TWELVE

August 1999

The chilly air hit Hâroon as he carried Ibrâhîm out of the pediatric clinic, Yusrâ clutching his thawb. Yet another failed visit. Yet another doctor who didn’t know what was wrong. Yet another hope dead at his feet.

But Hâroon couldn’t give up on Ibrâhîm. Somehow, someday, he would find out what was wrong and how to help him. That day just wasn’t today.

“The doctor couldn’t help us,” Yusrâ stated.

“No, hon, he couldn’t.”

In the last year, Yusrâ seemed to be growing too fast for comfort. Of course he was proud of her for understanding Ibrâhîm was different and therefore needed more attention and care than she did, but lately she acted rather adult-like and he couldn’t help feeling concerned. She worried more about Ibrâhîm than she played and more than once he’d returned home to find she was the one supervising Ibrâhîm instead of their mother. A three-year-old was not supposed to be babysitting.

It was as if Lila was abandoning the role she had in Ibrâhîm’s life, and Yusrâ was trying to make up the difference in her own way. When his wife didn’t want to bother with Ibrâhîm’s behavior or his tantrums, Yusrâ was always there, ready to help, sometimes getting hurt in the process. Lila didn’t even come along to the doctor’s appointments anymore, but Yusrâ was always determined to tag along instead of staying home to play. The behavior was unnatural and concerning.

“What do we do now?” Yusrâ asked.

Hâroon hid how disturbed he was by the too adult tone of this conversation behind a smile. “We make du’â for Allâh to help us help Ibrâhîm and inn shâ Allâh I’ll find a doctor who knows what’s wrong soon.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

Determined to redirect her attention to something more age-appropriate than doctors’ appointments and Ibrâhîm’s struggles, he changed the subject. “Would you like to go to the park?”

She lit up, finally looking like the child she was supposed to be instead of a too serious miniature adult. “Yeah!” But then she looked at her brother and her expression changed. “But Ibrâhîm might try to run away.”

It was a common problem when taking Ibrâhîm out in open spaces. Hâroon had to always remember to keep a firm hold of him or he could rush into danger.

“I’ll be here to make sure he doesn’t,” he told her as they reached his parked car.

“You watch Ibrâhîm better than Mommy,” Yusrâ agreed. “Mommy gets tired.”

Hâroon couldn’t fault Lila for getting tired or frustrated. Ibrâhîm was difficult to care for. He got tired and frustrated, too. However, she was his mother and still had to fulfill her responsibilities toward him, just as he did. It wasn’t right to dump those responsibilities on their daughter who wasn’t even old enough to care for herself yet.

Hâroon loaded the children into the car, buckling them into their car seats. Then he handed Ibrâhîm a stuffed toy to play with from the diaper bag to keep him occupied during the drive to the park.

“I want a toy, too,” Yusrâ spoke up.

Hâroon dutifully dug through the bag and pulled out her favorite doll. “Is this what you want?”

She nodded her head vigorously. “Yes!”

He handed it to her. After double checking to make sure both children were securely buckled into their car seats, he closed the door. Then he got into the driver’s seat, started the car, and drove out of the clinic’s parking lot.

Several minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of the neighborhood park. After getting the children out of the car, with a firm hold on Ibrâhîm with one hand and clasping Yusrâ’s tiny hand in his other, he led them inside to the playground.

“Swings!” Yusrâ exclaimed once they reached it. “I want to go on the swings!”

“Go ahead,” he said, noticing there were a number of children taking turns on the swings, where a designated older child of about nine or ten was pushing for those who couldn’t swing by themselves.

Yusrâ pulled her hand away and ran off toward the swing set to join the other children.

Hâroon looked down at Ibrâhîm, who was similarly trying to pull away. “Where do you want to go, buddy?”

Loosening his hold on Ibrâhîm to give him just enough free will to lead the way, he followed him to the slide. There were thankfully only a few children lined up at the ladder compared to the swings, though still too many for Ibrâhîm to bear the wait as patiently as Hâroon would have preferred. It wasn’t long before he was screaming and struggling against Hâroon’s hold to get to the slide before it was his turn, which earned them looks from other children as well as disapproving parents.

