The Second Wife’s Owl

After the phone call ended, her arm fell limp at her side yet somehow, she still managed to grip her phone. Sara couldn’t believe what she had just heard.

Who do you trust, your best friend of 10 years that has never lied to you or your husband that has never caused you to doubt him?

Her mind was racing with a million thoughts, before she could tune in on one, another thought would interject. She tried closing her eyes to calm herself, but her ears zeroed in on the sound of the street traffic.

How could her mental state drastically change within a span of minutes? Five minutes ago, she finished setting the ambiance of her home up to par with that of a spa. The scent of vanilla birch filled the air, marking her unwinding. But now, internally she was about as winded up as a skein of yarn.

Awlah hasn’t called her in months and Sara considered their friendship to be practically over.

Is she lying about Adam because she’s jealous? But then again, Awlah has never ever lied.

Years ago, when Awlah and Sara went to the Madrasah, an after school religious studies center, they would play a game called the “The Lying Game”. They were taught that lying was a sin and so, with that in mind, they decided to count each other’s lies throughout the day. If anyone added the tiniest bit of exaggeration to a story, they would count it as a lie. On their best days, everyone would average at least 3 lies, and on their worst days, the average would be 10 lies.

However, for Awlah, her record was always clean. Zero lies. Even after they called the game, other students would listen attentively to when she spoke, hoping that she would slip in a minor white lie but no avail. That’s how she got the nickname Oula, which meant number one in Arabic.

She also had another nickname, “Owl-a” one that Sara gave her after going on a desert safari trip in middle-school. On their way back from the prayer room, Sara noticed that the sun had set, and the navy-blue sky illuminated a blanket of stars. Suddenly, an owl flew past them and perched itself on the branch of a stocky palm tree—they fell silent as it’s dark gaze pierced into their cranium.

“Is it going to attack us if we move too fast?” whispered Sara in a shaky voice.

“No, I’ve seen my fair share of Barn Owls in Somalia” replied Awlah, “Let’s go before our class leaves us in the desert to die.” she added and walked off.

Sara immediately snapped a photo of the bird and juxtaposed it with Awlah’s face. The similarity was shocking, especially because she had a small mouth, round cheeks, a small narrow nose, and large round eyes. Just like the Barn Owl.

“Sara, are you okay?” asked a bewildered Awlah, as she moved the phone away from her face.

Sara burst into laughter, realizing how strange she must have looked to her friend.

“Remember how I was considering nicknaming you “Ellee” because you never forget faces?”

“Yes,” Awlah said, hesitantly.

“Well, now I think your nickname should be Owl-a!” exclaimed Sara, whilst theatrically framing hands, as if she could imagine the words in front of her. Awlah looked at her friend, awkwardly clenching her teeth, unimpressed.

“Okay wait, listen, you know how we all say that you have freakishly amazing eyesight? Like how you can spot our crushes from miles away.”

Awlah continued walking, nodding her head as she went.

“Owl’s having amazing eyesight too, and so do you!” She yells.

“Wow, did you go to school for this?” Awlah asks, sarcastically feigning great interest in Sara’s skills. They both laughed and raced towards an angry teacher and a honking school bus.

And so, the nickname stuck.

They called each other the best of friends. “Platonic Soulmates” is what they called it. Their friendship of 10 years withstood almost every challenge that could result in ending a friendship. From working with each other at the same job, to moving to different countries, starting a small business together and even three-person friend groups. On the contrary, their friendship seemed grew stronger with these challenges and situations.

Then came the final test, marriage.

Sara considered herself a hopeless romantic and so, one of the many things that Sara loved but also disliked about Awlah was her disinterest in marriage. This was the only topic that placed them on opposite ends of the spectrum.

“I’m not anti-marriage, I’m just not interested in it. If it’s in Allah’s (God’s) plan for me, then so be it.” Awlah would say, while shrugging her shoulders. Something about her large owl-like eyes made her look wise beyond her age.

She would look even more wise when she spoke in Somali. The elders would look at her in awe, her mastery of the language surpassed most second-generation parents, owing to the fact that she was raised by her academic grandmother, a professor in Somali Literature that moved to Canada in the 90’s.

Awlah never knew her parents. Her mother died because of a complication that persisted for weeks after giving birth, and it was said by the village head that her father died during the civil war. Up until the age of 9, she lived in the countryside of Somalia, thriving on camel milk and a simple pastoral life until her grandmother was finally able to sponsor her move to Toronto.

Sara and Awlah met as neighbours one day, when Sara’s father found her playing with ants in the hallway.

“I think you and my daughter Sara are going to be the best of friends” he said, as he stood by the door of their apartment. He was right about that. As the days passed, Awlah would spend more and more time with Sara’s family. Even her grandmother grew close to Sara’s parents as she trusted Sara’s father with her finances. He would withdraw money from her bank and give it to her monthly as Awlah’s grandmother was weary of banks.

Sara would joke around and ask her parents if they could adopt Awlah, since they both told everyone that they were sisters. This was kind of believable since they resembled each other a little and purposefully dressed similar.

“Even though she may have ruined my spa night, it was nice hearing her voice after so long”, Sara whispered to herself, lost in her trip down memory lane.

Suddenly she felt the phone in her hand vibrating, she glances at the words "Habibi Adam".

Oh God, he’s coming home in an hour.

She waits for the call to end and dials her mother’s number immediately. She picks up after two rings. “Salam Sara! How are you and Adam-” Sara cuts her off mid-sentence and says, “Hoyo, listen, I love you but I’m about to lose my mind. Please, I need you to listen to me and give me your honest opinion about what I should do.” She says in one breath.

