What We Learned Along the Way (30 page)

“It wasn’t funny, Adam. That was really
dangerous. I didn’t come here to have my life put in danger. I’m
ready to go. Take me back to shore,” she commanded.

“Relax, babe. It was just a joke. I know you
didn’t think I’d really put my own life in danger? Fine, we can go
back. I’m getting hungry anyway.” He steered the Jet Ski back to
the beach and parked it near the bronze-skinned man they had rented
it from. Kalimah jumped off before it came to a complete stop and
ran up the bank to their hotel. The Jet Ski rental guy looked at
Adam with concern. “Women…,” Adam said in a belittling voice. He
ran to catch up with his wife. “Hold on, baby. Damn!”

Kalimah rushed to the bathroom of their suite
and closed the door. She ran cool water on her face to try to calm
herself down. Adam opened the door and gave her a soft smile.

“You know I was just playing.” She didn’t
respond. She kept splashing the water on her face, hoping it would
camouflage her tears. “I said I’m sorry. Loosen up.”

Kalimah turned off the water and turned to
face her husband, a tap water and salty tear mixture dripping down
her face. “Can you please just leave me alone? I don’t want to talk
to you right now.” Adam was taken aback. Usually, all it took was a
little sweet talk to get her to forget about whatever he had done.
He didn’t like this new resistance.

“Where’s your hijab?” he barked.

Kalimah sat on the edge of the tub. “What?”
She looked confused.

“Where’s your hijab? I told you I didn’t want
you going out without it.” At Adam’s request—which was more like a
demand—Kalimah became a fulltime hijabi when they got married.

“I didn’t go out without it. It flew off my
head while we were careening toward that buoy,” she said with a
sarcastic smile.

“Why didn’t you hold on to it?”

Kalimah had a look of disgust on her face. “I
was too busy holding on to you!”

“Whatever. All I know is, you better keep it
on your head! I saw the way that Jet Ski guy was looking at you.
I’m not going to have another man lusting after my wife,” he
yelled. Kalimah let out a little laugh. The thought of anyone
lusting after her in her current state was laughable. Her hair was
standing on end like she had stuck her finger in an electrical
socket. Her eyes were puffy and red from the ocean water and tears,
and her skin was dry and ashy from the salt and harsh winds. She
was certain that guy hadn’t taken one look at her. “What’s so
funny? I don’t see anything funny,” he griped.

“Nothing, Adam. Nothing at all is funny.”

“That’s what I thought.” He went into the
bedroom and came back with a beautifully wrapped gift box. He
tossed it to her. “Now put this on, do something with that hair and
come on into the bedroom,” he said with a devious smile. He put on
soft music, lit some candles, dimmed the lights and waited for her
to come to bed.

Kalimah opened the box and pulled out some
pink, lacy lingerie. She hated pink and lace. She preferred softer
fabrics like silk and satin, and she loved the way red looked on
her skin. Pink wasn’t flattering at all. And no matter how many
times she told Adam what she liked, he continually brought home
what he liked: pink lace. She pulled her hair back into a big
French braid and put a little moisturizer on her face. After using
a dab of concealer to disguise the puffiness under her eyes, she
put on the uncomfortable lingerie, a fake smile to match, and
dutifully met her husband in the bedroom.

Malikah’s day flew by. Before she knew it, it
was time to meet Muhammad at the restaurant. She wouldn’t dare have
him pick her up and risk him running into her mother. As far as she
was concerned, her mother had already ruined one relationship too
many.

The restaurant was dark. She squinted to see
if Muhammad was already there. “Do you have a reservation, ma’am?”
the hostess asked. Thanks to Isaiah, she knew all the Chinese
buffets in a fifteen mile radius, but she had never been to a fancy
restaurant. She wasn’t used to having to have a reservation. She
didn’t even know whose name Muhammad had put the reservation
under.

“Um, I think I have one. I should,” Malikah
said, unsure.

The hostess smiled sweetly. “Great. All I’ll
need is the name for that reservation and I’ll see you to your
seat.”

“The name is Hasan,” Muhammad said as he came
up behind Malikah and rested his hands on her shoulders.

