Missing Soluch (28 page)

Although Raghiyeh had spent a few mornings in a town hospital, there was no sign of improvement in her. Day by day, this broken woman deteriorated. It was as if she was melting,
as if her bones were shrinking and the skin on her face was drying. She didn’t have the energy to speak for long, and her legs couldn’t even transport her skin and bones from one place to another.

Abbas approached her and with a loud voice—as if she had gone deaf—he said, “How are you doing? How are things?”

Raghiyeh leaned against the wall and caught her breath. It was as if she could die at any moment. Leaning on the wall, she slid into a seated position and stayed grasping the walking stick with both hands like a pillar. She sighed sadly. It was an effort for her to make any sound, and she could barely raise her voice to be heard by Abbas. She sounded very far away. It was as if she were speaking from behind hills of gravel, or from the center of a furious tempest. She no longer had the sound of a woman, a human. She sounded like a lamb that had strayed from the herd and had been caught in a wasteland alone. It was the sound of exhaustion, thirst, of the sadness of a life in the desert, near death. The sound was not the sound of Raghiyeh but the soft murmur of dry wheat in the wind. It was as if a thorny handful of barley were blocking her throat. The sound seemed to rise from beneath the earth, as if Raghiyeh had already died.

“No. I’m dying. I’m dying. I was going … I was going to go to your house … your house …”

“Yes?”

“I was going … to tell your mother … Oh God …! My breath … why can’t … I catch my breath?”

“Yes? To tell her what?”

“To tell her … that … that … she could have waited … at least until … I died before …”

“Before what?”

“Before … before giving … her daughter … to my husband … but … but … I turned back … I didn’t tell her … because … I realized … What good …? What good would it be?”

Raghiyeh leaned her head against the walking stick. She waited for a moment and then tried to lift herself up with all of her strength. But she couldn’t, and she sat down again. Abbas grabbed her under the arm and helped her up. She stood and leaned against the wall with one hand. She caught her breath and then slowly began walking. She went slowly and calmly, like a turtle, only slower. Abbas thought to himself, “It will take her all night just to go the short distance back to her home. What if she dies on the way?” He heard her voice.

“It’s not right … Oh God …! I pray on Zaynab’s misery … I pray on Zaynab’s sacrifice … Just don’t let this happen …”

The sound of her voice was swallowed in the turns of the alley, and Abbas headed back to his home, walking more slowly than before.

On this night, the house had a strange atmosphere. There were no visitors to their home, but inside it seemed more alive than usual. Everyone in the house had broken the humdrum continuity of their nightly routines, and their actions had a new hue and color to them. It was like when the autumn morning light shines on the wheat harvest; the old dry husks that contained them had begun to open and fall away, letting them flutter individually in the way that was their nature. They blew in the wind, this way and that. Some even took to the wind, flying. Each had its own reason for joyfulness. In the midst of this, although he tried not to show it, Ali Genav was the happiest of all, while Mergan was also happy, in her own way. Her life had
been shaken; the wedding of a daughter is always a point of pride for a mother, and seen from her perspective, Mergan was satisfied. Even Hajer was now more or less satisfied, because she was slowly approaching that stage that customarily most girls, more or less, anticipate: marriage.

Hajer had brought herself to believe that most marriages are only slightly desirable but become more acceptable with a bit of imagination. It’s a human affair, after all! One can quite often just choose to overlook certain things. Like the fact that Hajer wasn’t yet thirteen, or the fact that Ali Genav’s beard was turning gray. And most of all, the fact that she was marrying a man who not only still smelled of his first wife, but who also lived with her. Also, this wife lived her life as a ghost, pacing around their little house with a cane. Raghiyeh … a woman transformed into anger and complaints, whose voice seemed to emanate from the mud-brick walls. She was a woman with eyes that watch the world from behind an inner curtain. Eyes covered by dust, tinted with the color of sleep, which watch you from the depths of their sockets. They keep looking at you and ask you something silently. They only say one thing; something wordless, something impossible to express. A thousand words could be said, but that one last one would be left unsaid, a word that keeps on bothering you. But it’s a human affair, after all. Some things can just be overlooked. No doubt, Hajer would have to overlook many things.

Ali Genav said, “Hopefully, we’ll just sign the marriage contract there. I know a certain Molla.”

