was going to happen.
Really, how could someone think of accusing the wrong person of fathering their child? DNA would prove them to be a liar, so what could be gained by filing a false claim? There was still the matter of Ottawa; if it wasn’t about this case then what was it about? What was so urgent and secret?
True, Ali had never given her any reason to doubt him at all. He was always sincere, almost transparent. That’s why she had married him. She had always felt so secure with him. It was something she had lacked growing up. She remembered her childhood and Ali as a boy. He never lied, even when he knew it meant he would be in trouble.
From their first meeting Fatima had spent most of her free time in the Abati household. She didn’t have any brothers or sisters. Rachel was like a sister to her. Rachel had had an older brother and sister, but they never paid much attention to the two girls. Fatima’s mom Dana was working all the time and her father who had separated from Dana when Fatima was small was not very involved in Fatima’s life.
Fatima was left on her own a lot. The Abati home had had a sense of comfort in it. She had not realized then but the family had been through the worst experience possible yet they were still warm and loving, happy and always giving to others.
When they had moved in they had introduced themselves to all the neighbours and had become the parents of all the neighbourhood children. Their door was usually unlocked during the day; people were always in and out of their home.
Ali had been a quiet child. He was a good student but had put most of his spare time and energy into sports. Fatima later realized that it had been an outlet for him. He held a lot of pain inside and it was a way for him to release it. He had lost his grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, neighbours and friends. Fatima shuddered at the thought.
What if her girls had lost Mama and Papa, Rahma, Naomi, Rachel, Joshua and Jonah in one sweep? How would they function? How could they ever be happy again? Could they have any joy in life? How could they ever love or trust again?
Fortunately, Mama and Papa had been strong. They had built a life that was stable and full of love for Ali. Routine was an important part of their life. Mama was a smart woman and she had insisted that it was what he needed to feel secure. He had had all security ripped away from him and she had worked very hard to recreate that feeling in his life. So he had healed.
Or so Fatima had thought, but sometimes she could see the old pain. Sometimes he would sit for long periods of time and just stare. She never asked him what he was thinking about. She was afraid to know. She wanted to be supportive, but she just couldn’t bear to hear about the horrors that she imagined he had been through. She felt guilty about it sometimes, like perhaps she was letting him down by not being there for him completely.
Still he was always pleasant, positive, warm and kind to everyone. He had once told her that focussing on others helped him to feel alive. It blocked the pain and gave him an excuse not to think about himself. He had been a man even then, and was deeply affected by the fact that he could not stop what had happened to his family in Rwanda. He had vowed that he would never allow something like that to happen again.
At school he had not taken many close friends; he was friendly with everyone but when he left school he preferred to be alone. His classmates always wanted to play with him and the boys frequently wanted to fight with him. They loved to test their strength. Ali would usually refuse, but if he had to he could definitely hold his own.
He had focussed much of his energy on martial arts and had become a four time champion in mixed martial arts. One of his favourite past-times was archery and when he was stressed out he usually spent time in that sport. He had introduced Shawn to it as well so he would have someone to compete with when the mood took him, but he usually went alone.
Yes, he had been an all-round athlete and the passion and drive that he put into sports really moved Fatima. In his daily life he was calm, controlled, pensive, but when he was on the court, in the pool or on any kind of field he changed. Another person emerged. He was aggressive and intense. It made Fatima wonder about the emotions that he kept inside.
Well, Fatima thought, it was good that he released his emotions somehow. His parents had tried to get counselling for him, but he had refused to talk to any counsellor, at all. He said he didn’t need it. But he used to talk to Fatima and Rachel, never about the past but about his future, all his plans. He talked about how he was going to take care of his parents and his family when he had one. Fatima had wanted to take care of him even then. He had seemed so sad to her. Taking care of his family had been so important to him. He wanted to make up for what he had lost.
He had been serious and disciplined from that time. His parents had given him a lot of freedom because they trusted him. Indeed he was always where he said he was going to be and doing what he said he was going to be doing. He was never one to hang out. He took care of his business and went home. If his parents had said no to him concerning something he wanted, he accepted it. During his teenage years when most kids were going through internal and external turmoil he just played harder. He poured all his excess energy into sports.
Papa had often taken Rachel and Fatima to his events and the two girls became influenced by his activities. They had wanted to be athletes too. Rachel had taken up swimming and had been on a swim team throughout high school. Fatima had loved running and martial arts. Most of her training had come from Ali. He had started teaching when he was 16.
He had insisted that she pursue at least one form and she had received a black belt in tae kwon do by the age of 18. Ali was not satisfied. He wanted her to be proficient in a variety of forms and he continued to train her. He allowed her three months rest after she had her babies, then it was back to work. He had already started training his daughters. It was very important to him that they had the confidence to stand up for themselves when necessary. He knew he wasn’t going to be there always to protect them and the thought seemed to disturb him sometimes.

Fatima walked to the French doors that faced the backyard. They were framed by matching window panes. She stepped into the bay and looked out at the two fountains and the birds that always danced in the water. She remembered the day her mother had told her that Ali wanted to marry her. He had told his parents of his intentions and they had spoken to her mother. Dana definitely thought Fatima was too young. Ali’s father had convinced Dana that they were good kids and that if Ali could prove that he was responsible then he would give his blessings. They would support the young couple and Papa believed they would be fine. “It’s better to be with one than many,” he had said.
It had not been hard for Fatima’s mom to accept Ali, she had loved him already. He was so different from the other boys. Because he was two years older than Rachel and Fatima she had always felt the girls were very safe when they were with him.