“Oh, Mr. Hasan, it’s always nice to see you.
We’ve got your table ready. Right this way.” The woman led the
couple to a booth near the piano player.

“Your table, huh? You must come here a lot,”
Malikah said as she situated herself in her seat.

“Not that much. Just every now and then.
Enough about me. I want to hear about you. Last time I saw you, you
seemed to be pretty into some guy. What happened with that?”

“What happened with that?” she repeated. “Um,
it just didn’t…”

“You gotta be kidding me!” Muhammad
interrupted. He was staring at something in his lap.

“Excuse me?” Malikah said, confused.

“Forgive me, sweetheart. I’m listening. I was
just thinking about something. Go on.”

“Okay, well, like I was saying. It just
didn’t work out. You know how that goes.”

“Yea, I know how that goes,” he said, still
staring into his lap. “Go! Go! Go! Touchdown!” He squirmed around
in his seat. He was so happy that he smashed the miniature TV he
had been watching on the table like a football.

“Hello? Remember me, the person you invited
here?” Malikah was offended.

“Malikah, I’m sorry. I just had to catch the
end of that game. I’m all yours for the rest of the night.” He
flashed a winning smile and all was forgotten.

“So, what made you ask me out now? We’ve
known each other for years and you’ve never seemed even slightly
interested in me,” Malikah asked. He didn’t get a chance to
answer.

“Are you ready to order?” the waiter asked as
he walked up. He was a very tall man. Malikah had to crane her neck
to look him in the eye. She had been so busy attempting to have
small talk with Muhammad that she hadn’t even looked at the menu
yet.

“I’ll need a few more minutes, if you don’t
mind.” She ran her finger down the menu as she read the
descriptions.

“Let me. I’ll take the lobster and she’ll
have your finest house salad.” Muhammad winked at Malikah. “That
way you don’t ruin your diet.” The waiter took the order back to
the kitchen.

“What do you mean ‘ruin my diet’? What diet?”
Malikah asked after she sipped her water.

“I know how you women are. Always on a
diet.”

“Well, I’m not on any diet, and you didn’t
have to order for me. I could have managed on my own.”

“I bet you could,” he mumbled under his
breath.

“What did you just say?” she asked in
amazement.

“Nothing. Have some bread,” he said, pushing
the basket across the table. She took a piece and pushed the basket
back to the middle. “You said you’re not on a diet. Why stop
there?” He pushed the basket back toward her. Malikah had had
enough.

“You know what? I’m done here,” she said as
she pushed back from the table and stood up. She turned around and
began to walk toward the exit.

“That’s what I get for going on pity dates!”
he yelled. He pulled his small TV back out and turned it on.
Malikah was so mad her ears were burning. She felt like everyone in
the restaurant was staring at her as she walked away.

“Ma’am, your salad,” the waiter said as she
quickly pushed past him, nearly knocking him over. He took a moment
to steady himself and then carried the food to the table. “I
noticed your lady friend on the way out. I hope everything is
okay.” The waiter sounded worried.

“Don’t worry about her. I’m not. So, you
gonna serve the food or just hold it in the air all night?”

“Oh, sir, please forgive me.” The waiter
placed Muhammad’s order in front of him and then looked at the
salad. “I guess I should get this back to the kitchen.”

“No need. Leave it.” The waiter placed the
second plate on the table and scurried off. Muhammad feasted like a
king.

Pity date? That’s all this was to him?

Malikah’s stomach felt uneasy like she was
going to throw up. She couldn’t believe that someone she had
idealized for so many years turned out to be such a monster. She
felt stupid. Malikah was so consumed by her thoughts that she
didn’t notice she was drifting across the line into oncoming
traffic.

“What are you doing?!” an angry man yelled
out his window as he swerved to avoid her car.

“Idiot!” another woman yelled while blaring
her horn. Scared, Malikah whipped her wheel to the right as she
tried to get back in her own lane. The car jerked and slammed into
a parked car against the curb. It all happened so fast. She didn’t
know what to do. She heard horns honking and breaks screeching. The
smoke that began to billow from under her hood made it hard to see.
She began to panic.

The car’s going to explode!

She steadied her
shaking hands enough to unbuckle her seatbelt, but couldn’t get it
to come undone. She frantically pushed the button over and over
until finally she got the belt off. She rushed to open the door and
fell out of the car into the street.