It would have been enough for someone of a weaker will than Hâroon’s to walk away. But the last year had taught him to remain unrelentingly stubborn if he wanted Ibrâhîm to have the same rights and experiences as other children. He couldn’t expect other parents to give Ibrâhîm the understanding he deserved; he had to fight for it. So even with the looks he and Ibrâhîm received, he stayed in line so his son could have a turn on the slide like everybody else.

By the time it was Ibrâhîm’s turn, he had calmed down somewhat and was more whining than crying. Hâroon took him up to the ladder, watched him clamber to the top, and then moved to the end to wait for him. When Ibrâhîm came down laughing, Hâroon knew the uncomfortable wait had been worth it.

After a quick glance at the swing to ensure Yusrâ was still in sight—she was—he led Ibrâhîm around to the back of the slide to wait for another turn.

He and the twins left the park at the approach of sunset. When they reached home and he got them inside, the house was quiet and dark. Hâroon wasn’t even surprised. Lately, as he took Ibrâhîm to doctor after doctor, his wife spent more and more time with friends she’d made who he honestly didn’t approve of—none of them Muslim or the kind of company Muslims should keep. But his wife didn’t listen to his advice, and he’d tired of repeating the same thing over and over again.

“Mommy isn’t home,” Yusrâ observed. “Does that mean you’ll make us dinner?”

“Yes, hon,” he said. “I’ll make your dinner.”

He wondered if he’d miss jama’ah at the masjid again. It had been happening more and more often with Lila often returning home after Maghrib and sometimes even ’Ishâ. If Ibrâhîm was more controllable, he could have taken them with him, but it was impossible. There was no telling what Ibrâhîm might do or the havoc he might wreak in the masjid while he prayed. He couldn’t risk it.

“Good,” Yusrâ said. “Mommy is mean when she cooks.”

“Mean? How?”

“She gets mad when I tell her me and Ibby are hungry,” Yusrâ replied.

That isn’t right. How can she be angry with them for being hungry? Hâroon looked down at his daughter standing by his side, and then to his son who paced the hall with his favorite ball in his arms. I failed them, he acknowledged. It was their right for me to choose a good mother for them, and all I thought about was how attractive she was. I failed them.

There was nothing he could do about his mistake now other than try his best to make up for Lila’s shortcomings by his own actions. He couldn’t tell his daughter it was wrong for her mother to get annoyed or angry because she and her brother were hungry, so he changed the subject.

“What do you want to eat tonight?”

Yusrâ cocked her head to the side as she thought. “Can we have macaroni and cheese?”

“Sure.” Then he herded both children toward the bedroom. “You and Ibrâhîm play in your room for a while so I can pray. Then I’ll make your dinner.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

Lila didn’t return until after dinner was cooked and the children were fed. Hâroon was just about to get them ready for bed when he heard the door, followed by Lila’s familiar footsteps. They met in the hall as he was taking the twins to their room to put them to bed, so he couldn’t rebuke her for arriving so late—not in front of the children, especially Yusrâ who understood too much for her own good.

“You’re home, Mommy,” Yusrâ said. “Daddy made macaroni and cheese.”

“That’s nice,” she replied in a distracted tone, heading for her bedroom. She didn’t even pause to look at the children.

Ibrâhîm was in too much of his own world to notice his mother’s disinterest, but Yusrâ clearly recognized it. Her expression fell, and fury simmered in Hâroon’s blood. It was bad enough that she only spent time with the children when he was at work, and he had his doubts on how well she was actually watching them then. The least she could do was give her daughter attention when she spoke to her.

“Lila, we need to talk,” he said, inserting a firm note in his voice for her to know it wasn’t optional.

She made no effort to hide her groan of dismay. “Fine,” she said in a tone that was the perfect imitation of a disagreeable teenager.

Hâroon ignored the tone and walked on with the children.

“Are you going to tell Mommy about what the doctor said about Ibrâhîm?” Yusrâ asked.

“Among other things,” he said vaguely. His daughter didn’t need to know the primary topic of discussion was Lila’s behavior and not the failed doctor’s appointment.

