All these instances disproved what her mother said. Was her mother exaggerating or was she talking about the morals of a bygone era? Couldn’t a girl’s permissiveness (within limits) with the man she loved be a clever way to entice him to marry her? Wasn’t it possible that if he kissed and hugged her that he would get more attached to her? Despite her medical study she knew nothing about men’s feelings. Wasn’t it possible that a man’s love for a woman made him, against his own will, think about her body? Besides, if every relationship outside marriage was a horribly shameful and forbidden sin and those committing it were unequivocally cursed, then why didn’t God damn those Americans, most of whom lived in sin? Those young men and women that she saw on weekends at train stops and parks, exchanging passionate kisses publicly and sometimes going even further, doing openly what she would be ashamed to do with the husband she had lawfully married in a closed room. Why didn’t God’s wrath befall such wanton sinners?
The months that Shaymaa had spent in Chicago made her think about her life differently. She began to have doubts about the established principles that she grew up holding to be sacred. Was God going to judge us Muslims one way and judge Americans another way? Those Americans were committing all the great sins: they fornicate, gamble, drink liquor, and engage in all kinds of deviant acts, but God Almighty didn’t seem to be angry with them; instead of punishing them for their sins, he was giving them so much wealth, knowledge, and power that they had become the greatest and strongest country in the world. Why does God punish us Muslims when we commit sins, while going easy on the Americans?
“I take refuge in God away from Satan who deserves to be stoned. I ask God for forgiveness and I repent,” she repeated, being frightened at where her thoughts had gone. She turned on her side and pressed the pillow against her head to stop the flow of thoughts, but when she closed her eyes, a final, deep-rooted fact revealed itself to her: Tariq loved her and respected her and he meant her no harm. He wanted to embrace her to express his feelings, no more and no less. The whole episode did not justify her behavior toward him. She had been cruel to him. She was now remembering his beloved pale face as he mumbled his apology in shame. She fell asleep feeling profound sympathy for him. The first thing she did when she got up in the morning was to call him. He sounded awkward, as if he expected her to chide him again, but she started talking lightheartedly to prove to him that she had forgotten the matter. They planned their day as usual and the week passed uneventfully, except that their relationship became more intimate, as if what had happened had brought them closer. A new feeling came into play in their relationship: whenever their bodies got close to each other, even for a moment, unintentionally, a great tension arose between them, whereupon they got confused and stammered and her face turned red, as if he had suddenly opened the door while she was naked. When Saturday came around they started to plan to spend it together as usual. Tariq said, “Let’s go to the movies and then I’ll treat you to dinner at the pizza place I discovered. What do you think?”
She didn’t seem thrilled and said, “Frankly, it’s cold outside and I am tired of taking the L. Listen, we’ll have dinner in my apartment. I’ll make a pizza that’s a hundred times better than the restaurant’s. What do you say?”
He seemed at a loss to understand what was happening. He stared at her face, which turned red suddenly as she laughed nervously. What exactly did she want? He tried to embrace her and she made a scene. So why was she inviting him to her place again? Tariq was so totally confused and unable to concentrate that he could not understand the new biochemistry lesson. And, strangely enough, that did not disturb him much. He said to himself as he closed the book: I’ll try to understand it later on. He threw himself onto the bed and crossed his legs (his favorite posture for thinking) and then asked himself what he was going to do with Shaymaa. The answer came right away: I’ll go to her place and come what may!
At the appointed time exactly he stood before her door. He was wearing his sharpest outfit: dark blue jeans, a white woolen turtleneck, and a black leather jacket. As soon as he stepped inside, the smell of the dough baking in the oven greeted him. He sat watching television until Shaymaa finished cooking. She set the