Her chirpy tone is replaced with a sombre one, “Haye.”

“Awlah called me 10 minutes ago and informed me that she saw Adam holding the waist of some lady whilst escorting her to the passenger seat of his car, two weeks ago.” She let that sink in, for herself and for her mother. She continued.

“We haven’t spoken ever since I told her that Adam has asked me to distance myself from her, because he feels uncomfortable and intimidated by our friendship. I’m trying to convince myself that she was motivated to lie to me because she’s jealous and misses being friends.

But Hoyo, the weird thing is that I remember Adam was over an hour late from his shift the night that Awlah claimed to see Adam with the other lady. Me and you both know that Awlah never lies, especially about what she sees with her two eyes, so tell me what I should do before I start talking to myself.”

Sara’s mother took a deep breath, “Naa hee dheh, Idhagayso, [Oh girl, listen to me carefully], womankind will try anything to ruin a healthy marriage. Before you were born, your father would travel back and forth for a year between Canada and Somalia for business. During this time many of the women in our community became jealous of the relationship that your father and I had, some much so that they came to me one by one, in attempts to convince me that your father had a second wife. I knew that if I asked him about the rumour, it would cause a rift between us. So, I never did. He had shown me no signs of disloyalty and every year that I spent with him, his love for me increased. Do you think that was a bad idea considering how strong our relationship is, till this very day?” She asked.

“No ma’am” said Sara, feeling both shocked and stupefied with her mother’s excavated story.

“So what will you do?” she asked, in a tone that indicated that she knew exactly what her daughter would say next.

“Exactly as you would, Hoyo.”

Sara never asked Adam about why he came home late that night, but she did text Awlah that night.

“Awlah, I’ve grown out of calling you my sister, maybe you should too. Lying never suited you. Take care.”

Two years later

Sara finds a letter in her mailbox; it must have been her first time receiving a letter from Africa. She squinted her eyes, attempting to decipher the name of the sender without her reading glasses. She drew in a quick breath when she realized it read Awlah Ali. Not a second was wasted as she tore open the letter, and frantically reached for her glasses.

Dear Sara,

It’s been years since the last time we saw each other. Yet it seems impossible for a day to go by without thinking about you. I feel bad for the way things ended, but I find comfort in knowing that everything happens for a reason. Ayeyo [Grandma] told me about your divorce. I was really really sorry to hear that.

The timing of this letter may seem spiteful, but I hope that you know me well enough to know that I’d never write you a letter to just to tell you that “I told you so”. I’m writing this letter because I wanted to tell you that I never ever lied to you. But I did withhold the truth from you, only because I didn’t want to ruin your life. It was a secret that ate me alive every day. In fear that I would lose my mind, I vowed that I would never lie again as the burden of my secret weighed so heavy on my soul.

When I was 6, I still lived in Somalia with my aunt. One day, she found a picture of my mother and father, hand in hand, under a palm tree. I carried that photo with me everywhere, as it was the only thing that connected me to my deceased parents.

A sharp pain in her lower abdomen drew Sara’s attention away from the letter. These cramps, otherwise known as ligament pain, were common during the second trimester of a pregnancy. Once the pain subsided, she found a comfortable place to lie down and grabbed the letter. Before she could find where she last left off, a small photo slipped out of the envelope.

In the photo a young couple sat happily under a tree, the father proudly held the infant in his hands. Did Awlah find love? Sara’s heart melted at the thought. But her gut told her that something was terribly wrong. She looked carefully at the woman in the photo and noticed that although Awlah and her looked almost identically alike, her mouth and nose seemed wider. It was the woman’s eyes that fooled her. She had the exact owl-like eyes that Awlah had. The man in the photo also began to look strikingly familiar. Sara didn’t want to believe what her gut was telling her. Suddenly, everything from her childhood was beginning to make sense. She grabbed the letter and began to frantically skim it, fearing to confirm her gut until her eyes landed on the last line.

Sara, I never ever denied it when you told everyone that we were sisters. You are my sister.

Her father’s monthly visits to the bank, the resemblance between them, the rumours of a second wife and lastly, Awlah’s complacent reaction to when Sara told everyone that they were sister. It all made sense now

6 months later

Awlah receives a letter back from her sister Sara. She’s nervous and excited to read it so she waits for the night to fall before sneaking out from under the covers. It was a full moon that night, so she didn’t need her flashlight, the moonlight would suffice.

As she walked towards the forest, she began tearing the letter open.

Dear Awlah,

I hope you are doing well. I wish I could tell you how sorry I am for distrusting you. Please forgive me. I thought about how difficult it must have been harbouring a secret of that magnitude at such a young age. Everyone said that you were wise beyond your years, and that was no lie. I can say that my mother died in her bed, happily. Ignorance is really a bliss. She believed that her marriage was perfect. I wanted to tell her, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Maybe If I could confront our father, I would but, he died whilst I was still married to Adam. The man that hid his second wife from me, until he decided that he wanted her to be his only wife and the one to bear his children. We humans plan but it’s only God’s plan that unfolds.

The reason why I’m writing this letter, instead of meeting you in person is because I may not live to see the next day. There are implications with my pregnancy and so there is a high chance that I may not live to spend a day with my baby. Adam has already stated that he wants nothing to do with her, and so I would appreciate more than anything in this world, if you could take care of her and treat her as you would your own. I love you more than I could express in words.

Owl-a, if you get this letter within a week from this date, I have passed on. May Allah reunite us in paradise.

Salam.

For the first time ever, Awlah howled as loud as she could, in agony.

A second passed and a group of barn owls could be heard screeching in unison.

An act of respect for one of their own.

Who knew owls could howl.