He knocked a bit louder, and still his mother did not appear. His soft knocks turned into loud thumps, and in the adjacent apartment, a dog, a small o...e, barked excitedly. ‘She must be home,’ thought the Imam. He banged on the door again, this time with even more force. The dog barked uncontrollably. Suddenly he heard the locks unlatch, and in the doorway appeared his mother, Maryam. Her small face, grossly thin and hollow, showed dark rings under her eyes, and she wore a cotton night-suit. This was Friday night, and she was going to have a Friday night for once.She had her hair down, literally as well as figuratively. She had her old contacts in. She would wear her tightest jeans and a Missou T-shirt -- extra small -- she had bought at the bookstore just this morning. She was already wearing her sheerest bra. The boys wouldn’t even look at her face. To keep the girls from recognizing her, she would drop the professor-sounding voice she had practiced so hard. Nobody was going to. More

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