In the end when Dana had seen the path that Rachel had taken and what had happened to her and Jamie she realized that early marriage and family was not the worst that could happen to a girl. Rachel’s children had been born close to Fatima’s. Joshua was just three months younger than Masuma and Jonah had followed soon after.
Ali had prepared well for his marriage with Fatima. When he had the chance to play professionally it was an opportunity he couldn’t refuse. The freedom and income it would give him would enable him to do all the things he had dreamed of.
He had adjusted well to playing professional basketball and he and his father had bonded in the year that they had travelled together. Papa said he was truly proud of the way Ali had handled himself. His prayers were always on time. It was in his contract that he be given time to pray wherever he was. He never played on the days of Eid or on the 10th of Muharram. The other players had grown to love him too and respect his commitment to his values.
They often congregated in Ali’s room after games if they wanted to get away from the pressures of the road. They knew it was a place where they could find peace and be free to be themselves. They had enjoyed hanging out with Papa and Ali. Papa had said many of them had not had fathers themselves and had appreciated his presence and guidance. Nowadays many of the players, even the ones much older than Ali confided in him and sought advice from him.
Ali had saved most of his money and bought the house across the street so they could remain close to their families. Since Fatima’s mother was an archaeologist, and often travelling, her house remained empty most of the time. Being across the street enabled Ali and Fatima to watch over it.
Naturally Ali could have bought a much bigger and more luxurious house, but securing his future and the future of his family was far more important than enjoying the pleasures of today. He had a comfortable home, they had good cars and nice things, but he was always very careful about the way he spent his money. They had a property about one hour out of town. He and Fatima were looking forward to enjoying it as a getaway when the construction on their home was finished.
The only weakness he had was when it came to his wife. He made sure she had whatever she wanted. Fortunately for him she thought the same way that he did and was focussed on building their future. He always joked that if she had been a more demanding woman he would have been in the poor house.
The first year of their marriage had been pure fun. They had enjoyed travelling together. While most of Fatima’s friends were in university or working, she was travelling across North America with Ali. While her friends were trying to juggle jobs and school and explore new and sometimes dangerous freedoms, she was settled in her beautiful home with her doting husband.
The other players were initially disappointed to hear that Papa was no longer going to be a regular and they wondered how their night-time sessions would be affected now that Ali’s wife was going to be with him. Many of them were not used to being around a woman in hijab and did not know what to expect.
Fatima had immediately put them at ease and had encouraged them to continue to crash with them. Ali always had a room with a separate bedroom so she could have her privacy. The rule was that they could come over anytime. They should call first but if they couldn’t they were welcome to just knock on the door. Fatima saw firsthand the trials of the profession and she wanted them to have a safe place if they needed to get away from it all.
It was really something to see those big tough guys crash on Fatima’s hotel room floor and talk about their deepest feelings fears and wishes. Sure there was a lot of joking and rough housing too, bragging and game commentaries included, but there were many moments of open sharing. Especially when there was only one or two team mates present at a time.
Many of the wives had come to know Fatima as well. On occasion a wife had called her to inquire about her own husband’s conduct. Fatima never revealed anything. She had a standard answer prepared. She always told them that she understood the pressures of the road and she made it a rule not to mind anyone’s business but her own. The players loved her even more for that.
When she had Masuma and couldn’t travel as much they all vowed to keep Ali in line for her. They sometimes even called her to see if she was ok. It was funny the way they treated Ali. They were sometimes just as aware of his duties as he was himself. They reminded him to pray and they always let him know that they had their eye on him.
Because of the stories that Mama had heard about life on the road, she had formed a network with the mothers of some other ball players called Moms Away. It was a network of mothers in various cities. The players knew that if they needed a mom while they were on the road they had one. They could call and talk or get a home cooked meal, or just a safe place to stay. Naturally the Abati home was a favourite.

Now Fatima thought about Ali being upstairs and wondered what he was doing. He must have made the call already. She knew she had hurt him. The worst thing for a Muslim to be was a liar. The suggestion that he may not be telling the truth was like questioning his Deen-religion and that would have been unacceptable to him.
She went down stairs to check the girls. They had fallen asleep. “Oh, poor things.” Fatima’s heart was breaking. “They must have been traumatized,” she whispered. She pulled some blankets over them and climbed the stairs to talk to Ali. She found him in the study in front of the computer.
She walked behind him so she could see the screen. He was looking at a course calendar. He usually took University courses during the summer, either in night school or online. He was pursuing a degree in Leisure and Recreation. Fatima was surprised to see him looking at the calendar now because he had said he wasn’t going to take any courses this year. “I thought you weren’t going to study this summer,” she said.
“I reconsidered,” Ali answered without turning around.
“Ali.”
“Fatima,” he replied, while keeping his eyes on the screen.
“It’s never hard for me to be your wife. You’re the most important thing in my life. You are my life. I just get scared sometimes.”
Ali turned around and pulled another chair close to him. He motioned for her to sit. She sat in the chair and waited for his response.
“I can understand that.” He reached for a stool for her to rest her feet on, and continued, “What are you afraid of?”
“Just losing everything.”
“How would that happen?” He leaned forward waiting for her to speak.
“I don’t know. Maybe we’ll grow apart. Maybe one day this baller lifestyle will just transform you and we’ll end up like all the other players and their wives.”
Ali nodded and Fatima could see that he was thinking. He leaned back in his chair.
“What do you think I do when I’m away from home?” he asked.
