Want 4 Me 4 U

By Brig4peace

"Want 4 me 4 U" chronicles the story of a Muslim family who lives in New Jersey. Rich with humor and thoughtful illustrations of Islamic culture, the book shares the protagonist's struggles to understand the plural marriage concept.

Samia McCants' reality is different from what most others experience. Throughout the book, readers join her on a journey going through the ebbs and flows of managing her home, her work life, and her struggles adapting to a lifestyle she wants no part of. Her story offers humor, life lessons and compelling insight into a Muslim household.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9798350935202

Book preview

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Want 4 Me 4 U

©2023 Brig4peace

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

print ISBN: 979-8-35093-519-6

ebook ISBN: 979-8-35093-520-2

Dedication and

Acknowledgments

Bismillah, to begin. Brig4peace dedicates this gift for those who know:

"La hawla wala quwwata illa billah, (There is no power or strength except with ALLAH)."

For those who aren’t sure.

For those who say, Life isn’t fair.

For those swamped with life’s rocky nature.

For those wading among tidal waves.

For those dipping in bayous.

For tattered breaths and soul’s ragged depths.

For those whose day is gravy.

For those who feel me and know what I’m saying.

For the eighth grader who asked, How do I concentrate during my prayer?

For those who ask, What is prayer?

For those who ask, What is that chant?

For those who ask, Why me?

For those who ask, LORD, where are you?

For those who know they’re never alone.

Peace and blessings to all who helped with the editing, proofreading, marketing, publishing, and other moving parts involved with bringing this novel to fruition. Cherish this sadaqah jariyah (ongoing charity). My treasured soul is extricated.

Synopsis

Reader’s glimpse into the lifestyle of numerous tribes who reside here, abroad, and across the shores. Want 4 Me 4 U intertwines cultures, dangles personas, and rouses subconsciousness. Samia weaves her traditional upbringing with prophetic innovations. The lessons she learns were taught long ago but apply to the times of today. Is honoring thy LORD her par excellence? GOD’s will? Satan’s tricks? Or what Adam wants?

Brig4peace marks a space for the readership’s entertainment while earned rewards are stored. It’s artistic, poetic, and humorous. Hearts find a home in Brig4peace. Stay tuned for the brand’s tri-fold expansion.

Preface

Smile: It’s a charity. Laugh, because life is funny. Not funny all the time. Funny sometimes. Open doors close. Closed doors reopen. Opportunities are present. Not omnipresent, everywhere. Everywhere is subjective. Omnipotent, acutely aware of your presence. Our Majestic King is on the King’s Majestic Throne. Hexagons, decagons, trapezoids, or squares, never get paired in a complex snare. Influence your own power. Strut to the clout of your own brilliance. Lead courageously. The Want 4 Me 4 U cue is waiting on you. Satisfaction is 100% guaranteed as homage is paid to humanity’s bond. The bloodline is essential to our survival. Stay acquainted regardless of how or why family ties actualize. Revere your bored womb.

And to GOD belongs the most beautiful names (A’raf 7:180). Utilize the one-hundred-minus-one attributes of our LORD.

Dear AR-RAHEEM, please permit our success in this endeavor to inspire the world with your words. Bestow on us the supreme reward of seeing you in the hereafter and drinking from the fountains of paradise, ameen.

Contents

Dedication and Acknowledgments

Synopsis

Preface

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Ending Chapter

Chapter One

I rose up from the fern-green microfiber loveseat, diagonally positioned next to the partition, in the seafoam toxic-free enclosure. I sashayed across the room. The iridescent maroon, amber-gold, and lotus-green ruffled collar dress, elastic cinched above the hips, clung to my skin-colored nylon slip as it swept the staticky carpet. I pulled the chiffon with Lurex from my buttocks and straightened the shimmery coronet covering my gorgeous, auburn, sister-loc’d strands. Friction built due to the rubbing of my foot covers on the dense, durable Berber carpet. I got shocked as I slid the aluminum chain off the top plate. I rotated the dead bolt lock to the left and grabbed the metal knob with my right hand. I propped the door with my good foot and wailed, Get out! Get out of my apartment, you liar! Charizma is right. She told the truth about you having a wife. I glower at him. My mouth was open. The blindsided acknowledgement stung. Adam stood in the outer hall, perpendicular to the corner, where the slant met the wall. I caught a whiff of the sweet smell of success in his groomed sunnah beard. He sported a long-sleeved, charcoal-gray-covered placket, French tucked into his loosely fitted, slate-gray pants with a dove-gray belt through the loops. He had donned a davy gray, pin-striped, angled waistcoat over his body armor. Atop his skull, a retro gray snapback. The battleship gray and cream plaid dress socks looked neat on his feet. His fashion said something. It spoke with bullhorn loudness in neon signage, blaring, I MUST HAVE HIM. I felt compromised but stood my ground.

Your mouth is agape. Say something, Samia, said Adam.

Get out. There’s nothing more to say.

Sister Samia, you have to accept it. The fact of the matter is a Muslim man can marry more than one woman, said Sharif.

No, she doesn’t have to accept it either, Sharif! Don’t spew that nonsense out into the universe, said Brother Haroon.

I’m sorry you have to go through this, Samia. You had every right to know what was up from the beginning, said Uncle Rasul.

If Adam has a wife, he has the responsibility of being honest with her, said Haroon.

My niece decides her next move.

Valuable time was wasted this evening. I’m supposed to give a talk at the community center before iftar.

I asked you to come and perform the nikah for us, said Adam.

Yes, you did ask me to come here this evening. However, Samia flung the towel before we got started, said Brother Haroon.

You have the contract, Haroon. The dowry is in place and her uncle is here, said Adam.

No one else is here on Samia’s behalf except her wali, said Brother Haroon.

I’m sufficient. I’m the most important person that needs to be here, said Rasul.

You are sufficient, but it looks suspicious. Are you civilly divorced from your ex-husband, Samia? asked Brother Haroon.

My last marriage was annulled, I answered. I’m free to marry whoever I choose to marry.

Does anyone else have something they’re hiding? asked Brother Haroon.

Brother Haroon, why would I mislead Adam into thinking she’s divorced if she’s still married? asked Rasul.

Knowing how often this happens in Brig4peace would surprise you. This is why I don’t perform weddings in the privacy of someone’s home. When weddings take place in public places such as the masjid, it limits the chances of someone being sneaky or hiding information from their family.

It does look a bit iffy, said Sharif.

Either way, I do civil and Islamic marriages at the same time. If this is an Islamic wedding only, you have the wrong person, answered Brother Haroon.

Did you give her a cash dowry, Adam? asked Sharif.

I sure did, and it shouldn’t be a problem for you, replied Adam.

I hope you didn’t give up too much loot for a thirty-something-year-old sister, said Sharif.

Chill Sharif, man. Stay out of my pockets. My prize is worth more than I can afford. Don’t hate on me because your revolving wives get Qurans, hadith books, and khimars for their dowries, Adam jeered.

Don’t go there on me, bro. Knowledge of the Holy Quran and a set of authentic hadiths is priceless. The women I marry accept what I tell them I can afford. They get me. I’m their prize and I’m worth it too, Sharif clapped back.

Don’t be clowning right now, brothers. It’s not the time or the place, said Rasul.

If you had it your way, you wouldn’t give a woman anything but bubblegum, a stiff one, and a headache, said Adam.

It beats an unpaid promise, said Sharif.

She’ll add value to my life, said Adam.

Statistically speaking, marriage adds longevity to our lives, said Uncle Rasul.

Aight, Mr. Doctor of Philosophy, don’t be flexing on us, said Sharif.

Show some respect in my niece’s apartment, brothers.

No disrespect intended. I’m joking around, said Sharif.

Samia, rethink this situation, said Haroon.

There’s nothing to rethink. No is my answer, I said.

We had this conversation with you, Adam. We asked if you were married, and you evaded the question, said Rasul.

My unexplained evasiveness is not a sin, nor is Sahar’s omission a part of my checkered past, said Adam.

Omitting an important part of your history is wrong, Adam. Have you shared your multifaceted history with Samia? asked Brother Haroon.

I told her what she needs to know, replied Adam.

Listen, Adam, secrecy destroys relationships. If there’s anything else of importance you need to tell my niece, lay it on the table.

I have nothing else to say. Adam holds his palms up.

This is embarrassing. I’m glad my family isn’t here to witness this debacle, said Uncle Rasul. Here is your dowry. Take it back, Adam.

It’s Samia’s dowry, said Adam.

She doesn’t want it. Here, take it. It’s yours. Rasul handed Adam an envelope.

Relationships fail because folks are disingenuous, said Haroon.

There’s a laundry list of reasons why marriages aren’t unsuccessful, said Rasul.

We must do better with pre-marital inclusion. Plural marriages’ survival rates are higher when the wife is aware of the expansion, said Brother Haroon.

It doesn’t matter if the husband tells his wife in advance or asks for her permission. They can pick the incoming one and still not be on board. That’s why I don’t tell the former one about the latter woman. They know what’s up when I don’t come home. I keep two wives in my arsenal at all times. If one leaves, she’s replaced and sometimes I replace her with her friend. Sisters have a hard time accepting what ALLAH has made permissible. In chapter four, verse three, of the Holy Quran, ALLAH says, Men can have two, three, or four women, said Sharif. Therefore, I don’t need a woman to give me permission about something my LORD already granted."

