Missing Soluch (6 page)

Salar Abdullah began running again. Only a beating could even the score now. But Abbas was still faster on his feet, and quicker. He ran farther away, with fear giving him an extra incentive to run even faster than before. Running from one field to another, leaping from one ditch to another. Hopeless, Salar Abdullah stopped once again. He stood for a moment and suddenly turned around. Abrau was just placing the last stalk onto his bundle. Salar Abdullah began undoing the buckle of his belt as he strode quickly toward him. He had to undo all of the humiliation he’d seen that day. Abrau did his best to tie up the bundle before Salar Abdullah reached him, but he was too late. Just as he had lifted the bundle to his back and was beginning to escape, Salar Abdullah reached him and threw him to the ground.

“And you’re from the same stuff as that other son-of-a-whore!”

Abrau’s cries and pleading had no effect. Salar Abdullah, lost in the long folds of his cloak, circled around him like a hawk, landing blows from the left and right. His belt was thick
and heavy, and Abrau’s small and emaciated body was only covered by his pants, a shirt, and a loose jacket. Salar had lost his mind, and he clearly had forgotten that Abrau was not even fifteen years old. He bruised the boy with an endless rain of blows from his belt, kicks, and punches. When he finally stopped, as he was buckling his belt back up, he said, “Now get up. Get up and take the good news to your mama, so she knows whom she’s dealing with! And tell that rat brother of yours to keep his eyes open until we settle accounts. I’ll see him again unless he leaves this village for good. So get out of here!”

Abrau, whose old shirt and pants had been torn in different places under Salar’s blows, picked up his bundle. Sobbing with a sound like a calf’s braying, he left, limping unevenly.

Exhausted, his face and hands smeared with dirt, Abrau reached the refuge of the old fort. Abbas had gone behind the ruins to rest. The sound of uneven steps, and Abrau’s last vestiges of sobbing and sniffling, drew Abbas out from behind the ruins. Ignoring his brother, Abrau continued on his way back to the house. He only wanted to find some corner to crawl into and to burrow his head inside an old quilt. He’d taken a beating unjustly, and he was angry with Abbas. He didn’t want to see his ugly face. It always ended this way. When it came to pay the price for something, Abbas was first to run away. He’d set the fire, and then disappear. Despite all of this, Abbas could be even more impudent than his brother had realized. He stode alongside Abrau and began asking him, “Is he gone? Where’s Salar Abdullah? Which way did he go? Hey are you deaf? I’m with you, stupid!”

Abrau was stopped by Abbas’ rough, furious hands. He
stood still. Spittle gathered at the edges of Abbas’ mouth as he stared at his brother, saying, “Where the hell did he go? Didn’t you notice?”

“No.”

“Did he beat you badly? What did he use?”

“His belt. His feet. His fists. He just beat me!”

“A lot?”

Abrau didn’t answer. Abbas lifted the bundle of corkwood off of his brother’s shoulders and set it alongside his own bundle. He sat and told his brother to also sit down. Abrau dragged himself over to the wall but didn’t sit down. He leaned standing against the wall and flexed his hands.

Abbas squatted on his feet. He scraped the earth with his broken root-cutter, swore a storm of insults directed at Salar Abdullah.

“That bully! Some day I’ll settle up with him right. Just because of a bit of land and his thirty, forty sheep he thinks he’s someone. His head’s so big he can’t even fit into his clothes. Even if I only have one day to live, I’ll make him pay. I’ll cut his ankle tendons!”

Abrau listened to what Abbas was saying, but didn’t believe a word of it. His tongue was always braver than his actions. He’d puff his chest and open his mouth. What a liar! They were only lies. He’d stand up and act angry, but he’d never deliver when it counted. He always looked out for himself first. Even now, Abrau couldn’t understand why he was telling him all of this. Was his motivation to win over his brother’s feelings? Did he want to make up for the fight with a few meaningless words? What was it?

Abbas spoke up again. “You … Wouldn’t you be embarrassed
to take this tiny bundle into the village for people to see you?”

Abrau was silent. He had closed his eyes under the soft rays of the sun; his lips were firmly shut. Abbas continued with what he was saying. “Well, for me I’d be embarrassed. Even girls gather more than this to bring home. What would people say if they saw us with these pathetic bundles?”