“Are you okay? The cops are on the way,” a
woman who had witnessed the whole thing said. She wanted to help
her up, but knew that it wasn’t a good idea to move an injured
person. “Can you move? Is anything hurt? Can you hear me?” the
woman said slowly, spacing out the words.

“I think I’m okay,” Malikah replied as she
carefully stood to her feet. Her knees were so shaky that she
almost fell, but another bystander caught her from behind.

“Easy, easy,” an older man dressed in a
business suit said. He helped her over to the curb, away from the
smoking car. Just as Malikah sat down, she felt something gooey
drip onto her nose. She crossed her eyes and saw that she was
bleeding. She touched her forehead and pulled away a bloody hand.
She was bleeding a lot. She was so concerned with getting out of
the smoking car that she didn’t even notice the huge gash on her
head. Oddly, she wasn’t in any pain, not yet, anyway. The
adrenaline wouldn’t allow it.

The woman handed her a towel. “Hold this
against your head until the cops get here.” Malikah began to cry.
“I know it hurts, but you have to apply pressure,” the woman said
softly. Malikah’s tears had nothing to do with her bloody head, but
she wasn’t about to explain that. She stopped crying when a
scary-looking cop approached her with a small notepad and a
pen.

“Ma’am, are you okay? We have an ambulance on
the way.”

“My head’s not doing so well, but other than
that, I think I’m alright,” Malikah said sheepishly.

“Have you been drinking? Is this your car?
May I see you license and registration? Are there any weapons in
the car?” The cop had a million questions. It was all so
overwhelming. Malikah could feel herself getting dizzy.

“Ma’am? Are you okay, ma’am?” the cop asked
again, this time with some actual concern in his voice. Malikah
felt strange and extremely weak. She slumped over and fell onto the
woman that had given her the towel.

The woman began to panic. “Ma’am, ma’am, are
you okay?” Malikah didn’t answer. “She’s fainted,” the woman
shrieked.

Mariam stared into the changing colors of the
indoor fountain. “It’s so beautiful,” Rashad said from across the
table.

“Huh?” Mariam turned around to face her
husband.

“The fountain. I was saying it’s
beautiful.”

“Oh, yeah, it really is. Thanks for bringing
me here. It must have been hard to get a reservation.”

“Not really. Let’s just say I have a lot of
connections in the restaurant world.” Mariam and Rashad had been
working hard on their relationship for the past four months, and
they were finally starting to make some progress. In fact, in some
ways, they were better than normal. This was the first time Rashad
had ever taken her to a restaurant other than his own. “I love you
so much, Mariam. Thank you for believing in me.” He put his hand on
hers.

“You’re welcome, dear. This has been so hard
for me.” Her eyes began to water, but she didn’t let it go any
farther than that. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, a whole lot.
I figure I can stay mad at you forever, get a divorce and then
carry that rage into the next relationship, or I can buckle down
and get through this. My parents have had a very rocky
relationship. At times I was sure they were going to break up. I
even prayed for it, but somehow they always pulled it together and
showed us how strong a real commitment is. That’s the example they
laid out for me. But, I need to know, Rashad, that I can trust you.
I don’t want to give you my all and not get yours in return.” One
stray tear escaped from her eye. She wiped it away quickly.

“You have my all, baby. I promise you. I hate
what I did and can’t take it back. The fact that you would stay
with me through this only makes my commitment to you that much
stronger. There’s no better woman in the world for me, and I was a
fool to jeopardize that. I’ll never, ever, EVER do that again.”
Mariam could see the reflection of the fountain in his eyes. She
could also see his sincerity. Things were different between them
from that night on.

Mariam was finally starting to feel like her
old self. She wasn’t quite ready to hear Jaime’s voice again, but
she had sent a few emails. They didn’t say much, just that she was
making progress on her journey towards forgiveness. Still, Jaime
loved them. They were short and to the point, but she treated them
like gold. With each new message, she felt a bit closer to getting
her best friend back.

A quick verse of Michael Jackson’s Beat It
played on Rashad’s cell phone. He had a picture message. It was
from Jaime: