What We Learned Along the Way (3 page)

“Talk to us, Jay. What’s wrong?” Aliya asked.
Jaime looked around at her friends. Then she put her head down and
began to cry. They were all shocked. They hadn’t seen Jaime cry
since she was 7 and accidently ate a piece of ham.

“Do you ever feel like you’re suffocating?
Like you literally can’t breathe? Like you’re standing in a room
full of people trying to yell at the top of your lungs, but no
sound is coming out?” She paused for a second to catch her breath.
“Aliya, look at you. You’re younger than all of us and you’ve done
so much for yourself already. And you,” she said, turning to
Mariam, “you’re so driven, so dedicated.” Then she turned to
Malikah. “Even you, Malikah,” she had to think for a second for
something to say about her, “I know you’re in school and have been
forever with no real direction and may never even graduate, but you
never give up.”

Malikah knew that, from Jaime, that was as
close to a compliment as she was going to get. It was odd, because
even with the backhanded compliment, she had never felt as close to
Jaime as she did at that moment. Even though she wasn’t even sure
what she was talking about, she felt she understood. She could see
pain in her eyes and recognized it. It was the same pain she felt
all the time when she was alone in her room.

“I’m 22 years old, and I haven’t been
anywhere or done anything without my parents. Everything I’ve ever
had, my father has gotten for me. I haven’t done a thing for myself
and I can’t stand it. I had to beg them to let me go to college,
and for what? So I could graduate at the top of my class and then
sit home and stare at my dusty degree? According to my dad, ‘it’s
not proper for a Muslim woman to get a job and work around all
those godless men,’” she said, imitating her father’s voice. “I
can’t take it anymore. I just look at you all and feel like I’m
missing out on so much.”

“Have you tried talking to them?” Mariam
asked.

“Until I’m blue in the face. They don’t
listen to me,” Jaime answered.

“You’re parents love you and only want the
best. I’m sure they don’t realize that you’re so unhappy,” Mariam
said softly while rubbing Jaime’s back.

“I’ve seen you around your parents, Jay. Not
to be mean, but you have no backbone. You’re like a 3 year old when
they’re around,” Aliya said in a far less sympathetic voice. She
had always been a no-nonsense, give-it-to-you-straight kind of
girl. “You’ve got to stand up for yourself and let them know that
they’ve raised a wonderful young woman who can think for
herself.”

Jaime looked at the clock and saw that it was
nearly 3 am. She stood up and started to gather her things. “It’s
pretty late, guys. They hate it when I come home late. I’ll call a
cab.”

“At this time of night? Girl, you aren’t
going anywhere.” Aliya commanded. “You’re staying right here with
me. I’ll take you home tomorrow morning.”

“But my parents,” Jaime began to
complain.

“Your parents will be just fine. They know
you’re with us and that we wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
Aliya didn’t even wait to see if Jaime agreed or not. She went in
the back room and brought out some extra covers and pillows. Mariam
and Malikah were pretty tired too, so they all camped out on the
living room floor.

Between the excitement of the concert and
Jaime’s parent problems, Aliya had forgotten all about Langston;
but that night, she dreamt about him. When she woke up and realized
the whole thing was a dream, all she could say was “Damn. Oh well.”
She told herself that a guy that perfect had to be married or at
least involved with someone. He was probably gay or into that “down
low” mess, she told herself. In less than five minutes, she had
convinced herself he had to be a crazed bank-robbing rapist,
anything to make herself feel better about not getting his
number.

The clock on the wall read 10 am. She noticed
that Mariam and Malikah were gone. There was a note left on top of
a pillow:

Sorry to leave so early. Didn’t want to
wake you. Someone called in sick at work. I’m going to cover. I’m
taking Malikah home, too. Call you later. Salaam
.

“That’s just like Mariam,” Aliya said to
herself. “Always ready to help someone. She’d cover someone from
her death bed if she could.” She folded up the extra covers,
careful not to wake Jaime. Then she went into the kitchen and made
some eggs and pancakes. By the time she was done, the wonderful
smell had already awakened Jaime. “Morning, Sunshine,” Aliya
greeted her.

