Fatal Convictions

3

By now, the nurses knew the routine. Ghaniyah had been in the private ICU room for nearly twenty-four hours, and Khalid had performed the salat four times. This would be his fifth.

He glanced at the monitors, kissed Ghaniyah on the forehead, and shut the door to her room. It still seemed strange going through the salat without her. Though the couple had their differences, Khalid had never questioned his wife’s loyalty to Allah. At each salat, she would place her prayer mat behind Khalid and repeat the prayers with him. Her voice was passionate and unwavering. She never seemed to harbor the questions and doubts that sometimes tarnished her husband’s faith. But yesterday and today, Ghaniyah had remained silent during the prayer times, her eyes vacant, her lips unmoving. Khalid had tried to muster the faith for two.

Purity was half the faith, a concept that had been drilled into Khalid since childhood. He used the bathroom sink for his purification ritual, taking off his shirt and washing his hands and forearms up to each elbow. He washed his mouth and nose, snorting the water back into the sink. He washed his face from forehead to chin and ear to ear, including his entire beard. He wet his right hand and passed it over his thick black hair. Then he washed his feet, up to the ankles. He put on clean clothes, a loose-fitting long black shirt and clean slacks. He washed his hands again and left the bathroom, rolling out his floor mat at the foot of Ghaniyah’s bed.

He told her that he was getting ready to say his prayers.

She stared into space, giving him no reaction.

“Do you want to join me?”

She nodded. But he could tell from the faraway look in her eyes that he would be going through the ritual alone. The doctors said he needed to be patient. Give her time. She would remember a little more every day; her personality would return little by little.

“Will she fully recover?” he had asked.

“I wish we could be more definitive, Mr. Mobassar. But truthfully… it’s impossible to say.”

Khalid stood now at the edge of his mat, hands together, chest facing toward Mecca. He silently recited his intention to pray, focusing his thoughts on Allah.

He took a deep breath and began his chants. “Allahu akbar,” he said, cupping his hands behind his ears. Allah is the greatest. In rhythmic motion, he moved his hands to his side. “Subhana rabbiya al azeem…” Khalid’s words were strong and confident. He resisted the urge to tone down his prayers so that he didn’t disturb others in adjoining rooms. Allah would not honor those who were ashamed.

He faithfully performed each raka’ah, the supplications to Allah and recitations from the Qur’an, some in a standing position, others sitting, some prostrate, his forehead and both palms touching the prayer mat. It felt lonely without the strong voice of Ghaniyah behind him.

He was in a prostrate position, his first sujud, when he thought he heard her repeat the words he had just spoken. “Subhaana rabbiyal Allah” -to God be the glory. He feared it was a psychosomatic reaction on his part, the way victims report pain in their hands even after an amputation. She had been there for so long, affirming and repeating his prayers, that his mind was playing tricks.

He rose to a kneeling position, hands on his thighs. “Allahu akbar.” This time he heard it more clearly-a hoarse voice from the bed. He resisted the strong urge to go to her and instead began the second sujud. “Subhaana rabbiyal Allah,” Khalid chanted. His wife had definitely joined him again, her voice feeble but determined.

Khalid tried to finish his prayers without rushing, a deliberate focus on a merciful God. He said the last Allahu akbar with an intensity that had been missing earlier in the day. Tonight, Allah was a miracle worker.

He stood and moved next to his wife’s bed. He took her hand, and she squeezed his, as if she knew that something significant had just happened. He bent down and kissed her on the forehead.

“Allahu akbar,” she said.

Khalid stood and gazed at his wife of thirty-two years. Though she had tubes in her nose and her face was swollen and purple, her eyes showed signs of life and recognition.

“Welcome back,” Khalid said, though Ghaniyah didn’t respond. “Praise be to Allah.”