Mergan put a cup of tea before Ali Genav and said, “Hopefully!”

Abbas was in the doorway. Mergan looked at Abbas and asked, “So? What did he want?”

Abbas sat down right there in the doorway.

“He wanted the plot in God’s Land. So I gave it to him.”

“Gave it? What did you give?”

“That scrap of land!”

Mergan couldn’t tell if her heart had suddenly frozen, or if it was her head that caught fire. She rose to her knees and said, “To Mirza Hassan?”

“To all of them!”

“With whose permission?”

“With my own permission!”

“But who are you? Who do you think you are?”

“I’m Soluch’s oldest son. The oldest son. That’s what they told me.”

“Are you responsible for all of us? You can’t speak for all of us! That piece of land belongs to the whole family!”

“I just sold my portion. Did you expect this to be like the coppers that you took and secreted away somewhere? Anyway, you’re Soluch’s wife and can’t inherit the land. That’s what they told me. A woman can only have a claim on the house and the household. That’s what they said.”

Mergan went limp, leaned her head and shoulders against the wall, and cried out, “Oh God! May God strike you down! You’ve ruined us! Ruined us! Now how am I going to hold my own in the face of those thieving, cunning men?”

Abbas said, “You’re ruining us yourself! Everyone else is taking their offer and going; it’s only you who’s holding out like a stubborn mule!”

Mergan raised her head from the wall.

“If they gave everyone everything and a bit more, I wouldn’t care! Why are you breaking away from your own family and joining those sons of bitches?”

“Because I wanted be done with this business! Why are you so shortsighted? It’s clear that in the end they’ll take the land, so why fight about it? Do you think I can fight them? When the game’s up, you’re better off giving in. Kicking and screaming at that point is of no use! And from now on we’ll have to come to terms with them, so we’ll be beholden to them. They’ll have a hand in everything. Take a look; who’s offering to hire your other son to work with the tractor?”

Mergan and Ali Genav both turned to look at Abrau, who, despite looking at the ground, felt the sharp, heavy glare of his mother’s eyes on his forehead. He couldn’t stay silent. He looked up and said, “Abbas is right. After tomorrow, I’m not working at the baths. I’m working with the tractor!”

Ali Genav asked, “What? You’re going to work with the tractor? So what about your job at the baths? Now that winter’s over, you’re free to fly away? That’s the customary way of behaving?”

Abrau didn’t look at Ali Genav while he replied.

“I never promised to work at the baths till the end of my life. If something better comes up, you have to take it!”

Ali Genav gritted his teeth. “Fine, great! But I’ll remember this, be sure of that!”

Abrau realized it would be better to speak his mind honestly, so he turned to Mergan.

“I’m thinking of selling my portion to Salar Abdullah and his partners as well. How long am I supposed to live in these tattered rags like a flea? I want to go to town and buy myself a decent pair of pants. You can’t work on a tractor wearing torn, worn-out clothes!”

Abrau ended his statement by standing up, and began to get ready to leave. He didn’t want to continue the discussion he had
just started. Mergan wiped the edges of her eyes with her scarf and spoke with a trembling voice.

“He’s talking about ‘my portion’ as well! He doesn’t understand what’s really important!”

Ali Genav said, “So tonight, I’ll have to go to prepare the furnace for the baths myself.”

Mergan didn’t say anything. Ali Genav rose.

“So tomorrow, at dawn, I’ll come to get you!”

Mergan only nodded her head. Ali Genav left.

In the alley, Ali Genav saw the two brothers walking shoulder-to-shoulder toward Zabihollah’s house.

“May it be a blessing. Congratulations, Ali Akbar Khan! Congratulations!”

Hajj Salem and Moslem had materialized before Ali Genav. Moslem walked right up to him. Ali Genav said, “Wait until morning. Morning is better. I have nothing in my pockets right now. Hopefully in the morning.”

Hajj Salem rubbed his son’s neck with his walking stick. “You beast! Wait until morning. Every day is God’s day. Now let’s go to Auntie Mergan’s house to offer our services. I’m sure that given it’s the auspicious day of her daughter’s wedding, she’ll offer to whitewash our humble nest!”

Father and son began walking in the darkness toward Mergan’s house.

