What We Learned Along the Way (9 page)

“I think we’ll do upper body today, but sit
down first, relax. We have to whole afternoon.” Malikah sat in the
grass next to Isaiah.

“Malikah, you know you’re the first Muslim
girl I’ve ever dated? My parents thought I was joking when I told
them about you.”

“You told your parents about me?” It had been
a little over a month, but she still hadn’t said anything to her
parents. No one knew except Kalimah and her friends knew.

“Yes, I told them. They think it’s great,” he
said as he scooted closer to her. “You know, I’ve really been
thinking. I’m not 18 anymore. I’m 24. I need to start planning for
my future. I can’t be a waiter at Bertino’s forever.”

You sure can’t, she thought. Malikah always
wondered what Isaiah’s future plans were. She knew he was in
college, but he was only taking basic math and English classes. She
had no idea what his major was. She had asked a few times, but his
answer was always so vague.

“I haven’t declared it yet. It’s going to be
something in science,” he’d say.

Something in science? What is that? Biology,
Chemistry, Physics? she’d think. It got on her nerves when he gave
answers like that. Not that she could say much. She had no idea
what she was doing either, but at least she had declared a major.
What she didn’t know about Isaiah was that he had had many majors,
but he always dropped them. First there was History; he was going
to be a teacher. Then there was Political Science and Business.
After that was Hotel and Restaurant Management, Elementary
Education, Performing Arts, Sculpting, and last was Physical
Therapy. Isaiah was what her mother called “a jack of all trades,
but a master of none.” She was worried that she might be getting
into a serious relationship with man who wouldn’t be able to
support her.

“I’ve been thinking about marriage,” he said,
looking at Malikah.

“Marriage?” Just hearing him say the word
make her back tingle.

“Do you ever think about marriage?” he asked.
She couldn’t believe he asked her that. Asking a Muslim woman if
she ever thought about marriage was like asking a fat kid if he
ever thought about cake. Of course she thought about marriage! How
couldn’t she? She had a mother— and an entire mosque full of
people—who always felt the need to remind her of her single
status.

“Yea, I think about it sometimes,” she said
calmly. She was getting a lot better at not making a fool of
herself when she was nervous.

“I know we haven’t been together that long,
but I’ve never been with a woman like you,” he said with a smile.
The two of them were quiet for a second. Malikah leaned her head on
his shoulder and he stroked her hair. Then, he lifted her head from
his shoulder so he could stand up. “Alright,” he said after
springing to his feet. “Let’s get to working out.”

Malikah was so confused. A minute ago he
appeared to be in the middle of a proposal, and now he was doing
jumping jacks. She didn’t know what to think.

There was only a month left of the school
year, and Mariam was busier than ever. Between finals, preparing
for graduation and trying to finish up all her presidential duties,
she had almost no free time. On top of all that, she was planning
her wedding. She had finally told the girls about the move and she
was surprised at how well they took it. They didn’t seem upset like
she thought.

“You’re so smart. We knew it was only a
matter of time until you left us behind to go off and do great
things,” Aliya said.

“Yea, I was just waiting on you to spring
some news like this on us,” Malikah added.

“I expected it too,” said Jaime.

Mariam couldn’t believe how calm they all
were. Where were the tears? Who was going to beg her not to go? It
was good that her friends didn’t take it as hard as she thought,
but she wished they would have at least tried to act sad about it.
She figured it was mostly because they were all too caught up in
their men to think about much else. Aliya and Langston had been
together three months now. She, Langston and Harlem were
inseparable. They looked like a family of hair models: Aliya with
her gorgeous curls, Langston with his perfect locs and Harlem with
her mile-long ponytails. Malikah and Isaiah were one month strong,
and even Jaime had found a man.

Mariam was starting to get excited about the
move. She and Rashad had been looking at apartments online and she
was ready to decorate. She heard the Muslim community there was
pretty big, too. She couldn’t wait.

Rashad had agreed to go to the craft store
with Mariam to help her look for wedding decorations. She was
surprised he wanted to go. She asked only as a joke. She hadn’t
expected him to actually say yes. Rashad had been so nice lately.
It was as if he had solved his anger problem overnight. He was so
calm and accommodating. She didn’t know what had gotten into him,
but she liked it.