It took a while for Hâroon to get both children asleep after their nighttime bath and change of clothes. Though Yusrâ immediately dropped off after he recited Qur‘ân, Ibrâhîm took much longer and kept trying to get out of bed.

Once both children were asleep, he left the room, turning off the lights as he stepped out. Then he went in search of his wife to have that needed conversation he wasn’t looking forward to. Assuming she was still holed up in her bedroom, he knocked on her door.

She opened the door and glared. “Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”

“No, it can’t. You’re impossible to get up in the morning and after work the children will be about.”

With an aggravated sigh, she stepped out of her room and closed the door. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

“Let’s sit down somewhere first.”

“Not in my room,” she said immediately, narrowing her eyes at him.

He sighed. “I wasn’t going to even suggest it.” He pivoted and walked away. “Come to the den.”

Moments later, her door closed and her footsteps followed him.

When they entered the room, he turned to face her. “Sit down.”

Without response, she flounced past him and dropped into one of the armchairs.

He took the second.

“What did you want to talk about?” she asked in a careless tone, studying her fingernails that showed signs of a recent manicure.

“You seem to have forgotten you’re not a teenager and you’re not living with your parents anymore,” Hâroon said. “You’re married and you have children. You can’t be staying out all night with who knows whom. I don’t mind sharing the responsibilities, but you going out every night has got to stop.”

Anger sparked in Lila’s eyes. “You have no right to stop me. You may be my husband, but you’re not my master.”

“Actually, I do have the right,” Hâroon corrected. He’d never pulled the obedience card before, but he didn’t see any other choice. “One of the husband’s rights is obedience, and I’m not being unreasonable. You need to spend time with the children. Maybe Ibrâhîm doesn’t notice how you’re acting, but Yusrâ does.”

Lila stared at him bitterly. “It’s not like I wanted this anyway.”

He could have snapped back, but he didn’t. “I didn’t force you to marry me and I didn’t force myself on you, so don’t give me that excuse now. You made your decisions, so you have to live with the consequences and take responsibility for them.”

Lila’s eyes turned frigid. She stood up abruptly. “I’m done with this conversation.” Before he could say a word, she walked out, throwing over her shoulder, “I don’t know what I was thinking marrying someone like you.”

She was gone before he knew how to feel or react. With a sigh, he rubbed his hands over his face and then stood. The conversation, like many others before it, had not gone well, and he knew better than to expect Lila to listen to what he’d said.

What do I do now? he asked himself. But he had no answer.

🌾

Hâroon pulled into the garage after a long day of work, relieved to be home, even though he knew it wasn’t calm relaxation that waited for him inside the house. On the better days, Ibrâhîm would be in a good mood that had him jumping off the walls. Other days, Hâroon would be greeted by bloodcurdling screams when he walked through the door. He would soon find out what kind of day it had been when he went inside.

A high-pitched scream reached Hâroon’s ears the moment he entered the house. It was followed by thuds, bangs, and more screaming. Ibrâhîm was having one of his tantrums again. He waited to hear signs of his wife trying to calm their son, but he didn’t hear a sound from her. He wasn’t even sure if she was in the room with Ibrâhîm or not.

Things hadn’t changed for the better with Lila since that conversation they’d had. If anything, they seemed to have worsened. Even when she was with the children, she wasn’t truly supervising them. Time and time again, he found her ignoring them, while Yusrâ took on the role of caretaker when Ibrâhîm was crying or wanted something. Today seemed to be one of those days.

He followed the loud sounds to the den, looking in to find Ibrâhîm screaming as he tossed toys in aggravation. Lila was in the room, calmly flipping through a magazine. Other than occasional winces or cringes, he would have thought she didn’t even hear Ibrâhîm. She neither glanced in his direction, spoke, nor moved.

Yusrâ, carefully constructing a tower with multi-colored wooden blocks, watched her brother, showing more concern than her mother. “Mommy, Ibby is crying again.”

“Don’t mind him,” Lila replied. “He’ll stop when he gets tired.”

“But, Mommy, Daddy doesn’t ignore him when he cries...”

“Don’t argue with me, Yusrâ,” she snapped. “Your brother is being a spoiled brat and I’m not giving into his whims like your father does.”