Abrau said, “If we had a decent sickle, I’d go to another field and just fill up my bundle.”

Abbas said, “You narrow-minded little bastard! Look at how he’s willing to waste himself on work, you son of a bitch! So what are we supposed to do? I for one can’t bear the thought of walking through the village with this little bundle of wood.”

Abrau said, “Well, you have a decent sickle. Go find another field and fill your bundle.”

“Salar Abdullah’s still out in the fields. I’m afraid. I’m afraid I’ll have to beat him and finish him off! Also, my belly’s eating itself from hunger. My insides are all tied up!”

“Well, this morning you ate up all we had.”

“What was there to eat anyway? Take a look!”

Abbas thrust a hand into his pocket, brought out bread crumbs mixed with dirt and dust, and held it out before his brother.

“Here! Eat this. To your heart’s content.”

Abrau hesitated and then unwillingly reached out and took the bread bits, poured them onto his tongue, shut his large mouth, and set to chewing. It was half a mouthful. He swallowed.

Abbas said, “If we were to put our bundles together, we could sell the lot by this afternoon. I’ll sell it, get us some bread, and bring it home.”

Abrau considered his brother’s intentions. Abbas wanted
to finish the day’s work by taking all the credit for himself. Not to mention bringing home the bread. So Abrau responded, “I’ll sell it myself.”

Abbas leapt at him like a dog. “What fool do you think would take this bundle of wood off your hands? Each bundle is supposed to be enough to heat a bread oven, no? Your little pile would hardly be enough for a stove! Would it?”

Abrau said, “And you? Your little bundle? Is your pile any more than mine?”

“No!”

“So why are you shouting at me?”

“I’m not shouting at you. Listen to me for a second and you’ll see that what I’m saying makes sense. I’m saying, let’s put these two bundles together and make them one full pile. Then we’ll take it over to the old fort’s gate and find someone who’ll buy it.”

Abrau said, “Agreed. We’ll put them together, but I’ll put the full bundle on my back and I’ll take it.”

“You? You’ll take it? Am I nothing here? I’m your older brother! You want me to let you take the bundle on your back? What will people say? You don’t think they’ll just spit in my way? They’ll say, look at this worthless fool who’s making his little brother do all the work. Don’t you see how stupid what you’re saying is?”

Abrau said, “I … I’ll take it on my back. What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s wrong for a thousand and one reasons! What will others think? They’ll think I’m getting you to do all the work. Your bones aren’t even firm yet, and you want me to put a big bundle
of corkwood onto your back to carry? Am I nothing here? And if you’re injured? What then? Who will be responsible? Like Karbalai Doshanbeh, Salar’s own father, who’s been injured and now has to spend all day sitting in a corner somewhere. Your back’s not at full strength yet. I won’t let my own brother be hurt!”

Despite all this, Abrau said, “I’ll take the load.”

The veins on Abbas’ neck stood out as he screamed, “Stop being a fool, you idiot! I’m taking the load!”

Abrau, calmly and evenly answered, saying, “I’ll take the bundle up by the mosque, and you go home by the back alleys. I’ll sell it, and I’ll take the money to get bread to bring home.”

“You’ll sell it? You think you can buy and sell goods? I’ve traveled three times with Uncle Aman and have bought and sold goods myself, and now you think you should go and sell the wood? Who’ll come and buy this from a pip-squeak like you? You want to waste all the work we’ve done today? Don’t you care? I’ve scraped with my own hands and fingernails to unearth each one of these stalks of wood, and now you’re just going to go and give it all away for nothing?”

By now Abrau only had one card to play. “I’ll take and sell the wood. When you were traveling with Uncle Aman, you were only riding the donkey. You don’t think I know that? And if you were any good at that, he’d still be taking you with him. I’ll take the bundle and sell it. If you like it, fine; if not, we each can take our own. You have a sickle; if you don’t like it, go and fill up your own bundle.”

“Fine, I’ll give you the sickle!”

“Forever?”

“No! Just for today. Go and gather a decent bundle for yourself and bring it. What else do you want?”

Abrau replied, “Agreed. Give me the sickle. I have half a bundle. I’ll gather another equal pile and have a full bundle then.”