The allowance is there. That is factually correct and I can’t argue against the truth, said Brother Haroon. However, the second part of the verse says, If a man can’t be just between his women, then one wife is more suitable for him. And besides that, every man doesn’t desire multiple women."

I beseech your pardon, Samia? asked Adam.

Nope, you can’t have it, I replied.

I love you, said Adam.

And? I replied.

I’ll earn your heart.

No, you won’t.

Marry me before we break our fast? asked Adam in a straightforward manner.

No way! Forget that you liar! I answered.

I don’t appreciate being called a liar, Samia.

I don’t appreciate your deceit, Adam. My head tilts right. I asked you about Sahar.

The truth is, he nods. I neglected the truth. It’s a misstep on my behalf. That’s on me. I should’ve come clean when I had a chance to, said Adam while rubbing his hands.

Why didn’t you own your truth? I asked.

I didn’t want to risk losing you, answered Adam.

Both of us are losers, and now we are done, I said.

We would make a great winning team, Sister Samia, said Adam.

We were teaming up, pouring concrete, and laying the dynasty’s foundation. The wet cement will dry, but a gaping fracture will remain between us. Polygyny is not for me. I’m not sleeping with the two of you. I’m not beat for a man. Especially a man who has a woman. Keep it pushing, brother. The door is open. Bye! Get out!

Wait for me right there, brothers. I’m going to close the door and speak to my niece. Samia, we made it clear to him from the beginning. We told him that you’re not interested in being a co-wife. He wasn’t upfront with you when we asked him. He skirted his answer, but it shouldn’t disqualify him for marriage.

Are you siding with Adam, knowing he glazed me, Uncle Rasul?

No, I’m not siding with Adam. I’m Team Samia, all day, every day, all the way. I’m the Muslim mahram in our family. Albeit seven years your junior, I’m your wali. I told him he was wrong.

Wrong is an understatement. He straight-crooked me in the final hour.

Adam is a good brother. He’s well suited for marriage, and he’s up for the task.

So what! I’m a good sister, and he messed up big time.

Be that as it may, Adam apologized for his error in front of us. Most people can’t even admit their mistakes, let alone apologize for them.

He should have apologized to me because he withheld the truth.

He loves you, Samia. I see the way you look at him. You dig him too.

I dug him too. It’s in the past. Let’s leave it there. I’m disappointed and angry.

"I know you’re heated, as you should be. This is deja vu for our family. However, it’s allowed Islamically. Take three days to cool off. Don’t be impulsive with your decision. Offer two rakats of guidance salaat. Ask AL-KABEER (the Knower of Reality), for clarity with this matter."

I leaned over the banister and watched the four of them descend the steps. The worn plank’s creaking ceased when they stopped in the entryway. Uncle Rasul unlatched the titanium gate. The self-locking handle clicked. My outer fortress was locked. My inner haven unlocked a burst of sobbing tears. I miss my father. I wish he was here. My dad would say, LyNette, cut your losses with the unsavory behavior of this notorious contender. That’s the big difference between youth and wisdom. My LORD, is this a sign to forego marriage for the third time?

I broke my fast with three Medjool dates and a swig of water. I offer the maghrib prayer. My appetite dwindled after the infuriating news. Plus, my stomach had shrunk after twelve days of fasting. I had prepared a meal for Adam’s and my first iftar together as husband and wife. The turkey wings had fallen off of the bones in the crockpot. The aromatic basmati rice, crispy cauliflower florets, and broccoli bread sat on the stove, untouched.

Patiently, I waited to pray salat-ul-isha. Afterwards, I offered eight rakats of tarawih prayer. I laid in bed. I can’t sleep. I will take Uncle Rasul’s advice to console my soul, calm my mind, and relinquish my worries to AL-MUQTADIR, (the All-Powerful).

"Bismillah Allahumma inni a’udhzu bika minal al- khubuthi wal-khaba’ithi. In the name of ALLAH, O ALLAH, I seek refuge in you from the male and female Shaytaan."

Leading with my left foot, I enter the lavatory to make a wudu. I turned the faucet on to a slow, steady stream to prevent the water from splashing on the floor. I set my intentions to purify my external self and seek the aid of my Higher Power. My mind went completely blank. I read the prerequisites of taharah from the index cards taped to the walls around the bathroom sink.

Bismillah, wipe the right hand with the left hand up to the wrist three times. Wipe the left hand with the right hand up to the wrist three times.

Rinse and gargle the mouth with water three times. Use the index finger to remove trapped particles from the gumline if necessary.

Rinse the nasal passage three times by sniffing water in and blowing it out through the nose.

Use the palm of the right hand to wipe the face, forehead, and chin from ear to ear three times.

Use the left hand to wipe the right arm up to the elbows three times.