Yusrâ fell silent, tears forming in her blue eyes, but she didn’t cry. Instead, she abandoned her tower and crawled over to her enraged brother. “What’s wrong, Ibby? S’okay—I’m here.”

Emotion clogged Hâroon’s throat and tears formed in his eyes. Yusrâ was being forced to grow up too fast, taking on the position of big sister to Ibrâhîm when they were the same age, and Lila’s careless approach was pushing her to take on an even more active role in caring for her brother.

“Yusrâ, what did I just say?” Lila demanded. “We don’t give him attention when he’s acting like a brat. That’s what he wants. Let him talk like he should and then we listen. Get away from him.”

“But he can’t talk,” Yusrâ pointed out. “You know that, Mommy. I’m sure something’s wrong.”

“He can’t talk because everyone runs when he cries and he doesn’t make the effort!” Lila fumed.

Eavesdropping on the conversation between his wife and daughter made Hâroon enraged. It had been clear for some time that there was something wrong with Ibrâhîm, yet Lila was refusing to acknowledge the issue and blamed it on spoiled behavior instead. She was also trying to undermine the support Yusrâ regularly gave her brother.

Before his wife could do any further damage or lose her temper with their daughter, he stepped into the room, trying to keep his tone calm and even despite the fury burning within. “What’s going on in here?”

“Daddy!” Yusrâ cried out happily. “You’re home!”

Hâroon, momentarily distracted by her enthusiastic welcome, directed a warm smile at her. “Assalâmu ’alaykum, Yusrâ hon. How was your day?”

“Fun!” She immediately fell into a detailed description of all that had happened at play group that day and may have continued for several long minutes if he hadn’t interrupted to bring her attention back to the reason he’d walked into the room in the first place.

“What’s wrong with Ibrâhîm?” he asked, his gaze on his wife.

Now that he’d returned, she wasn’t paying attention to either child, fully immersed in the magazine she was reading. If he got his hands on it, he was certain to discover it was one of those fashion tabloids with scantily clad women he kept throwing out that she kept buying—yet another thing they were on opposite sides of the fence about. He didn’t want anything in his household that could tempt him to sin, even with just his eyes, and his wife saw no problem with leaving pictures of barely dressed women around the house for him to see.

“I was trying to find out what’s wrong, but Mommy said to leave him alone,” Yusrâ said with the pure, untarnished honesty of a young child. “I shouldn’t, right? I should try to make him happy again, right?”

Hâroon caught the expression of fury that passed over Lila’s face, directed at their daughter, from the corner of his eye. As of late, she seemed to neither have the patience nor the interest to handle their children. If they were well-behaved, she ignored them; and if they acted out, she snapped at them. Even Yusrâ, who always did her utmost to be good and helpful, seemed to get on her nerves.

He sent Lila a warning look before turning his full attention on Yusrâ with a smile. “Of course, hon. I know he cries a lot, but he usually has a reason, and it’s the only way he knows to tell us something’s wrong since he can’t talk.”

“That’s what I thought,” Yusrâ said. “Told you, Mommy.”

Since Lila looked like she was ready to explode, Hâroon thought it best to get Yusrâ out of the room before she had to bear the brunt of her mother’s anger. Though it wasn’t intentional, the three-year-old often gave the impression of being a smart aleck, infuriating her mother.

“Yusrâ hon, how about you go find a storybook and we can have story time after Ibrâhîm stops crying? Go find a good story for me to read.”

“Okay!” She immediately jumped to her feet and tore out of the room to do as suggested. He knew it would take a while for her to return, just as he’d wanted—it always took her at least thirty minutes to decide on one book.

He turned on his wife as soon as he was sure the little girl was out of earshot. “What on earth is wrong with you? He’s screaming and throwing things and you do nothing and then you tell his sister to ignore him?”

Lila shrugged. “He does it all the time. He’s doing it for attention. If we ignore him, it might stop.”

“That may work for other children, but we both know this is his only way of getting attention. And you had no right to tell his sister that he’s a brat and to ignore him.”

Without giving Lila a chance to respond to his rebuke, he turned to Ibrâhîm. “Hey, what’s wrong, buddy?”