Fatima shrugged her shoulders. “Play ball?”
“And?” Ali prompted.
Fatima shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“I think. I think about my life, my responsibilities and my girls; all of my girls. I think about you, our babies, my mom, Rahma. My father is not going to be here forever and then it will all be on me. I have to make sure that everyone has what they need, is safe and happy. That’s what I think about, how I’m going to do that, how I’m going to make that happen. Do you really believe I have time to mess with my life, my family, my future?”
“That’s not fair Ali. Don’t flip this on me.” Fatima resented the direction she felt him going in. Now he was making it seem like she was in the wrong. “How do you expect me to react under these circumstances?”
Ali rubbed his face as he watched his wife. “I’m going to be going on the road again in a few days. How can I feel comfortable to do that if you doubt me?”
“I don’t... I’m not... I didn’t... I’m not sure what to think right now.” Fatima was starting to feel drained.
Ali let out a short laugh and stood up. “Do you know how that makes me feel? All of this is for you. My work, the money, the sacrifice, everything is for you. If you’re at home and stressed out about me then it’s not worth it. I had no idea you felt this way. I thought we had an understanding. I thought everything was ok. Now I find out that an accusation from someone we don’t even know can tear it all apart? I must really be doing something wrong.”
“So what now?” Fatima asked.
“Well, I guess that’s on me. I left a message for Shawn to call me immediately and I’m going to move on this letter tomorrow, but it’s not just about the letter. It’s deeper than that. Next time it will be something else. How we handle the next challenge is going to depend on the foundation we have as a couple. That’s what I’m concerned about.”
“Ok. So what are you saying?” Fatima stroked the arms of her chair.
“I’m saying I got a wakeup call today. I realize I just can’t take anything for granted.” He walked around the room.
“I just thought your reaction was kind of strange. You seemed so calm.” Fatima said, following him with her eyes.
“Yes, I’m calm. You know why? Because it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. These issues, these challenges, they come and go. I can handle whatever comes at me. It only matters to me if it affects you. Otherwise I’ll just deal with whatever happens. That’s life.”
Fatima didn’t answer. Hearing him put things like that; she didn’t know what to say.
“Let me ask you this.” Ali sat in his chair again and pulled it forward. “Take this situation for example. What’s the worst thing that can happen? For you what would be the worst thing?”
Fatima thought about it before replying, “Well, if it was true I guess.”
“And so what? So what if it was true, what’s going to happen? Are you going to die? You think Allah can’t get you through it?” Ali asked her.
“What are you saying?” If he was trying to make her feel better, he was taking the wrong approach.
“I’m showing you how I keep things in perspective. If you realize that your worst fear is nothing then you can release the fear. Even if the worst happens, you’ll get through it. Allah wants what’s good for you. Not just good, actually, best. You have to trust Him, Fatima. You don’t need to work everything out for yourself. I don’t even try. I just put it in Allah’s hands and leave it there.”
She felt ashamed. She knew what he was saying was true, and compared to what he had been through in his life, this really was nothing. Why should he freak out?
Ali continued, “The situation is only as bad as you make it.”
“What would be the worst thing for you? In this situation,” Fatima asked him.
“The worst thing would be if it upsets you and if it hurts our marriage.”
“Would you die?” Fatima was teasing him now, but she was still eager to hear his answer.
He gave a half smile. “A part of me would die, yes. But I would take whatever I could learn from it and use it to improve. Part of self-building is being the master of your emotions.”
Fatima remained silent. Ali certainly was getting very good at mastering his emotions. She was having difficulty reading him right now. Was he trying to tell her that she didn’t have anything to worry about or was he saying that she might, but she should choose not to worry? She was not quite sure. She surely did not want to believe that she should worry but she still had that ominous feeling.
Fatima fixed her eyes on Ali. She needed to be able to see the slightest waver when she asked this question. “Do you know what I keep thinking about? That one time, I don’t know maybe it was more than one time, that you asked me to join you on the road and I didn’t go. I thought I couldn’t. I just wasn’t feeling well and I had exams. You just asked me out of the blue and I never asked you why.”
Ali held her gaze. “It was one time and I understood that. It was not a problem.”
“But I never asked you why.” Fatima couldn’t help wondering if she had made a mistake; made a mistake by not going with him, made a mistake by becoming comfortable with him travelling by himself. She remembered the first year that they travelled together. She knew exactly what the dangers were. I have three kids, how can I keep up with him? She sighed. Ali hadn’t wanted to start a family when she did. She had pushed for that.
Ali shook his head. “Why I wanted you to come? There is only one reason and it’s always the same. You’re my wife and I wanted you with me. That’s all. I just missed you. The same as always. There’s nothing else.” Ali held out his hands to emphasize his last statement.
Fatima sighed and stood up. She was well aware how much of ‘nothing’ happened on the road. “Ok Ali, I’m exhausted. I’m going to lie down.”
“What about the girls?” he asked as Fatima walked toward the door.
“They fell asleep in the basement; you can put them in bed if you want. I would just leave them though. I already covered them with a blanket.”
Fatima headed toward her bedroom. Looking over the railing, she caught site of the flowers in the foyer as she walked down the hall. She then turned back. “Ali, you know your mom has been really quiet these last few days.”
Ali turned away but Fatima could see him clench his jaw. “Well, it is April,” he said.