Jaime was still half asleep. All she managed
was a groggy, “Hey.”

“I know you’re dying to call your parents.
You can use my phone. By the way, what happened to yours?”

Jaime looked embarrassed. “They took it. My
mom was looking at my outgoing calls one day and saw that I had
been talking to Joseph.” Jaime couldn’t believe she just told her
that. She was planning on telling everyone she had dropped her
phone in the toilet, but she was too sleepy to lie.

“Are you serious?” Aliya couldn’t believe her
ears. “Oh, girl, I would have gone crazy living in your house. Come
eat,” she motioned for Jaime to come sit at the table. “So are you
in a rush to go home or do you want to chill a bit?”

“Uh, I’m in no rush. I don’t really have
anything to do at home. I don’t have any committee meetings or
anything.”

“I have to go work for a few hours. Want to
come?”

Jaime had been to Starr before, but Aliya was
a bartender, and Jaime didn’t think she should be spending her
morning at a bar. Reading the concern on Jaime’s face, Aliya
reassured her.

“Don’t worry. It’s not that bad. It’s still
early, so no one is ordering drinks yet. Mostly appetizers and
sodas. Come on. It’ll be fun. I can get you free food,” she said,
trying to convince her friend.

“Well, I guess I could come. Let me just call
my parents.” Aliya pointed in the direction of the phone. While
Jaime talked to her parents, Aliya took a quick shower and got
dressed.

She wore her usual black Starr tank, a pair
of fitted jeans. She ran the flatiron through her hair and pulled
it back into a neat ponytail. She gave Jaime a fresh pair of jeans
and a tank to wear under her abaya.

On the way to work, Aliya told Jaime about
Langston. “Girl, you had to see this guy. He was beautiful and
polite, not like those immature men that are always trying to grab
all over you. He was so respectful.” She paused for a second. “But
he sounds too good to be true, doesn’t he?” she said, searching for
confirmation. “I’m sure he is married with, like, 8 kids, or gay or
something, right?

All Jaime wanted to know was, “Is he
Muslim?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. Being a
Muslim doesn’t make you a good man. I’ve been cheated on by Muslims
and Christians alike,” Aliya answered with a slight attitude. She
hated when people told her to get a Muslim man. Jaime could sense
her annoyance, so she let it go and told her friend what she wanted
to hear.

“Yeah, he was probably gay,” Jaime
replied.

Aliya was like a celebrity at her job.
Everyone there, including the customers, knew her name and seemed
happy to see her.

“You can hang out here.” Aliya pulled up a
stool for Jaime. “I have to go in the back for a second.” She gave
Rashad a quick hugs she walked past. Jaime was shocked. She didn’t
like to see men and women touch so freely.

“As salaam alaikum, Jaime,” Rashad said with
a big smile. “How have you been?”

Rashad was very attractive. She thought he
looked cute in his chef’s hat. He always made her a little nervous
when he spoke to her. She felt bad because he was he practically
engaged to Mariam.

“Wa alaikum salaam. I’m fine,” she replied.
“You don’t mind that she hugs you like that?”

“Who, Aliya?” he asked, pointing behind him
toward the kitchen. “You know how she is. She hugs everyone. She’s
just one of those huggy types,” he said casually.

“Oh,” Jaime said with a certain snootiness
about her.

“I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll see you
later.” Rashad went back into the kitchen. Just as he left, Aliya
came back out and went to seat some customers. She dropped a bowl
of pretzels in front of Jaime as she passed. Aliya was surprised to
see the restaurant so busy at such an early hour. She felt bad
leaving Jaime alone at the bar, but she had to work. In about an
hour, she sat 15 tables and served 9 of them. The crowd was steady
streaming in. She sat down for a second in the back to get a quick
break.

“I know you’re not taking a break now,”
Rashad said jokingly as he walked by.

“Oh, I know. It’s just so busy out there.
Needed a moment to catch my breath. I feel bad. Can you check on
Jaime? See if she needs anything?

“Do I have to? That girl has a bad
attitude.”

“Please, Rashad. You know she’s not used to
being in an environment like this. She’s Mariam’s best friend,”
Aliya pleaded.

“You owe me,” he said as he left the
kitchen.