Ibrâhîm continued to cry and throw anything within reach. Hâroon cringed at the loud volume as he tried to calm the child in a soft, reasonable tone.

“It’s alright,” he murmured. “Daddy’s here. Tell me what’s the matter.”

“I thought he can’t talk,” Lila spoke up sarcastically from her seat “He can’t tell you anything last time I checked.”

“What on earth is with you?” Hâroon hissed, trying to keep his voice down so Yusrâ wouldn’t overhear as he turned on her. “In case you’ve forgotten, he’s your son, too!”

Lila shrugged. “Not by my choice. I didn’t want to be pregnant, if you recall. You’re the one who made me go through with it.”

Taken aback, he stared at her. It was the second time she’d referred to the unwanted pregnancy recently. Though it was true that he’d made the decision for her, she hadn’t seemed to mind by the time the delivery date neared and had actually seemed to take joy in being a mother, but now it was becoming clear the former Lila had come back—the one who cared for nothing and no one but herself.

“I don’t know how you can think that way of your own child,” he said coldly. “I really don’t know you.” He turned away and focused his attention on Ibrâhîm instead.

After calming him with reassurances in soft-spoken tones, Ibrâhîm was able to make his father understand what the problem was when he passed over the battery-powered toy car which had gone mute. Hâroon quickly concluded that the batteries had died and a change was required.

“Is that all?” he asked. “Daddy will fix it.” He cast an aggravated glance in the direction of his wife as he removed the dead batteries, thinking she could have at least tried to figure out what was wrong.

Ibrâhîm didn’t stop crying completely, but he had stopped throwing things and was no longer terrorizing Hâroon’s ears with bloodcurdling shrieks.

“I got a story!” Yusrâ announced as she tore back into the room. Then she paused as she glanced at her brother. “He’s still crying, Daddy? Is he hurt?”

“No, hon,” Hâroon told her. “His toy isn’t working. Do you know where I keep the batteries in my room?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said.

“Go and get me a pack,” he instructed. “I think the batteries just need to be changed. Be quick.”

“Okay!” Dropping the storybook she had brought with her, she, once again, tore out of the room.

“I really don’t think it would have taken much effort on your part to figure out he was just upset because his toy wasn’t working,” Hâroon remarked to his wife.

Lila turned the page of the magazine she was looking at. “Like I could make sense of all that screaming and carrying on. I’m not some baby whisperer like you. ”

He decided to say nothing more, turning as Yusrâ raced back into the room with a package of batteries in hand. “I got it, Daddy!” she announced, dropping beside her brother. “Look, Ibrâhîm! I got batteries for your toy!”

“Thank you, hon,” Hâroon said, ripping open the package and tossing them into his hand. “I’m sure he’ll be fine as soon as it starts working again.” He inserted the batteries and latched the opening closed. Then he turned it on and set it down.

As the car began to move and make the loud sounds that both entertained Ibrâhîm and partially drove Hâroon crazy, the whining and crying ceased, and Ibrâhîm reached for the toy.

“He stopped,” Yusrâ said happily. As Ibrâhîm scooted away with his loud toy, she retrieved the book she had brought earlier. “Let’s read, Daddy!”

“Okay,” Hâroon agreed. “But how about we take turns. You read one page and then I’ll read the next one.”

She cocked her head to the side as she gave it some thought. “Okay. I go first, right?”

He nodded. “Go on.”

Yusrâ slowly sounded out the words as she read. “uh-nn-ss... Unce?”

“Once,” he corrected.

“Once,” she repeated and continued, “uh-pah-uh-nn... Upa-un?”

“Upon.”

“Upon a ta-ih-ma-eh—ta-imeh?”

“Time,” he told her.

“I know what it says!” Yusrâ cried out excitedly, unfazed by her reading mistakes. “Once upon a time! Right, Daddy?”

“Right,” he confirmed. “Very good.”

In the background of their out-loud reading, Ibrâhîm’s toy cried loudly with whirs and screeches. Neither he nor Yusrâ minded. Where Ibrâhîm was, there would always be noise. It was more worrying if he was quiet.

Lila stood. “I’m going to my room,” she said. “It’s too noisy in here. No one bother me.”

