I am sitting in a conference room downtown at a big ass wooden table across from my soon-to-be ex-husband, Wakil Bashir, with my lawyer, Beth. His old butt is sitting across the table in a suit and tie, looking like one of those Nation of Islam brothers. Who dressed him this morning? This is what I mean, that is why we are right here, right now.
I really don’t remember how or why I was even attracted to him in the first place. And I don’t even know why I let him drag me to this messed up state anyway from Atlanta. He was all promising me the world and stuff. I should’ve known that once a Muslim nigga’ always a Muslim nigga’, he didn’t give me nothing that I really wanted. Shoot, I just turned thirty years old last month and I could still can beat out all the little young things that be sprouting up everywhere. Always asking if my man had a woman. You know what? I am going off of topic.
But anyways, I looked good for my age. I was fit, I was thick and I was a strong Muslim woman that held it down. I was always independent, that’s what my momma’ taught me. Never trust a nigga’ and hey that’s been my motto for like ever.
And it’s worked for me so far. Well except for right now. I am getting divorced. But you know what? Life goes on. I will find something bigger and better. Preferably not in Michigan. Everybody knows everybody and everybody has been with on the low-low or married to everybody. And that wasn’t my thing. I had a little bit more class than that. And I didn’t want people to be up in my business. Because I had a bad temper and I didn’t want to have to beat somebody’s wife down or slash someone’s tires.
Beth leaned over to my ear and whispered, “His lawyer is here now so let us do all the negotiating.”
“Uh, I know that. This is the second time you’ve told me that,” I whispered back a little louder.
She cleared her throat, “Ms. Shareef, I am letting you know again because you know what happened last time.”
I looked around sheepishly, “Yeah, yeah. Your right.” I sat back up and zipped my lips straight across and through away the key.
I believe she was referring to about a month ago when the property negotiations began and he had said something disrespectful about I shouldn’t get anything from the condo in Birmingham. I went off. But not this time. I was going to be good. The longer we argued the longer it would take to get him out of my life.
His lawyer took a seat and I crossed my legs and waited for the BS to begin. Every word out his mouth was a load of horse sh…
“Good evening, everyone. Shall we get started.”
I looked at Wakil and then crossed my arms over my chest and rolled my eyes. I didn’t even want to look at him anymore. I have been over him since way back when. Honestly, I don’t know where we went wrong. I know I wasn’t the best Muslim but dang he wasn’t spending enough time with me and he wasn’t providing me with mental stimulation. All men should know that woman are emotional creatures and we have to be stimulated mentally and emotionally first before you can even reach the physical part. That’s psychology 101. Duh.
Wakil was in his late 40’s but he could hang like a young cat. And he knew what he wanted in life. He wasn’t on that illegal trip like most young Black Muslim men that I knew. I wasn’t into all of that. I wanted to be taken care of, that’s what I deserved. I mean I was living good in Atlanta; I had a nice job and a nice house. Then he came along and promised me the world.
I would’ve been stupid not to take him up on that offer.
He owned an import/export business that originated in Georgia and then he opened up one in Dearborn. He treated his business like a baby, he wanted to be near it as it grew large and boy did it grow large. Allah blessed him with a successful business and a loving wife. What more could he want?
I was still down south and missing him when he called me up one day. He told me that if I moved to Michigan with him we could spend more time together and wouldn’t have to live worlds apart anymore. For him I made that sacrifice. And I would soon regret it.
He came up to me one day and asked me how I felt about a second wife. I went off on him. Because he’d never asked me about that until we moved here. So I could only speculate that “those” brothers, yeah the broke ones with no money that have two or three wives had gotten into his head and planted an ugly seed. After that day he never brought the topic up again. But out bliss didn’t last long. He then started pressuring me about a baby. I said “oh hell naw, who you been talking to now!”
Again he didn’t tell me who put that idea into his head but I could sense that it was one of them no-good brothers that got five kids and six baby momma’s and don’t pay for none of them. I wasn’t about to mess up my body or my lifestyle for no rugrat. I wasn’t ready. I was still working on myself and my Islam, although it was taking longer than I thought.
“Asalam’alikum, Nabila.”
My upper lip went up and I muttered, “Wa’alakum salam…brother.”
He smiled, “Oh, I am a brother now?”
I didn’t make eye contact and snorted, “If it quack like a duck then it must be a duck.”
Beth looked at the both of us probably thinking they’re about to get started again. “Ok, hey, can we start the proceedings.”
The other white lawyer quickly agreed. To them all we were was time. And time to them equaled money. He began by opening up his manila folder and pulling out sheets and placing them in a row. “So this is what we got concerning the condo.”
Beth took the papers and looked them over, she then handed them to me. I seen some pie charts and then at the bottom was an amount. I whispered in her ear. “Ms. Shareef wants to know what this bottom number is supposed to represent.”
He cleared his throat, “Oh, well, that’s the sum she would be settling for.”
My eyes bulged out of my head. Beth put her hand on my lap to keep me from getting up. “Let me handle this… uh, the condo is worth over 100 grand, this number is less than 1/5 of the market value. How did you come up with this figure?”
“Well,” his lawyer began. “We factored in a multitude of things.”
“Like,” Beth motioned with her hand.
“Like for instance, who paid the real estate agent, who paid the utilities and the mortgage, who furnished the home.”
I felt myself getting heated. Heated beyond words. I couldn’t hold myself back. How dare he not give me half of what I helped him earn. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Wakil!”
Beth put her hand on her forehead, “Here we go again.”
“Oh, so I am not a brother anymore?” he grinned.
“You conniving, trifling, son-of-a…”
“You know what,” Beth stood up and gathered her papers. “I quit. I can’t deal with the constant bickering and fighting going on between you guys. When you get it together call me.”
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