After giving herself a one minute pep talk,
Aliya found the energy to get back to work. Just as she opened the
door, one of her co-workers asked her to cover table 10. “It’s just
one guy. He looks pretty easy to please, and he’s cute,” she said
with a wink. Aliya walked over toward the table. Because of the dim
lighting, she couldn’t see his face yet, but from his silhouette,
he looked like he had broad shoulders. When she got closer, she
recognized the face. It was Langston.

After Mariam dropped her off, Malikah took a
long shower and thought about last night. She struggled to fight
back her own tears as she thought about Jaime. Though Jaime had
always been the one she liked the least in their friendship, last
night she felt like she was Jaime. She could identify with
everything she said, everything she felt.

Malikah was in her 4th year at Smithson
College, but credit-wise she was only a sophomore. She went to
college because that’s what you do when you graduate high school,
but she never had a plan or any direction. She figured she’d find
her calling after a year or so, but things hadn’t gone as planned.
After a long talk with her parents and career counselor, she went
ahead and declared Business as her major, but that did nothing to
help her decide what she wanted to do. She felt so lost, so
pointless. It seemed like every paper she wrote, every class she
took, every presentation she ever gave were just tasks on a random
list of things she had to do. She never felt like she was working
toward anything, and she hated that feeling. She considered,
countless times, dropping out, but she didn’t want to hear her
mother’s complaints.

Every time she tried to talk to her mother,
she told her she wasn’t working hard enough in college, and that
she should have met a nice husband by now. “You remember the Khan’s
daughter? She found her husband by the end of her freshman year.”
Her mother always had to bring up someone who had already found her
husband.

“Well, I’m sorry, mama. I’m just not as quick
as everyone else. It takes some people time to find a good
man.”

“Time is what you don’t have. Those hips are
getting wider by the day,” her mother said, patting Malikah on the
hip.

Malikah had to laugh to keep from crying. She
hated when her mother talked about her like that. Where does she
think I got these hips from? she thought. Malikah and her mother’s
bodies looked almost identical.

“Even if I never get married, you’ve always
got Kalimah,” Malikah said aloud. I’m sure she and the glorious
Adam will give you some beautiful, small-hipped babies.”

Kalimah was Malikah’s younger sister. For as
far back as Malikah could remember, Kalimah had always been the
pretty one, the skinny one, the cool one, and the one all the boys
liked. So, it came as no surprise that seven months earlier, at the
tender age of 19, she had married Adam, a handsome 28-year-old
doctor who had just been featured as one of the city’s most
eligible bachelors. Malikah loved her sister, but couldn’t help but
envy how perfect her life was. In their mother’s eyes, Kalimah
could do no wrong.

“I’m not worried about Kalimah. She’s got her
man. I’m worried about you,” her mother yelled as Malikah left the
room, trying her best not to react. She went upstairs and called
Mariam, who was still at work and had to whisper into the
phone.

“Hey, Malikah. Is everything okay?” She could
tell from the sound in her friend’s voice that she was angry about
something.

“My mother has been giving me the marriage
speech again.”

“Oh, no,” Mariam said softly.

“Then she practically told me I’m too fat to
get married. And she wonders why I eat all the time. Mariam, I’ve
got to find a husband. I think that’s the only thing that will shut
my mother up.”

“Just be sure not to make a rushed decision.
I don’t want to see you marrying some random man, one of those
desperate old men that will marry anything that appears to be
female,” Mariam warned. They both laughed, thinking about all the
old men they’d seen chasing young women.

“It’s not that bad yet, but it might get
there. I just don’t know how much more I can take.”

“Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you and Jaime
get an apartment together? That will solve both of your parent
problems,” Mariam said enthusiastically. She was proud of her idea
and had forgotten she was at work. She was getting a little too
comfortable. “Girl, let me get off this phone before I get fired.
I’ll call you when I get off.”

Malikah barely heard Mariam hang up the
phone. The last thing she remembered was the part about her and
Jaime getting an apartment. Me and Jaime? That would never work.
We’d probably end up killing each other. But after last night, she
did see Jaime in another light, and they did at least have annoying
parents in common. Could it work?