Hâroon didn’t respond but he watched as she tucked her magazine under her arm and walked out. She spent less and less time interacting with their children nowadays. As long as he was there, it was as if she didn’t think it was worth her effort, and her opinion of their son was more than disturbing.

“Daddy, why doesn’t Mommy play with us or talk to us anymore?” Yusrâ asked, bringing him out of his thoughts. “Is she mad at us?”

The fact that his daughter had noticed the change in her mother as well reminded him that she was more aware of what was going on than he gave her credit for. He couldn’t tell his daughter what he really thought and settled for a weak assurance. “She’s probably tired, hon. Don’t worry. Let’s continue reading, shall we?”

“Okay,” she said, bending her head over the book to continue; and as she was reading, Hâroon pondered on Lila’s continuously changing behavior, wondering how much worse she’d become.

Several minutes later, while Yusrâ was still invested in her storybook and Ibrâhîm was happily playing with his battery-powered car, Lila passed by the room, fully dressed with the strong scent of perfume wafting off her. Neither of the twins noticed, but Hâroon certainly did.

“Yusrâ, I’ll be back in a minute,” he said. “You can keep looking at your storybook.”

Yusrâ, who had been in the middle of sounding out a word, looked up. “Do I need to watch Ibrâhîm?”

“No,” he said, wondering how often Lila had Yusrâ “watching” her brother. “I won’t be far. You can call me if you see him about to do something naughty, but you don’t have to do anything.”

Looking relieved, she looked back down at her book.

Hâroon caught up to his wife at the front door. “Where are you going?” He didn’t bother mentioning the perfume. They’d argued about that one to many times without any benefit.

“Out.” She didn’t even bother giving him a clear explanation.

“Where?”

“With friends.”

That didn’t tell him much more than the first answer. “Didn’t we talk about this? You can’t be going every night.” She’d already gone out several days in a row since that conversation he’d tried to have with her, while he didn’t go out at all. The most he went out was to take the twins to the park or to pay a visit to Moses Williams across the street.

“Talk?” she repeated. “You mean when you tried to order me to do what you want? No, thank you. I already told you I don’t have to listen to you. You can’t make me. If I want to go out with my friends, I will.”

Before he could think of a reply good enough to reason with her on why she should spend more time with her children than friends, she was gone and he was left staring at the door and wondering how he’d been so blind.

She’s so different, he thought to himself, unable to help thinking of the family-oriented women of his growing up years. Even the women he knew who had chosen to go into careers instead of being homemakers always put their families and children first. Lila didn’t even have a career. She just wanted to live the same carefree lifestyle of her teen years while he worked and tried to pick up the slack in their children’s upbringing.

“Daddy! Ibrâhîm is climbing the bookshelf!” Yusrâ’s voice called, distracting him from his thoughts. “He’s not allowed to do that, right?”

Hâroon pushed away the troubling thoughts of the woman he’d married who wanted to be neither wife nor mother and headed back to the den with a smile to see to the trouble Ibrâhîm was getting himself into.

When he entered the room, Ibrâhîm was halfway up the shelf, while Yusrâ watched from the ground with wide eyes, holding onto the storybook she’d been reading. “Look, Daddy!” she exclaimed, pointing at her brother. “He’s not supposed to climb that, right?”

“Right,” he agreed with her. He plucked Ibrâhîm off the bookshelf. “Enough of that, little monkey. You need to stay on the ground.”

Yusrâ giggled.

He set Ibrâhîm down and directed him back to some of the toys spread around the room before he took it into his head to climb the shelf again. If not redirected, he’d learned, Ibrâhîm would do the same thing over and over again, no matter how many times he stopped him.

When Ibrâhîm took interest in stacking the blocks, Hâroon returned to reading the storybook with Yusrâ. For now, he pushed all thoughts and worries about Lila away to think about at another time.

🌾

Hâroon’s desk phone rang during his lunch break just as he finished eating the burger he’d picked up from a nearby restaurant. Wiping his hands clean with a wet wipe, he picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Assalâmu ’alaykum!” his brother’s voice came over the line, sounding more happy and excited than he’d heard him in several months. Though Ya’qoob hadn’t confided what was going on, he had assumed he and Noorah were going through a rough patch.