Fatima had forgotten. April was the anniversary of the start of the genocide in Rwanda. Every April Mama became very sombre. Her mood usually lasted for a few weeks. At that time she would pour all her energy into the garden. The summer would show the fruit of all her work. She had the most beautiful garden on the street. “Ali, I forgot, I am so sorry.” She started to walk back toward him, but he held up his hand.
“Don’t worry. Go rest,” he said.
Fatima turned and headed to her room. Before she closed the white double doors she looked towards the study. She could see that Ali had pulled away from the desk, his elbow on his knee. He was rubbing his forehead against the palm of his hand. Now the events of the day really did seem small indeed.

CHAPTER SIX

The next morning when Fatima woke up the sun was shining. She had woken up for Fajr-the first prayer of the day, prayed and gone back to sleep. She had no problem waking up early these days. When she was pregnant she found it very difficult to sleep in and she was usually up bright and early. She had spoken to Ali at that time. He had called from Ottawa at about 6 am.
He had tried to sound normal, but Fatima had thought he sounded preoccupied. She hadn’t asked him about his plans and he didn’t offer any information. He just made sure she was alright and reassured her that he would be back in the evening as he had promised. He wasn’t impressed that she had slept on the couch. “That can’t be comfortable.”
Nothing about this is comfortable, she had wanted to say, but instead she had just said that she had been so tired she really didn’t want to tackle the stairs and she had felt lonely.
“It’s not the same when you’re not here,” she confessed.
“You didn’t look for the notes,” Ali mentioned.
“How do you know?”
“Because I left instructions and if you had found them I would have known.”
Fatima really appreciated these rituals. They made her feel somewhat normal. Even though their life was hectic there were a few things she could always count on. Ali leaving her notes around the house when he travelled was one of them.
He was not a talkative person. She admired that about him. She was impressed with his degree of reserve. He was open with her, but with few words. She had learned to be more silent too as a result. She often had to figure out what he was thinking and feeling by paying attention to his actions as much as his words, what he said and what he didn’t. When he was in the company of others he was more of an observer than a talker.
Fatima detested men who had to be the centre of attention. Her opinion was that if you were talkative, eventually you would say something that you shouldn’t. The more you talked the more likely that was to happen. Ali was rarely in danger of that. When he spoke it was usually valuable otherwise he wouldn’t bother. So she really cherished these little messages that always seemed to be right from the heart. They gave her more insight to the man she shared her life with.
He was right about her not looking for the notes. She was tired yes, but she was upset too. She just didn’t feel like playing with him. She was confused about his behaviour. She had an active imagination and could not help trying to figure out possible reasons for his trip. It was frustrating not to have any good possibilities. Anyway it was daylight now and she would go get her daughters and start the day. It was Saturday and she had no real plan so she would just play it by ear.

When she arrived at number 110 the house seemed uncharacteristically quiet. She tried the door and it was open. It often was at this time of morning. It was April and Mama had a beautiful garden. After Fajr she often spent hours in the garden. The door would be unlocked because she would be coming in and out.
“As-salaam alaikum ya Rasoolullah,” Fatima said as she entered the house. Rahma was the first to greet her. She ran to Fatima, hugged and kissed her using her special name for Fatima, the Italian word for sister.
“As-salaam alaikum, Sorella. We were worried about you. I don’t think Papa slept all night. Come look.”
Fatima followed Rahma into the living room which the family used as a prayer room. There was nothing in it except wall to wall carpet, large cushions lining the walls, two tall book cases at one end of the room and a low table at the other end that held a stand for reading the Holy Quran. The room was painted in a beautiful earth tone and decorated with a few large plants.
“He fell asleep right after Fajr.”
Papa was lying on the floor with the three girls on top of him. Laila and Batool were on his chest and Masuma rested with a pillow on his leg.
“Figures Masuma would think to get comfortable. How were they last night?”
“Fine, they were all played out so they slept pretty well. They got up at Fajr, but I guess they were still tired because they conked out immediately after.” Rahma waved her hand at the sleeping girls.
Fatima stood in the foyer watching them. “I’m torn. Should I wake them or let them sleep?”
“Leave them, for sure. Come, let’s go to the back.”
They went to the back of the house where there was a large sunroom. It was warm and sunny for April and Mama was working in the backyard. The girls laughed and chatted for a while enjoying the fresh morning air. When she heard them Mama left her work and came to keep them company for a while.
“Did you speak to Ali this morning?” Mama removed her gloves and placed them on the chair beside her.
“I did.”
“Hmm. He snuck out of here without seeing me.”
Fatima could tell that she was not pleased, but she didn’t go on. Mama was so careful around Fatima now that she was pregnant. She always insisted that the happiness of a pregnant woman should be the top priority of the family. Every experience, emotion and thought that she had would have a physical manifestation and impact on the unborn child, Mama always said. It became a part of him or her. She always insisted that Fatima should be cared for and stress free during this time.
Rahma quickly changed the subject. “Mama, you should see Papa. He’s sleeping and the girls are all around him. It’s so cute. I should take a picture.”
Mama smiled. “You know I think he was in that room all night. He said he couldn’t sleep knowing you were alone. I had to pry his shoes off.”
“As-salaam alaikum, Piccolina.” Papa had called Fatima Piccolina, little doll, from the first time he had met her. He entered the sunroom and stood beside Fatima’s chair.
Wa alaikum as-salaam, Papa. I’m not so tiny any more. I think I grew overnight.”
“Yes, I see, but you are still a doll. Come sta lei, mio caro?-How are you my dear?”
“Alhamdulillah,I’m ok, thanks.”
“So, when is your husband coming back?” Mama asked.