Ali Genav waited for a moment, then turned away from his own home and began following Hajj Salem and his son.

Abbas and Abrau left from Zabihollah’s home. Zabihollah had even paid Mergan’s share to Abrau, who was worried about finding a place to hide his own portion without mixing it up
with his mother’s money. Abbas, playful and chummy, made circles around his brother, saying, “Zaminej is full of money! You know, everyone’s rich now! Today, so much money has changed hands, so many have been paid by Mirza and his partners—they’ve been giving out money since the morning!”

Abrau said, “These guys mean business. Not like Ali Genav, with the pittance he pays! The source of his generosity is smaller than a rooster’s asshole! When he agrees to pay you a couple of coins, he acts as if he’s giving life to the angel of death! The cheap son of a bitch! You want to earn a real living with a man, but not with someone like that. It seems I really broke his heart, but I liked it! Now he has to get up in the middle of the night and work the furnace until morning, just to learn what it means to never sleep! It’s as if he thought that by marrying into the family, he’d become our lord and master as well!”

Abbas said, “I’m not happy even about his marrying into the family. I’m afraid we’ll get caught up with his wife and her problems.”

“Tell me about it! His wife is constantly going around cursing everyone!”

“But it’s too late now; everyone’s heard all about it. What can we do? We have to let him take her! At least he’ll give her a roof over her head. In a way we’ll be freer, ourselves. To each his own destiny!”

The boys talked as they walked down the tightly woven alleys of Zaminej. They spoke of everything, even Soluch. It was so dark, they couldn’t see each other’s eyes. Perhaps this allowed them to speak more frankly. Their complaints of each other were lost in the darkness, and a natural feeling of fraternity
took its place. Because of this, Abrau became worried about Abbas’ plans and future.

“What are you planning to do? Would you go with the other guys, or do you want to stay?”

“I’ll stay. There’ll be work here during the spring. I’ll herd the camels until the Sardar wants to take them out on a caravan. He may even want me to go out on the caravan with him. If the wages are good, I may just go. I like camel herding.”

“That’s not bad—camel herding’s not bad. But what will come of it? In a single night, these cargo trucks can take the same load that forty camels used to take in forty days! Eventually, we’re just going to have to fatten up all the camels and put them under the knife! In Zaminej, other than the Sardar, who has camels anyway? No one! Take Karbalai Doshanbeh. He used to have forty camels. But he got rid of them. He sold his camels and put what he got into money lending. Now he’s sitting on a pot of treasure like a dragon. The heartless bastard! He’s not even used ten
qerans
of his money for anything so that a few other people could possibly earn a bit of bread from it. That’s why I’ve always liked Mirza Hassan. He eats well but he also helps others eat. He’s like a lion, and Karbalai’s like a jackal. The lion eats his fill and then backs off, but a jackal will hide the rest of a carcass where others can’t find it.”

Abbas said, “Well, to each his own. In any case, Mirza Hassan and his partners are some twenty or thirty years younger than Karbalai Doshanbeh. Some of them have seen other towns and cities. Mirza himself has been in contact with all sorts. He’s even had relations with Arabs and other foreigners. These all make a difference.”

“In any case, I think you have to pursue some kind of work that has a future. Not camel herding. Can you think of anyone here in Zaminej who’s made a living from that?”

“No.”

“So? And you want to spend your life with that work?”

“But what choice do I have?”

“You have a choice! Leave! Follow the other guys and leave here! Just do whatever they do. At least you’re healthy; you can go and see the world, which is a good thing, in and of itself. If all I had to do was to work at the baths, I’d leave in an instant.”

“I can’t imagine leaving Zaminej, though. The idea of traveling is in my head all the time. But I don’t have the heart to. But … let’s see what happens. We’ll see!”

Abbas didn’t want to pursue the topic any further. Despite the fact that he didn’t give much weight to Abrau’s arguments, they did nonetheless prick at his heart. They didn’t affect the roots of his convictions, but they shook their branches and leaves. They made him feel ambivalent and frustrated. They didn’t change his path, but they bothered him all the same. So he didn’t want to hear any more. He changed the topic.

“Why not head over to Auntie Sanam’s house? I’ll bet you there’s a round of gambling going on there. Mirza Habib’s made all the poor beggars into rich men.”