Relieved to hear his brother sounding more like himself than he had in a while, Hâroon smiled. “Wa’alaykumus salâm.”

“Roon! Roon! Roon!” Ya’qoob cried, sounding more like an excited five-year-old than an adult. “Guess what! Guess what! Guess what!”

“I couldn’t possibly,” Hâroon said.

“You’re no fun,” Ya’qoob complained.

Hâroon smiled. “I never claimed I was. Now what is it you have to tell me that you couldn’t wait until I get off work?”

“I’m...going...to...be...”

Hâroon rolled his eyes at the dramatic pauses but didn’t interrupt.

“...a...daddy!” Ya’qoob finished.

He shot to attention at the news and grinned. “Really? Bârak Allâh  feek! May Allâh make him or her the coolness of your eyes.”

“Ameen,” Ya’qoob responded and then added, “It’s a girl. We’re expecting her sometime next month.”

“Giving the news kind of late, aren’t you?” Hâroon pointed out.

“Got to be sure about these things,” his brother said vaguely in a tone that told him there was probably more to the story, but he didn’t ask. “Do you think you’ll be able to come for the birth and ’aqeeqah?”

“I’ll arrange something,” Hâroon promised. He’d been present for the birth and ’aqeeqah of every one of Maryam’s children. He couldn’t miss the birth of Ya’qoob’s first child.

“Great. It wouldn’t be the same without you here with me.”

The brothers exchanged a few more pleasantries before hanging up. Then Hâroon turned his attention back to work.

When he got home after work, the house was quiet—too quiet. For the last few weeks, he always came home to find Ibrâhîm screaming, Lila ignoring him, and Yusrâ trying her best to comfort her brother. More than once, he even found Lila shut up in her room while Yusrâ dutifully tried to keep Ibrâhîm out of trouble with little success.

Why is it so quiet? He knew better than to trust the silence. Whoever had come up with old adage “Silence is golden” obviously hadn’t had young children. Quiet only made him suspicious and worried, especially since Lila had not been particularly attentive toward the children as of late.

He carried his briefcase with him as he went in search of the children, hoping against hope that his wife had actually just found a quiet activity for the children to engage in and there was no cause for concern. However, neither child was in sight when he looked in the den—their usual play spot—nor was his wife. The bedroom the two shared was empty and they weren’t in his bedroom either. Panic set in when he realized they weren’t in any of their usual favored playing areas.

Though it was very unlikely, he checked Lila’s bedroom next. Hâroon knew how unlikely it was that Lila would tolerate the children’s invasion of her privacy, but since he was unable to find them anywhere else, he had to check.

With a sharp rap on her door, he opened it and looked in. He found her on the computer, browsing the Web. Last month she’d constantly pushed to have a computer and for an Internet connection to be installed. Like he did with everything else she asked for, he gave in just so she’d stop bothering him. Now he fully regretted to giving in since she spent most of her time on it and ignored their children even more.

With one glance, he noticed neither child was in sight.

“What are you doing in here?!” she snapped at him before he could withdraw, momentarily ripping her gaze away from the computer. “You know I don’t want you in here!”

“Where are the children?” he demanded, ignoring her question.

“Around playing somewhere I’m sure,” she said dismissively.

“I can’t find them,” he stated, trying to keep the panic out of his tone. “You’re supposed to be watching them!”

“You probably didn’t look good enough,” she said, not sounding nearly as concerned as he thought she should be. “They’re around somewhere. Where they could have gone with the doors locked? Just keep looking.”

He resisted the urge to yell out his agitation and frustration. “Come and help,” he said stiffly. “Since you couldn’t be bothered to keep an eye on them when I wasn’t here, you can at least help me find them.”

“Fine,” she said unenthusiastically. She rose from her chair and followed him out of the room.

Barely speaking to each other, they first went over the rooms Hâroon had already checked to be sure. As had already been concluded, they weren’t in their room, nor in the den. They also weren’t in the kitchen or the empty spare rooms that had never been put to any use. The unused basement and attic were empty, too.

