CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Fatima parked the car and turned off the ignition. “Alhamdulillah”. She was home. Her last class of the year was complete, and she only had to prepare for her exams. The first of them was next Friday, her due date. She hoped she would be able to write it. The second one was later in the month and would most likely have to be deferred until the summer. She was not looking forward to the possibility of writing an exam in the summer, with a new baby, but at least Ali would be home and available to help with the children and the house.
She wasn’t sure if he had decided to study or not this summer. Either way, she knew she would have his help, as well as the help of the extended family. She would just wait and see what he decided to do. A long time ago she had learned the value of being silent. It wasn’t necessary to resolve every issue by talking. It was the natural female approach, but men didn’t appreciate it. Ali was patient , but he was still a man.
Allah had made men the head of the household, and they were capable of so much, but a simple thing like a woman asking a question was enough to mess them up. Early in her marriage, she had learned that many issues could be resolved without saying a word. Time, prayer, patience and compassion could take of so much.
She got out of the car, removed her back pack from the back seat and headed up the long stone path towards her house. Ali and Papa had completed the landscaping last year. The neighbours had questioned why they hadn’t just hired someone to do it, but Fatima never did. She understood the need a man had to do things with his hands. It was also a wonderful time for father and son to bond. She prayed that Ali could have that experience with his own son one day.
She smiled as she remembered advice Papa had given her when she got married. ‘When your husband is upset, you be quiet. When he is happy then you talk.’ It had come in handy on more than one occasion.
It wasn’t always easy to tell when Ali was upset, but these days she knew he was stressed. The baby was coming, he was dealing with the paternity suit and he knew Fatima wasn’t happy about it. He was concerned about what his parents were thinking. He still had to travel tomorrow to complete the final games of the regular basketball season, and on top of it all, it was April.
He never spoke about it, but more than once she had seen him looking at a picture he had of himself and his grandmother, taken when he was a small boy. Fatima ached inside. She wished she could help him, but she didn’t know how and she felt like he would not allow her even if she tried.
Fatima stepped onto the first of the porch steps, and one of the front doors opened slightly. She could see the light from inside the house, but nothing else. She took another step and the door opened a little more. She paused. The door remained still. With each step the door opened just a little more.
When she reached the top of the porch, she tip-toed to the door. She was determined to catch Ali this time. She silently slipped through the doorway and looked behind the door. There was nothing there.
“Boo,” Ali whispered from behind her. Before she could turn around, he had taken the backpack from her shoulder. How did he do that? Go from behind the door to the other side of the doorway, without her seeing him? If he had been behind the door at all. She could never figure it out.
She put her hand on her hip and looked up at him. “Don’t you have anything better to do than to frighten pregnant women, in the night?”
Ali pretended to be thinking. “Right now? No.Nothing at all.”
It was Ali’s last night home this week. As of tomorrow, he would be on the road until Friday. He always tried to make this time special, just as Fatima tried to make his time away special for the girls. She removed her shoes and her head scarf. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?” She asked.
He reached behind her and closed the door. “You know I can’t sleep until I know you’re home.”
Fatima laughed. “Well, you’re going to have a long week.”
“As always.” Ali stepped aside, giving Fatima entrance to the kitchen. “How was your class?”
“All I care, is that it’s over, thank goodness. School is the last thing I want to think about right now.” She looked at the pie on the table. “Looks like you started without me.”
Ali moved the pie to the island. “Sit.” After Fatima sat at the table he sat across from her. “Sister Charles stopped by.”
“I actually saw her up the street. She stopped my car on the way in. She mentioned that she saw you.” Ali nodded. Fatima continued, “So how was your night?”
“The usual; kids, kids, kids and more kids, kids, kids,” Ali answered casually.
“Yes, I heard you have a lot,” Fatima replied.
Ali stretched his legs under the table. “It’s my wife. You know, she just won’t stop.”
“What? Ali, that’s not nice.”
“I thought we were joking.” Ali rested his forearms on top of the table.
“That didn’t sound like a joke to me.” Fatima moved her hands to her lap.
“I’m sorry.” He smiled. “It was 90% joke.”
Fatima got up to leave the table and Ali grabbed her arm.
“What else happened tonight?” She asked.
“Why do I get the feeling you already know?” Ali pulled her back into her seat.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You just got home. It’s not what I want to talk about right now,” he replied, “or how I want to spend our last few hours together,” he added as he seated himself across from her.
“What happened? Is everything ok?” Fatima asked referring to Rachel’s visit.
“She just needed to talk.”
“What’s going on? And why didn’t she just wait for me to come home, if she was already here?”
“It wasn’t a big deal, just stuff.” Ali brushed some crumbs from the table.
“Naomi is ok… and the boys?”
“Yes, I think they’re fine.”
“You think they’re fine, and she just needed to talk about stuff that you can’t tell me. Do I have it right?” Fatima was having a difficult time hiding her irritation. She couldn’t understand Ali’s elusive behaviour these days. She felt like she didn’t know who she was living with anymore.
“She just had a bad day, I guess. It seems like she’s had a lot on her mind.”
“Really? So she needed to talk. Did she forget that I had a class?”
Ali sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “I can’t say. She was just upset. Her dad has been on her mind a lot and she just needed to talk about it. That’s all.”
“Why didn’t you tell her to come back when I got home?”
“I was going to, but she was all messed up and I could tell she was embarrassed that I wouldn’t let her in. I couldn’t do that to her.”
“You couldn’t? Oh, I see. I’m happy that you’re so considerate. Well, we have an agreement here and if this is going to work out then the boundaries have to be respected.