“Mama, you know he said this evening,” Papa replied and gave her a scolding look.
“Well, I wanted to hear from his wife, since he didn’t bother to tell his mother anything.” Mama pursed her lips, showing her discontent.
“Oh Mama, he didn’t want you to worry.” Papa hugged Mama and gave Fatima and Rahma a wink.
Fatima realized in that moment how much Ali was like his father and she was grateful that he had such a good role model.
“He’s a grown man. He’ll be just fine.” Papa added.
Mama sat at the wrought iron table. “It’s not nice to leave Fatima like this. She’s due any minute. He spends enough time away as it is.” Fatima could see the wheels in Mama’s head turning. She wasn’t saying much, but Fatima knew she was running through all the possibilities, just as she had. The thought made her uncomfortable.
Papa insisted, “We’re all here. She has everything she needs.”
“Except her husband.”
“What are you all doing today?” Fatima wanted to talk about anything but Ali’s absence.
Papa rubbed his greying head and sighed. “I have a lot of work to do.”
Papa worked for a non-profit organization called Children of Rwanda. It was based in his homeland, Italy, but he was able to do much of his work by internet and on the phone. During the massacre many Rwandan children had been air lifted to Italy and placed in homes with Italian families.
Many had been adopted and in the years after the massacre the Italian and Rwandan governments had ongoing negotiations about the status of the children. Rwanda said the adoptions were illegal. The Italian families had no permission from family members or the government to adopt the children. Italy had insisted that the adoptions were in order.
Unfortunately many of the children had no family to return to. Some of them did have families that had demanded their children back. Having left as babies many of the children knew only the Italian families as their own. It had been a very sensitive situation.
In the years since the genocide many children had been returned and many had remained in their adopted families after returning to Rwanda to perform the adoptions satisfactorily. Still there were ongoing issues, such as maintaining cultural identity, keeping in contact with living family members, trips home and dealing with the integration of the Rwandan children into Italian society.
Hundreds of thousands of children had been orphaned following the 1994 genocide, according to statistics from the Ministry of Gender in Rwanda. The number of children in Rwanda who had been orphaned or were otherwise considered vulnerable was anywhere from one to three million. Papa was currently working on an assessment to determine the number of children living on the streets and their needs.
Papa had been active in the cause from the beginning and continued to build a large organization that also offered sponsorship and support to children in Rwanda and their families.

“You know what I have to say about that.” Mama’s eyes sparkled.
“Yes Mama.” They all repeated Mama’s famous line, “If they want African babies let them make their own.”
“Not everyone is as lucky as me,” Papa was always quick to reply.
He was lucky indeed. Italy had one of the lowest birth rates in the world, with two children and a fourth grandchild on the way, Papa was rich beyond imagination.

Fatima spent the day with the family, talking to Rahma and watching her daughters play in the yard. She even helped Mama with some of the gardening, as much as she was allowed.
It was still early to start planting, but Mama would get the soil ready and spend time in her greenhouse where she had seedlings waiting to be transplanted when the fear of frost was gone.
Fatima couldn’t think of going back home right now. The day flew by quickly and when Papa emerged from his study Fatima couldn’t believe that it was already 4 pm. Ali would be home soon.
“Mama, maybe I should go home now and wait for Ali.”
“Why not eat with us, and then go? It’s only another hour. Go and have a nap. I’ll wake you when he gets here.”
“Are you sure? The girls are pretty wound up. I don’t want to leave all that work on you.”
“Papa is free now. You know him. He’s at their service. Go, they won’t even miss you.” Mama was right. Fatima looked out the window to the back yard. Papa was already there chasing the girls around. They were squealing as they ran around the back yard. Papa still walked with a slight limp from his injury during the genocide. He was not able to run too fast. The girls didn’t know the difference. They just knew that he was with them and he was all theirs.
Fatima went into the guest bedroom on the main floor behind the kitchen. This is where she usually slept when she stayed over. It was hard to get comfortable but she would try. Ali must have been in the room recently because his scent was on the bedding. She sank into the pillow and took comfort in knowing that when she woke up he would likely be home.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” Fatima woke up to the sound of her daughters voices. Ali had arrived and they were thrilled. They had not seen him since yesterday afternoon. Fatima sometimes worried about the effect having their father absent so often, would have on them. During the regular season he was typically away from home for at least 100 days. It was a significant amount of time for the girls and for Fatima. Sometimes it put a heavy strain on family life.
Ali and Fatima had recently been discussing his possible departure from the league. Ali felt that he needed to spend more time with their daughters and if Fatima decided to pursue a degree in medicine the girls would definitely need one full time parent. He was thinking of developing a camp and recreation site on the land that they owned. Work was already being done on a home for their family.
Fatima came out of the bedroom. She stood and watched Ali interact with his family for a few seconds.
He had the same easy comfort with everyone wherever he was. It was as though he belonged everywhere. Ali stood beside his father. Papa was a tall man but Ali had grown past him by the time he was 17. He really did look like his father, a younger darker version of Papa. They both had strong lean features, a firm jaw, serious eyes and an easy smile.
The family were all so happy to see him. Rahma jumped and hugged him around his neck. Masuma and Batool hugged one leg each.
“Where’s Laila?” Ali asked.
“She ran to hide as soon as she heard you. I think she wants you to find her,” Rahma answered.
Ali bent over, peeled Batool and Masuma off his legs and removed his shoes. “Ok, well I better get on it before she falls asleep somewhere.”