By the time they reached the end of their search, Hâroon was about to conclude that somehow the children had managed to leave the house and he needed to organize a search party with his neighbors, but as he was thinking to do just that, he heard sounds coming from behind the door of the hallway bathroom. Recalling they had not checked any of the bathrooms, he hurried toward the door with hope in his chest.

He opened the door to a scene that horrified him. Yusrâ sat primly on the covered toilet seat, her eyes trained on her brother; and Ibrâhîm, just in a pair of shorts, was in the filled tub, splashing water everywhere. With the risk of either one of the children slipping and falling on the wet floor, there was a definite need for adult supervision of the activity, but the two were alone and had been for who knew how long.

“See?” Lila spoke up from behind him as she peered over his shoulder. “They’re fine. Nothing to worry about.”

The fact that she didn’t see the issue that she’d lost sight of them or that their chosen activity could cause an accident if not supervised properly enraged him. “You can go back to your room,” he said coldly, not wanting to deal with her any longer or lose his temper in front of the children. “I’ll be with them.”

“Of course,” she said and breezed away without another word.

“Daddy, you’re home!” Yusrâ cried happily as she noticed his presence.

“Yes, I am,” he said. He glanced toward Ibrâhîm, standing in the filled tub, kicking the water and occasionally leaning over to splash with his hands, too. Then he looked back at his daughter. “What are you two doing? I’ve been looking for you.”

“Mommy told me to watch Ibrâhîm,” Yusrâ explained. “Ibrâhîm kept getting into stuff so I found something for him to do. I even changed him into his waterproof diaper and swimming shorts. I did good, right?”

She sounded quite proud of her feat, but it only brought Hâroon concern. She was three years old, but her mother was leaving her a responsibility for someone much older. She was just a little girl, but she wasn’t being given much of a chance to be one lately. She wasn’t supposed to be the one taking care of Ibrâhîm, changing him, and keeping him occupied; that was his mother’s job.

“You did good, hon,” he praised her, hiding his conflicting feelings. He glanced toward Ibrâhîm again, recalling that he usually helped him into the tub for his baths. “How did he get in?”

“I helped him,” his sister said proudly. “It wasn’t too hard.”

That detail more than bothered him, especially since Ibrâhîm was almost double Yusrâ’s size. It would have been easy for her to be knocked over while helping her brother into the tub.

“Well, Daddy can take over the watching now,” he told her. “You can play with Ibrâhîm now if you want.”

Yusrâ lit up and slid off the toilet seat. “Wait here, Daddy! I’ll be right back! With that, she rushed out of the bathroom, leaving him alone with Ibrâhîm.

Hâroon glanced at his son and sat down on the toilet seat Yusrâ had occupied. As he watched Ibrâhîm splash around happily, he smiled, pushing away his troubling thoughts about Lila and her severe lack of sense and supervision for the moment.

Yusrâ returned a few minutes later, eyes sparkling and a bright, beaming smile stretched across her face. She had changed out of the puff-sleeved pale blue dress she’d been wearing into a green T-shirt and a pair of gray leggings, and her arms were filled with the toys she used during bath time and the few rare times they had visited a beach.

She dumped the toys into the tub with a splash. “Let’s play with these, Ibby! It’ll be more fun than just splashing.”

Hâroon helped her into the tub and she plonked herself into the water, splashing at her brother and then reaching for the shovel she had brought.

Ibrâhîm found some fascination with the objects that had been brought, picking them up and dropping them to make bigger splashes. His sister laughed. “No, Ibby. That’s not how we’re supposed to do it!”

Hâroon smiled as he watched. But even as he kept a careful eye on his children to prevent any accidents as well as intervene if Ibrâhîm started acting out toward his sister like he sometimes did, his mind was on Lila. If she was leaving supervision to their three-year-old daughter, he definitely needed to hire someone to watch the children while he was at work.

But even with that decision made, he wasn’t sure how to go about finding someone. Back home, he could have asked his mother to find someone. She knew all the Muslim women in their small community and was acquainted with women outside of the community as well. She would have easily tracked down someone to watch the twins if needed. It was different here. The only ones he knew well were the Williams couple. He wasn’t sure they could help him, but it would have to be worth a try since he didn’t know anyone else.