I Am Noor

The Impossible

Monday, 4 AM-
Have been up since midnight, and this is the conversation that woke me just outside my door:

"I have to get her up. I have to know." Walter's voice [doorknob rattles]
"You let her sleep!" hissed Mum. Her voice was taut, like a violin string on the verge of snapping. "There are djinn at this hour, and she has been troubled enough!"
More snatches of hushed voices, unintelligible this time. I froze beneath my comforter and prayed:
Gracious Mother, if you have not left me already then please hear my supplication. Make it stop. Make it all stop!
"Again with this djinn business," were the next words I could discern from Walter. He sounded exasperated. "All this talk of spirits and demons isn't doing a thing to help Noor! I brought you to Ohio so that she could bond with you and start to heal. But look at all that's happened! What have we got to show for this?"
"And I agree to come here because you fail!" retorted Mum. I could imagine her stabbing an indignant finger into Walter's chest. "Why you think I send her here to you? Why you think I let you baptize Noor? Because even then I know the darkness is coming! From day she is born, I sleep with one eye open. I send her to Ohio to keep her safe and you fail! You, not my daughter!"
Beneath the comforter, I stifled a sob.
"You know, she's my daughter too. And I believed you from day one. You know I did! Have you any idea how hard this has been for me?" Walter raged.
I heard Mum scoff. "What is hard for you?" she demanded. "Your good name? Fancy house? Lots of money and super Catholic job? I raise seven boys and work for pennies, and you say this is hard?"
"Nasarheen--"
"No! You talk over me for seventeen years. Now I talk and you listen!" Mum snapped.
For a moment, there was silence.
A minute passed.
Then, two.
"I am faithful Muslimah since two years old, Walter David," Mum went on. Her voice was softer this time. "And life was good. I never doubt Allah, never question anything. But after I met-- after Noor was born, everything changed. Everything became dark. To protect my only daughter, I pray to Allah not five times a day, but ten times. Then twenty. Then thirty. But it made no difference!"
"And so you decided to marry me," said a subdued-sounding Walter. "Did you actually love me? Or did you only use me for what you thought were my superior Catholic 'powers'?"
There came a sharp crack and an exclamation from Walter. "Nasarheen, what in the Holy Hell-"
"Never question me again!" Mum scolded. "Of course I loved you! But what mother does not use every option she has to keep her baby safe? I thought that since Allah was not listening, then maybe your God would. That is why I send her here-- but I can see now that was a mistake. You do not believe."
"There is nothing to 'believe', Nasarheen!"
"You did once. And I saw the American Hollywood film, The Exorcist. Remember that?"
"That was just a movie," said Walter. "Times have changed. The Catholic Church has changed! Our faith--"
"...your faith."
"...our faith is much more progressive now, which is more than I can say for Islam. And that means we don't look for rudimentary explanations when lightning strikes or it hasn't rained. Christ, Nasarheen! When you called me for help, you had me believing Noor might actually need an exorcism! But you know what I saw?"
There was a pause.
"I saw a beautiful, defiant, rebellious young lady who soon started skipping school and had major issues with my authority. She's a mess. I know it hurts to hear, but that's the truth. She isn't your shining light anymore."
White-hot rage almost propelled me out of my bed and straight into that hallway.
How could he?
How dare he?
"You have gone too far," Mum said slowly.
"And you haven't gone far enough! Now let's quit this nonsense. You know she's awake. She's going to see that psychiatrist on Friday, and no daughter of mine--"
"She is not yours."
"Oh? Whose is she then?"
"She is only mine."
"Whatever. Noor? Open up!" The doorknob rattled some more.
"She is pregnant," said Mum dryly.
Those three small words struck me squarely in the heart, and my body spasmed. It was as if someone had tossed a brick onto my sternum.
"What?"
"Yes."
"But-- but Noor hasn't been with anyone! How could--"
"Noor does not need psychiatrist. She needs real doctor. Baby doctor," Mum insisted. "And very quickly, because it must. Not. Come. Out."
"Are you out of your mind?" Walter sounded about as incredulous as I felt.
Pregnant?!
Padded footsteps retreated, and a door shut quietly. Mum had gone back to the master bedroom.
For a moment, I clutched the sheets in panic, wondering what I would do if Walter unlocked my door. I didn't want to hear, see, or look at him. I wanted only to try to digest Mum's devastating proclamation in solitude.
After a few more moments of silence, Walter withdrew as well. I could hear him head downstairs into the living room, where he often sleeps (he and Mum hadn't shared a bed since her arrival).
I was left with cold, prickly silence.
And swimming in my muddled brain is the beguiling whisper of my tormentor:
You have something of mine.