The store was so full of beautiful flowers
and decorations that she was having trouble picking anything out.
While she was in the painting and sculpture aisle, she saw
Jaime.

“Salaam, Jaime, what are you doing here?”

“My apartment is still pretty empty. I’m
looking for some decorating ideas.”

“Looks like you’ve got some good stuff,”
Mariam said, looking into Jaime’s full cart. “We’re here looking
for wedding decorations.”

As far as Jaime could see, Mariam was alone.
“Who is ‘we’?”

“Me and Rashad,” she said as she turned
around to look at Rashad, who wasn’t there anymore. “I don’t know
where he went. He was just here.”

“Oh, you’re with Rashad? I don’t want to
interrupt. I’ll catch you later,” she said as she quickly pushed
her cart toward the checkout counter.

When Mariam finally found Rashad, he was all
the way across the store in the sewing aisle. “So you thinking
about sewing me a quilt?” she said as she walked up behind him.

“You were over there looking at all those
flowers and lace. Girly stuff. I needed a break, so I decided to
walk around,” he said.

Mariam laughed. “I didn’t think you’d be able
to take too much of this. You sure did get over here fast. One
second you were right behind me and the next thing I know, you’re
all the way over here.”

“Hey, you know how I do. I’m quick on my
feet,” he said in a cocky voice. After two hours of shopping,
Mariam walked out of the store with nothing but a cake stand and
some decorative napkins. She figured she’d come back with her
sister. She knew she’d gladly make all the decisions Mariam
couldn’t.

Rashad had to get to work, so Mariam decided
to pay her family a visit. Since she was only a few months away
from making her big move, time with her family meant even more.

“I’m home,” she yelled as she opened the
front door.

“May-yum home! May-yum home!” her little
brother, Hamza, yelled. Hamza was only three and he loved his big
sister. Mariam still wasn’t quite over the fact that her mother had
another baby at 45. As if she, Jihad and Nadia hadn’t given their
mother enough trouble, she had to go and have another baby.

While Mariam listened to one of Hamza’s
fanciful stories about an astronaut, a blueberry and a teddy bear,
Jihad walked into the room.

“Hey, big sis,” he said. Jihad was four years
younger than Mariam, but you’d never know by looking at him. At
only 17 years old, he towered over his sister and had a thick
mustache and a manly voice to match.

Mariam stood up to give her brother a hug.
“What’s this mama told me about you having to repeating 11th
grade?” she asked sternly.

“Man, them niggas is trippin,” he said.

“Excuse me?” she said as she covered Hamza’s
ears. She hated when her brother brought that street language into
the house.

“Niggas tippin. Niggas tippin. Ha ha ha,”
Hamza repeated.

“Look what you did!” she said as she slapped
the side of her brother’s head. “You know he repeats
everything.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I meant those people
are tripping,” he said, being careful to enunciate with each
word.

“Jihad, why haven’t you been going to class?”
Mariam asked. He told his sister a long story about how the white
man was trying to hold him down. She missed the old Jihad, the one
that was on the honor roll and took karate classes. She didn’t know
what changed, but as soon as he hit 15, he started skipping class,
talking back to their parents and staying out all night. Mariam
prayed for her brother, but every time she came home, he seemed
worse.

“Was it the white man that made you miss 35
days of class this year? Is he the one that tells you to hang out
on the corner with those no-good Johnson boys? Oh, and let me
guess. It was the white man that told you to curse mama out last
week.” Mariam couldn’t stand to see her brother take such a
horrible path.

“Don’t tell him nothing,” her mother said as
she came around the corner. Her mother had always been pretty thin,
but her last pregnancy really took a toll on her. She gained 50 lbs
during the pregnancy and hadn’t lost any of it. She moved slowly
and always sounded tired. It didn’t matter what she looked like. To
Mariam, she would always be beautiful.

“Mommy,” she said excitedly. “It’s so good to
see you. I was just over here trying to talk some sense into this
knuckle head.”

