Highway ran like a black silk ribbon through the darkness, punctuated by the trucks like mechanized whales on endless rounds back and forth from one coast to the other. Eyes raw with tiredness, she took another sip of the now cold cup of truck stop coffee and tried to keep her mind on the road. It had been hell. Sheer hell.
Images and sounds she couldn't suppress flew behind her eyelids. The shouting, the toppling of furniture and glass shattering. The rage churning in his eyes. His skeletal fingers clamping into her arm, digging into her skin as he sneered and spit in her battered face, telling her she was nothing. Then turning his back to her, as if she wasn't worthy of his presence.
She was shaking as she gripped the steering wheel tighter between her clammy hands.
Guilty. So guilty.
She was on the run from the man that beat her.
And she felt guilty.
What, after all had she done? What had she done? She'd stood up for herself. Why should she feel guilty?
What was she going to do without him? She'd seen his face everyday for the past five years. She married this man, fell in love with him. His lopsided smile, his dark eyes and his charming awkwardness around her. She remembered the sweet innocence of the first days of their marriage. How enchanted she was with him. How happy they were.
Then she remembered the first time he struck her. Slapped her, leaving a mark across he cheek for days. How he sobbed afterwards, begging for her forgiveness, begging for her to understand he was weak. How easily she forgave him.
She thought of how many times he hit her. How he convinced her it was her fault every time. She was never smart enough, beautiful enough, obedient enough. For five years. Twice he put her in the hospital, and twice she lied and said she fell.
She remembered how today, in the stillness of her perfect home, she looked in the mirror and saw what others were seeing. Bruises. An animal look in her eyes. Bones sharp in her face because she couldn't keep weight on.
Her eyes burned now as she squinted through the windshield. She swallowed.
She had done it. It came to her in bits and pieces, but she remembered vaguely making wudu, changing into different clothing, praying. Hearing his car door slam, his footsteps, the jingle of keys as he threw them on a table.
She didn't remember all of what she said from across the living room then, but one phrase returned to her mind as she fumbled with the car stereo.
I deserve honor.
She remembered saying that even as she saw his temper erupt, watched him leap out of his chair and rage at everything around him.
She remembered wiping his spit from her face and walking out, her gaze forward.
Feeling damaged and weak from a day that seemed to stretch on centuries, she finally relented, found the first hotel on the highway, turned into the parking lot.
The decor was tawdry and tired as she felt. Sitting on the edge of the bed, listening to the rain against the dirty windowpanes, she sipped at the tepid water she had cupped from the bathroom sink.
She should just lie here and let the housekeeper find her body weeks from now when she came to change the towels. That's how she felt, too bone tired in both body and soul.
Anger bubbled under the warm sting of pain. How did she let this happen to herself? She was always so strong, so independent. How did she let herself be used in this way?
She put her face down on the pillow, breathed in the bleach smell of the sheets, and began to cry.
Outside, lightning started to flash through the night-swollen sky.
What felt like ages later, she sat up and reached for her bag. She sat cross- legged on the bed, let the slanting light of the bedside lamp illuminate the book she held open in her lap.
And among His Signs is the sleep that you take by night and by day and the quest that you make for livelihood out of His Bounty verily in that are signs for those who listen.
And among His signs He shows you the lightning by way both of fear and of hope and He sends down rain from the sky and with it gives life to the earth after it is dead verily in that are signs for those who are wise.
The lightning flashed.
And among His signs is this that heaven and earth stand by His Command then when He calls you, by a single call, from the earth, behold, you straight away come forth. To Him belongs every being that is in the heavens and on earth: all are devoutly obedient to Him.
Moments later, after the stunned silence of the cold night, the thunder rippled through the mountains.
She set the Qur'an down gently. She made her way outside and stood very still in the center of the parking lot. Rain fell. Trucks rolled by in the night. She lifted her face to the sky, letting the rain envelop her, purify her. Water streamed down her, soaked her, seeped into her skin.
The storm crackled and boomed like a celestial concerto.
Almost audible over the tumult of the storm outside, she made a dua.
Grant my heart life after it has been dead. Purify me as this rain purifies Your earth. Grant me beautiful patience. Grant me strength because I am weak. Guide me because I am so lost. Reward me for the trials I face. Grant me Your mercy. Allow me to taste the sweetness of your Paradise. Honor me by accepting my dua as one of Your servants.
She stood there for a long time, the rain blurring her tears.
The storm rolled off into the mountains.
Shaking, she returned to the cold room, got into her bed and listened to the rain.
Daybreak.
She stared at the thin gray light coming from the gap between the curtains, feeling the pounding of a heavy head but the beating of a light heart.
After dawn, before checkout, she paid her bill, got into her car, and drove off into the cold, gray morning.