Use the right hand to wipe the left arm up to the elbows three times.

Wipe over the head with water from front to back one time.

Wipe the inside and outside of both ears using the index finger and thumbs once.

Wipe the right foot up to the ankle three times. Don’t forget between your toes.

Wipe the left foot up to the ankle three times. Don’t forget between your toes.

"Ash-hadu an la ilaha illallahu wahdahu la shareeka lahu, wa ash-hadu anna Muhammadan ‘abduhu wa rasuluhu. Allahumma-j’alni min at-tawwabeena waj’alni minal at-mutatahhireen. (I bear witness that there is no deity worthy of worship except ALLAH. ALLAH is One and has no associates. I bear witness that Muhammad is his servant and final Messenger. O-ALLAH, join me with those who repent of their sins again and again and join me with those who keep themselves neat and clean)."

I finished the ablution, shut off the water and then exited the ¾ bath on my right foot.

"Ghufranaka. (Your forgiveness I seek, O ALLAH)."

My one-piece motif robe rested on a hook inside the cubbyhole. I twisted the knob, pushed the closet door open, grabbed the slinky outer covering, and pulled the hood over my head. I smoothed it down along my thighs and backside. I put my arms through the peasant sleeves so my face and hands could be seen.

Facing the qibla (the direction of prayer), I raised both hands with open palms to the bottom tips of my ears, saying,

"ALLAHU Akbar (GOD is Great)"

I placed my left arm across my waist with closed fingers gently touching my right side and my right hand grasping my left elbow, while saying in Quranic Arabic:

"Subhanaka Allaahumma wa bi-hamdik, wa tabaaraka smuka, wa ta’ala jadduka, wa laa ilaaha ghairuk. (Glory be to you! O ALLAH and You are praised. Blessed is Your name and exalted is Your majesty. There is no deity worthy of worship besides You).

A’udhu billahi min ash shaytaani rajeem. (I seek refuge in ALLAH from Satan the accursed).

I recite the opening chapter of the Holy Quran:

"Bismillahi-r Rahmaanir Raheem. In the name of ALLAH, the most gracious, most merciful.

Al-hamdu lillaahi rabbil `alameen. Praise be to ALLAH, the cherisher and sustainer of all the worlds.

Ar-Rahmaani-r-Raheem. (Most gracious, most merciful).

Maaliki yaumiddeen. (Master of the day of judgment).

Iyyaka na`abudu wa iyyaka nastaeen. (Only you do we worship and only your aid we seek).

Ih’dina siraatal mustaqeem. (Show us the straight path).

Siraatalladheena an `amta alayhim ghaaril-magh`doobi alayhim wa lad`dhaal’leen.

Ameen. (The way of those upon whom You have bestowed grace, not of the way of those who angered You, nor of those who have gone astray, ameen.)"

I recite Surah al-Ikhlas (the purity of faith), chapter 112.

"Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem. (In the name of ALLAH, the most gracious, the most merciful).

1. Qul huwa Allahu ahad. (Say, he is ALLAH, the one and only).

2. Allahu al samad. (ALLAH the eternal, absolute).

3. Lam yalid wa lam yulad, wa lam yaku lahu kufuwan ahad. (He begets not, nor is begotten and there is none like ALLAH)."

I unfold my arms while my elbows rest close to my torso. I raise bent arms and open palms near the bottom of my ears.

"ALLAHU Akbar (GOD is Great)."

Entering the ruku position of prayer from the hip, I bow my head forward with a straight-spined, neck-aligned back. Place the palm of my right hand on the right bowed knee and the palm of my left hand on the left bowed knee. With opened eyes focused on a spot to cop a fixed stare, because after all, surely our LORD is worthy and we’re full of despair. I mutter in a barely audible voice.

Subhana rabbi al adheem. (Glory to the LORD, the GREAT).

Subhana rabbi al adheem. (Glory to the LORD, the GREAT).

Subhana rabbi al adheem. (Glory to the LORD, the GREAT).

Samee Allahu liman hamida. (ALLAH listens to the one who praises ALLAH).

Rabbana wa lakal hamd. (Our LORD, to you is due ALL praise)."

I release the spine one vertebrae at a time while slowly standing upright.

"ALLAHU Akbar (GOD is Great)."

I collapse both knees and ease into sujood. The tips of all ten toes, both knees, the palms of both hands, the nose, and forehead (excluding the elbows), touch the carpet in prostration and total submission to our LORD. I mutter in a barely audible voice:

"Subhana rabbi al-a’laa. (Glory to the LORD, the most high).

"Subhana rabbi al-a’laa. (Glory to the LORD, the most high).

"Subhana rabbi al-a’laa. (Glory to the LORD, the most high)."

I sit in the jalsa position with