“There’s nothing you can say to him that your
father and I haven’t already tried.” It’s in Allah’s hands. I’m
done. Now, come over here and tell me about your wedding
plans.”

“Whatever,” Jihad said with an attitude. “I
got some business to take care of anyway.” He put on his shoes and
walked towards the front door in a hurry.

“Wait, where are you going, and when will you
be back?” Mariam was worried. She didn’t want him out all
night.

“Like mama said, it’s in Allah’s hands.” He
pulled his cap down low to shade his eyes and walked out the
door.

“Don’t worry about him,” her mother reassured
her. “He does this all the time. Now, come on and tell me about
this wedding.” Mariam spent the next hour telling her mother the
wedding details.

“Oooh, that sounds nice,” Nadia said as she
stood in the doorway.

“How long have you been here?” Mariam
asked.

“Only the past 15 minutes. You were so busy
talking a mile a minute about your wedding that you didn’t even
notice me come in. Good thing I had Hamza to keep me company,” she
said, patting her little brother on the head. “You seem to have
everything under control. What about the guest list?”

“We’re still working on that. Why do you
ask?”

“Because I know one person you need to keep
off that list: Aliya,” she said with her arms folded.

“Not only am I inviting her, she’s a
bridesmaid. She’s only one of my best friends, you know.”

“A bridesmaid? Okay, you’re asking for it.
You know she’s a man thief. Remind me not to bring my man to the
wedding.”

“Your man?” her mother repeated. Nadia was
only 15, but like Jihad, she looked a lot older than she was. Her
mother didn’t like the idea of her talking to boys so soon.

Nadia let out a nervous laugh. “Did I say ‘my
man’? Mama, I’m trippin. I meant Meh-gan. Don’t let me bring my
friend Meagan to the wedding. You know that’s my girl, but she’s
wild. I can’t have her embarrassing me.” Nadia’s eyes shifted as
she spoke.

“Yea, okay,” her mother said. “I’ll deal with
you and your Meh-gan later.” Nadia wasn’t sure if her mother bought
it or not, but she didn’t want to take any chances. She ran up the
stairs to her room. When she was halfway up, she stopped and stuck
her head over the banister.

“When Aliya steals your man, don’t say I
didn’t tell you so.” She pulled her head back in and took the rest
of the stairs two at a time.

Mariam laughed. “Kids these days think
they’re so grown,” she said as she turned her attention back to her
mother.

“Yea, they do, but your sister is right. I’ve
seen how Aliya is around Rashad. It’s not right, Mariam.”

“What are you all talking about? Aliya would
never do anything like that. People just think she’s—” Mariam
hesitated to find the right word, “that way because of how she
dresses.”

“You better open your eyes, girl. Rashad is
an attractive man. Women are going to chase him. Women just like
that mini-skirt-wearing Aliya,” her mother said. “Now, I love
Aliya, and I know her mother’s passing hit her hard, but she’s not
the same. She’s not that sweet girl you used to have sleepovers
with.”

Mariam was quiet. She had noticed that Aliya
was a little friendlier with Rashad than she liked, but Aliya was
that way with everyone, even ugly guys.

“I had a friend just like that when I was
younger. Wore sexy clothes and was the friendliest thing on two
legs. I thought she was my best friend, until she stole my man.
That was the only man I ever loved other than your father.” Her
mother looked angry, like it had just happened last week.

Mariam had so many things running through her
head that night that she had trouble sleeping. She kept playing
scenes in her mind of Aliya and Rashad talking and laughing
together at work. He had been nicer than usual. Too nice. It
reminded her of a scene from one of her favorite movies. The
husband cheats on his wife and then feels bad about it, so he buys
her tons of expensive gifts. Rashad hadn’t bought her anything
expensive, other than her engagement ring, but he was acting
differently. Was all this his way of making himself feel better
about whatever he was doing with Aliya? Would Aliya stoop that low?
Was she really her friend, or more like that friend mama thought
she had back in the day? Mariam couldn’t sleep. She had to talk to
Rashad.

“Mariam?” Rashad said sleepily as he answered
the phone. “What time is it?”

“Almost 3 o’clock. I can’t sleep.”