“You’re right. It was a special case. You had to be here to see. She was in bad shape.” Ali could see that Fatima’s agitation was growing and his focus was keeping the situation from escalating.
“That makes it worse.” She motioned with her hands. “Your shoulder is not the one she should be crying on.”
“She was nowhere near my shoulder.”
“Isn’t that comforting?” Fatima answered sarcastically. She stood up, slipped on her scarf and shoes, then reached for the door. “Maybe, I should go and talk to her.”
Ali moved as quickly as she did. He reached over her and put his hand on the door. “It’s late.”
Fatima pulled the door open. “That didn’t stop her from coming to my house.”


In 20 seconds flat, Fatima was at the side door of Rachel’s house. She started knocking on the door and when she remembered that Naomi was the owner of the house she knocked more softly. She caught her breath and stepped back. How many times had she knocked on this same door during her childhood?
She had knocked when she was desperate to use the washroom and not able to make it to her own house just steps away. She had knocked when she was thirsty or hurt or needed comfort. This time she was hurt and confused. Ali was keeping something from her. If Rachel had come to speak to him when she wasn’t home there must be a reason why and she wanted to know what that was.
Rachel moved the curtains to look out. The same curtains they had shopped for together, and Fatima had sewn with so much love, putting her trademark F on. Rachel opened the door and asked, “Fatima, what’s going on?”
“You were at my house tonight,” Fatima said. “Is everything alright?”

Rachel’s concerned looked changed. She stepped outside and closed the door behind her.
“Yes,” she said and crossed her arms in front of her. She was still feeling a little uncomfortable about her visit and anticipated that Fatima may be annoyed. She was prepared. Ali was Fatima’s husband but Rachel was not going to let Fatima take her to task for a simple conversation.
“You’re ok?”
“I guess.”
“So what happened? Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“I just needed to talk. A lot has been going on lately,” Rachel stated flatly.
“Ok...”
When Rachel didn’t elaborate Fatima finally said, “You knew I was at school.”
“And? What’s the problem? I can’t talk to Ali anymore? We’ve been friends since grade three.”
Fatima was fuming. She had come to Rachel’s house to see what had happened, to make sure she was alright, and all Fatima was getting was this strange attitude from her.What was going on? She couldn’t understand what had gotten into Rachel. If she was truthful, at this point she didn’t want to understand. She just wanted to make herself perfectly clear. “Rachel, we have boundaries and you know why.”
Rachel narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you trust your husband?” It was a low blow considering the current issues at hand.
Fatima stepped up to meet Rachel and looked her straight in the eye. “I trust God and can handle whatever comes my way.”
Rachel’s nostrils flared and her eyebrows arched. “Well handle this. Yes, I knew you were at school. Yes, I went to your house at 9:30 on a cold, dark night knowing that you were not there, because I needed something from someone and no, it wasn’t you. I needed my friend. My best friend. As I remember, I used to have two of them.”
Fatima kept her breathing even and refused to respond. She wanted to hear everything.
“Your beloved husband opened the door, to find a basket case on his front porch, and attempted to call everybody and their mother to deal with it, so he wouldn’t have to. After I freaked out and made a total fool of myself, he finally let me in and was gracious enough to allow me a seat at your kitchen table, making sure to sit as far away from me as possible. He gave me cold water, and let me babble. Then, when your children needed him, he left me to enjoy Sister Charles’ pie by myself, with Batool’s help of course. Then, I let myself out, through the door that was left open the entire time. I think you would have been proud of him.”
Fatima should have been furious, but all she felt for Rachel at that moment was sympathy.
“Why Rachel? Why do you do this to yourself?”
Rachel was startled by the sudden change in Fatima’s approach. “What are you talking about? Listen forget it, ok? It was just a conversation. No big deal.”
“Really.”
“Look, Fatima you have everything. All I wanted was just a few minutes.” Rachel leaned on the metal railing while watching Fatima.
“You still don’t get it. You have it all too. If you would just stop focussing on what you think you’re missing you might be able to see all that you have. Ali has never stopped being your friend. Anytime you need him he’s there for you. He watches out for your mom and takes care of your boys like they’re his. He would lay down his life for you. How many people have friends like that? But somehow that’s not enough for you.What do you want, Rachel?”
Rachel shifted her eyes. “He just feels sorry for me.”
Fatima laughed out loud and shook her head. “I’m sure if he wanted to give charity there are many easier ways he could do it,” she retorted.
Rachel remained silent, but her bottom lip started to quiver. Fatima stepped down into the garden. She picked up the stones that Ali had placed so carefully. She started throwing them at the budding crocuses just pushing their way through the dirt. “Who” she threw a stone, “plants flowers” she threw another stone, “in someone else’s garden?”
Rachel released her hands and then crossed them again. “He did that for my mother,” she said decidedly.
“Your mother is blind!” Fatima had not realized her voice had increased so much in volume.
Rachel covered her mouth to prevent herself from speaking. Fatima, breathing heavily stood at the bottom of the stairs looking up to Rachel’s level. “That is exactly why you are in the situation you’re in.You don’t even know what love looks like.”
Rachel saw Ali before Fatima did.
“Fatima, it’s time to go inside.” Ali’s deep voice cut through the night air and the building tension between the two women. All that could be heard now was the rustling trees and their breathing.
Fatima and Rachel stood staring at each other without speaking.
Rachel spoke first. She had to take a cleansing breath and clear her throat to do it. “Your husband is speaking to you.”
Fatima shook her head and turned to walk away. Rachel watched Fatima and Ali enter their home before she retreated and slowly locked her door.