“That certainly has happened before,” Fatima interjected.
Ali noticed her standing in the doorway of the guest room for the first time. “Fatima, as-salaam alaikum, how are you?” Ali greeted her.
“Wa alaikum as-salaam, I’m good. And you?” She replied. Why does this moment feel so awkward? Fatima wondered. She hated everything about the last 24 hours. Quickly she decided to put everything out of her mind and enjoy her evening. Worrying never helped in any case. Ali was home now, they were all together and whatever was happening outside would remain there at least for tonight.
“Great. Glad to be home. I think we should find Laila,” Ali said
Fatima laughed. “For sure, I’m right behind you.”
“You know I can’t wait for you.” He teased her about her slow movements. Ali always had a way of interjecting humour even in the most serious moments. It was good. It was good to have someone to lighten things up once in a while. They searched for Laila and found her in a doll house in the family room. Just like the others she was thrilled to see her father.
Laila and Batool the three year old twins, were replicas of their mother while Masuma looked like Ali. At five years old she took her role as elder sister very seriously. She often tried to be bossy, but the twins would not allow her to get the best of them. Laila always wanted to play and was often up to some mischief. Batool was very helpful. She needed to make sure everything was in order. She also loved to eat. She always headed straight for the kitchen when arriving at Mama’s house or anyone’s house for that matter.
Ali sat with Laila on the carpeted floor for a few minutes and played with her. Fatima looked around the family room. It was filled with books, toys and dozens of Ali’s trophies and medals. He had outstanding achievement in archery, judo, tae kwon do, mixed martial arts, swimming, track and field and of course basketball. Fatima had wanted to keep some of them at their home, but Ali had refused.
“Do you think she planned this, to get you alone, all to herself?” Fatima sat on an exercise ball.
Ali rolled over taking Laila with him. “Do I think? I’m sure.” He didn’t seem to mind. It really warmed Fatima’s heart to see him interact with their children. At moments like these she couldn’t help but think of Rachel. She didn’t have any of this. Her boys didn’t have this. Yes, they all loved Rachel and her family and were there for them, but it couldn’t be the same.
“How is Rachel doing?” Ali asked.
“What?” Fatima was surprised. He seemed to read her mind.
“Rachel. I’ve been thinking about her. She hasn’t been looking well,” Ali replied.
“You noticed?”
“Yes, I noticed.”
“Oh, well, you know woman stuff.” Fatima tried to make light of the situation.
“No I don’t.” Ali was not prepared to give up that easily.
“Well, she’ll be ok. She has me.”
Ali nodded. “You look tired. I should take you home,” he decided.
“No, your mom made dinner. We have to eat first, we can’t leave now. She waited for you.” Fatima stopped her movement on the ball.
“Yes, Ma’am, whatever you say.” Ali rose to his feet with Laila in his arms.
They made their way back to the kitchen. “You’re in trouble you know,” Fatima said.
“Me? Why?” Ali was truly surprised.
“Mama’s upset you didn’t tell her you were going.” Fatima watched closely for Ali’s reaction.
“She didn’t say anything to me.” Ali stopped in the hallway before reaching the kitchen.
“You know she wouldn’t in front of me.”
Ali looked pensive for a moment, and then smiled. “It’s ok. I’ll make it up. I know how to take care of her.”
“Daddy what did you bring?” Laila turned Ali’s face so he could only look directly at her.
“You’ll have to wait until you get home to find out.” He nipped her forearm and when she pulled it back he gave her a kiss on her neck.
“You had time to shop?” Fatima realized he had a very tight schedule and couldn’t imagine he would have time to do anything extra.
Ali looked down at her. “I made time.”
They arrived at the kitchen and Ali paused to allow Fatima to pass him and take her seat at the table. He placed Laila in her seat beside her grandfather and took his seat beside Fatima and his mother. They had a pleasant dinner. They laughed and talked about the girls, Rahma’s studies and her plans for the summer. They guessed about the exact birth date and weight of the baby, and they suggested possible names. No one mentioned Ali’s trip. When they finished dinner Ali and Fatima said goodnight and took their children home.

Ali had bought three dolls for his daughters. Each doll had one child’s name stitched on the front of its dress.
“I can’t believe you had time to do this. They’re beautiful.” Fatima was truly touched.
The girls danced around their parents’ room with their dolls. Fatima watched them and was so happy for their joy. She remembered how much she had wanted this kind of attention from her own father. It never came.
He had always wanted a son and Fatima had felt that if she had been a boy maybe he would have stayed. She had tried to show interest in the things her father loved, but he just didn’t think cars and sports were for girls. It was too bad, because she really was interested.
She had taken mechanics in high school and was one of the best in her class. She could fix just about anything in or outside of the house, although Ali never let her. Her dad just couldn’t see past the fact that she wasn’t a boy. Or so she thought.
He lived in British Columbia now and though they talked often enough, she was hurt that he never visited her after any of the girls were born. She was sure if she had had a boy he would have come.
“And for you,” Ali handed Fatima a gift bag. She recognized the scent immediately.
“Rose oil, thank you so much.” It was 500 ml of pure essential oil. “Ali, it’s too much. It must have been so expensive,” Fatima insisted.
“Do you like it?” Ali asked.
“Of course, I love it. You know I do.” Rose was Fatima’s favourite scent and one that she usually kept in the house in some form, whether in the form of flowers, oil or spray.
“Then that’s all that matters.” Laila stayed close to him, weaving in and out of his legs, while he stroked her head.
“Open it Mommy, open it.” Fatima opened the bottle and the smell filled the room. She put one drop on a tissue and waved it in the air. The girls wanted some on them so Fatima opened her drawer and pulled out a bottle of almond oil. She put a few drops in her palm. She took one drop of the rose oil and mixed them together. She touched the mixture, rubbed her fingers together and touched each girl behind each of their ears.
Ali watched from the doorway. “Ok, the party’s over little ones. It’s time for bed.”
“Daddy can we have a bedtime story?”
“Go pick one. I’ll be there in a minute.” He turned back to Fatima. “I’ll be just a few minutes.”
“Take your time.”
“Can you read The Night Prayers?” Fatima could hear the girls asking. It was their favourite story and they asked for it almost every night.
“Sure. In bed you go.” Ali followed them into their room.
Fatima prepared herself for bed. She showered and mixed some more of the rose oil in a small bottle she kept in her drawer. It was so soothing for her stretched skin and the smell was incredible. She felt elated instantly.
She adjusted her pillow and when she slipped her hand underneath she felt a small piece of paper. She knew it was one of the notes Ali had left for her yesterday. She was ready to read it now. She pulled out the paper. Call me it read. She suddenly felt sad thinking of Ali waiting for her call that never came.
“They fell asleep before I even finished.” Ali had returned to their room.
“Lucky you. They wear me out with their stories,” Fatima said.
“Hey, look what I got for Josh and Jonah.” Ali pulled out two identical soccer balls.
“Uh, how many kids do you have again?” Fatima was smiling. She was pleased that he loved Rachel’s boys. They really needed him.
“Believe me sometimes I wonder myself,” he replied with a smile.
“Do you wish they were basketballs instead?” Fatima inquired.
“Well, they’re still a little short for that game. I figure I’ll warm them up and switch them over later.” Fatima knew he was joking.
She couldn’t help but notice how Ali beamed when he talked about Joshua and Jonah and their sports activities. She knew she shouldn’t but she had to ask. “Do you ever wish you had a boy?”
“What do you mean, instead of the girls?” Ali sat down on the edge of their bed.
“Yes.” Fatima really wondered how he would answer.
“What are you talking about? Of course not. Where is this coming from?” Ali wrinkled his brow.
“I don’t know. You’re so into Joshua and Jonah, I just wondered if you ever thought about it.”
“Well, I guess most men would like to have a son and the first time sure I thought about it. Not since then. It’s such a gift to have these children, any children, am I going to quibble about boy or girl? It really doesn’t matter to me, anymore. Allah gives us what is best. He is All-Knowing, All-Wise. Who am I to suggest that He is wrong? How rude could I be?” Ali suddenly became sombre. “You know what my family has been through. Just to have healthy, happy, safe kids means more to me than anything else.”
“Are you sure?” Fatima could not get her father out of her mind.
“Fatima, I would not trade one of my daughters for a thousand sons, I promise you.”
“Not even Laila? You know how she can be.” She hoped Ali would say something to lighten the mood and make her feel better.
Ali chuckled at the mention of his mischievous little daughter. “Especially not Laila.”
“Well, what if this baby is a boy?” Fatima raised herself on her elbow.
“What if it is?” Ali crossed his arms.
“Will you be happy?” Fatima asked.
“Would you want it any other way?”
“Well, would you be especially happy.” Fatima pressed for an answer.
“Yes, to have yet another child, healthy and perfect, Inshallah, I would be especially happy.” He was teasing her now and she was feeling annoyed. It was really a serious topic for her. She knew she shouldn’t care but sometimes emotion took over rationale.
“You know what I mean, happy because it’s a boy.”
Ali paused for a few seconds and kept his cool gaze on his wife. Fatima started to wonder what he was thinking.
“I’m not your father,” he finally said.
Fatima was caught off guard. Was she that transparent? She did not know how to reply. She knew that Ali was a different man from the one she had grown up with, but sometimes the doubts just overpowered her sense of reason. It was so difficult to keep her focus on what was real instead of the pain of her past.
Flustered she stumbled over her answer. “I know that. I do. I was just thinking.”
“Well, stop doing that ok? I love our family. I love Laila, I love Batool, I love Masuma; I don’t need anything else except a healthy baby.” He paused and looked at Fatima chewing her lip, “And a happy wife. Ok?”
“Ok.”
“You’re stuck with me,” he added gently.
“What do you mean?” She asked.
“I am never leaving you or those girls. No matter what.”
Fatima turned her attention back to the piece of paper that was in her hand. “Did you check the doors?” she asked Ali.
“I’ll do it right now.”
When Ali left the room she opened the paper again. “Call me,” she read out loud. She reached for the phone beside her bed and dialled Ali’s cell phone.
“Is that my phone ringing?” Ali re-entered their bedroom.
“It is.” Fatima hid the house phone and pretended to be settling in to sleep.
“Who could be calling me now?” Ali asked as he reached for his phone. He checked the caller ID before answering. He almost laughed out loud. He pressed ‘answer’ and in his most professional voice said, “Ali Abati. May I help you?”

Across the street Rachel looked out of her window. She spent many nights like this. Indeed all night sometimes. She would sit and remember the last time she had been looking out for her father. When she was small she would come to this room because it gave her the best view of the street. She could see when he was approaching before anyone else in the house; until the last time, when he didn’t come back. Sometimes she sat here wishing she could turn back the time. Sometimes she believed if she thought about it hard enough it would happen; she would see him driving down the street and realize that this had all been a bad dream.
When the lights went out in Fatima’s house she shook her head in amusement. “He is so predictable.” Ali always went to bed at the same time. Routine was important to him. He didn’t make a big deal about it; it just was his way, naturally. He usually got up at the same time too, and often once during the night.
Although she was across the street, many nights that routine gave her a strange sense of comfort and security. She knew when the lights would go out and she knew when they would go on. Ali never turned on the bedroom light during the night or early morning, but he may turn on the hall way light or a lamp on the main floor. Rachel felt like as long as everything was ok in Fatima’s house, then she was ok too. She sat in her chair next to the window. She thought about her life and her father. She clearly remembered the last day he was home.
It had been her tenth birthday and a small group of friends and family had gathered at her house. They had been waiting for her father to return from work. They had decorations and cake and Naomi had made all Rachel’s favourite foods. They waited and waited. Late at night after most guests had left, Papa started calling around to see if they could locate him. Finally the police had called to say he had been in an accident. Rachel never saw him again. They wouldn’t allow her to see him at the hospital and they had had a closed casket. Naomi had put away all his pictures and Rachel sometimes had a hard time remembering what he looked like. He was fading in her mind. His voice and his laugh, everything was fading. It scared her to death to think about losing him again.
“Mommy.” Jonah was at her bedroom door. He was almost the same height as Joshua who was a little small for his age.
“What is it honey?” Rachel turned to face her son. Jonah came and sat on his mother’s lap.
“I don’t like it when you go away.”
“I’m not going anywhere, honey.”
“When you go away I have bad dreams,” Jonah insisted.
“It’s ok honey, I’m here. What kind of bad dreams?” Rachel asked.
“Bad men come.”
“I’m so sorry, honey. You’re ok. Mommy’s here now.” Jonah often had bad dreams. He spent many nights in bed with Rachel. He was very sensitive and worried a lot. Whenever Jamie came around the dreams were worse. She rocked him back and forth in the rocking chair Jamie had bought her when she was pregnant with Joshua. She had wanted a rocking chair so badly. One day he had just surprised her with it. She had rocked her children here and Fatima’s too.
“You don’t know Mommy; there are bad men out there. Don’t leave me. They come when you leave me.”
“I won’t leave you. I’m right here. I love you Jonah.”
Jonah fell asleep and Rachel continued to rock him through the night. When she saw the light on Fatima’s main floor she knew it was 4 am. She put Jonah in her bed and kissed him good-night. “I won’t ever leave you, as long as I live.”
She returned to her rocking chair and pulled out her list.

Sundays were usually an easy day at Fatima’s house. They tried not to go anywhere or have any special plans. It was just a day for the family to relax and enjoy each other. The girls did whatever they wanted and that usually meant starting the day by jumping on whoever was still in bed.
This morning the bed was empty. Ali had gone for a run and Fatima was at her desk in the family room studying. The room was comfortable with soft earth tone walls and soft pink couches and armchairs. Cashmere pillows and throws helped to create a serene setting. Two large windows on either side of the fireplace were draped in fabric that matched the couches. Framed nature scenes hung on the walls. Fatima’s desk was neatly tucked in the corner to the right of the entrance. She often came to this room to relax. On winter nights she loved to unwind in front of the fireplace.
She didn’t usually study on Sundays, but she felt restless today and needed to do something to occupy her mind. Also if she put in a few hours early then she could relax the rest of the day. Usually when Ali returned from a trip the girls were interested in him exclusively for at least a few hours so she would take advantage of that time to do something for herself.
Her exams were starting in two weeks and she really had to push herself to study. At this stage in her pregnancy she could not care less about studying. She just wanted to prepare for her baby although there wasn’t much for her to do. They already had the major things and she would do most of the other shopping after the baby was born. She had help to clean and do laundry once a week and she really didn’t have to cook if she didn’t want to. That definitely made it a bit easier to study, but with three active little girls it was still chaotic most of the time.
Masuma came running down the steps into the lower level. “I’m telling on you!”
Laila screamed behind her, “It wasn’t me!”
“Yes, it was!” Batool was crying.
Fatima turned to face three very upset little girls. “What happened?”
All three girls were yelling and crying and Masuma waved a piece of paper in her hand that had red and green crayon scribbled all over it.
“Laila was drawing on Daddy’s paper.”
“Give it to me. Where did you get this? Fatima asked.
“In his drawer, but it was an accident!” Laila was hysterical now.
The girls knew that Ali usually kept treats for them in his bedside table.
“It’s a bit early for sweets don’t you think?” Fatima took the paper from Masuma’s hand and realized too late that it was the letter from the lawyer that had arrived on Friday. As she tried to process what she had read she suddenly felt her heart racing and her breath hard to catch. She stared at the paper so long that it no longer seemed real. When she heard Ali enter the house she told the girls to go to the basement and watch a movie.
“We want to see Daddy.” They all started jumping.
“Get in the basement!” Fatima yelled.
The girls froze. She had never yelled at them before.
She softened her voice. “Masuma, please take them,” Fatima pleaded. She was trembling now.
The girls quickly and quietly disappeared and Fatima sunk her face into her two hands. When she looked up Ali was in front of her. He wore a beige track suit with baby blue lines down the side of the arms and legs.
“What’s going on?” he asked in a soft but concerned voice.
Fatima could not get the words out. She held up the paper. “Masuma found this in your drawer.”
Ali slowly took the paper from her hand.
“So this is what’s going on?” Fatima asked. “Someone is filing a paternity suit against you?”