“So now you want to turn around and go to the fields carrying a bundle of corkwood? Won’t you be embarrassed? Who have you ever seen walking from the village to the fields carrying kindling wood? You want everyone to laugh at you?”

“So let them laugh. Are they giving me bread to eat that I should care if they laugh?”

Abbas ground his teeth and said, “Just stop this game playing, you fool. I’ll beat you senseless! The hungry man has no fear of God. I’ll just shut my eyes and choke you. Don’t think that just because you’re my brother, I’ll show you mercy. No! My belly’s aching from hunger. I could rip the meat from your bones just with my teeth! So come on, don’t fool around. I’m not going to go and eat all the bread this bundle will buy; you’ll have your share, too. I swear on the honor of our brotherhood. Why do you want to bother me so much? I’m at the end of my rope with you. Don’t you respect your faith and religion? Don’t you believe in God? I’m your own brother, your older brother! Aren’t you embarrassed …? You little nothing! Why do I have to talk myself hoarse to make you understand? Can’t you show a little mercy to me? You want me to lose my voice with all of this shouting? My body’s shaking all day and night from the evil you do to me. Why do you act like I’m your enemy? You want me to go mad and head out for the wastelands because of you?”

Abrau said, “I’ll take the bundle.”

“You’ll take it? Are you mocking me, you son of a bitch little
nothing! You’ll take it? I’ll show you!”

In one way or another, Abbas leapt like a rabbit onto Abrau’s pile of wood and grabbed the cloth of the bundle. Abrau also, in one leap, threw himself onto his pile and wrapped his body around it. Abbas lost control. His blood rushed to his eyes, and he saw nothing more. He only wanted to peel Abrau, who was stuck onto the pile of wood like a leech, off of the bundle and to put the two piles of wood together. He opened his arms wide and picked up the bundle—which had become one with Abrau—lifted it to his chest, and smashed it to the ground. But Abrau still clung onto his small bundle and wouldn’t let go. Abbas lifted his foot and brought a heavy blow down on Abrau’s back, so that he let out a cry. Despite this, he didn’t let go of the bundle. He was screaming and holding on. Abbas was like a mad dog. His anger was overflowing. With a struggle, despite scratching the backs of his hands badly, he managed to get his arms under Abrau’s belly and hold him in a tight embrace. He fell on one knee and pulled Abrau to his chest and stomach. But Abrau wouldn’t let go. Abbas stuck himself to his brother’s back, put his knee in the small of his back, and took his dirt-covered ear between his teeth and bit.

As a result of the pressure from Abbas’ knee, the tight hold around his body, and the pain of his brother’s teeth biting his ear, Abrau lost consciousness and, like a bit of cargo that has fallen from a load, with a quick kick, he fell onto the clods of earth beside the wall of the ruins.

Abbas’ mouth was full of blood. He spit. The blood was salty. He rolled his brother’s head on the earth and looked at his injured ear. The left side of Abrau’s face was covered in blood. The rays of the sun glittered in the crimson blood. Abbas
sat on a pile of dirt and put his head in his hands. He couldn’t even cry. It was as if he could only cry in blood-tears. He rose and gathered Abrau’s woodpile and added it to his own. He left Abrau’s cloth next to where he had fallen. He sat next to the new bundle and set it against his back.

Now that’s what you call a bundle of wood!

He set his back against the bundle and set one knee into the ground, and with an effort lifted it from the ground. He stayed bent and adjusted the heavy bundle on his back. Abrau was there, fallen before him. He passed by Abrau and stepped into the road. His shadow fell before him, and he walked with an eye to the shadow cast by the bundle. He wished it looked bigger. But it didn’t look very big from this angle. The sun was shining from behind him. So he turned and stood with his side to the sun. Now the shadow looked bigger. It gave Abbas a sense of satisfaction. He set back out on his way, going up another alley. The sound of Abrau’s heavy breaths stopped him. He turned. Abrau was running up from behind him. He stood. Abrau’s eyes looked like two hot coals. Two hot coals and smoke. Abbas felt sorry for him. Despite this, he snapped at him, “Well, now what do you want? Wasn’t what you got enough for you!”

Abrau replied, “The sickle. I want your sickle.”

Abrau returned as the sun was setting. He had a bundle of wood on his back, and sweat was dripping from the tip of his nose. His face was white in the moonlight. His lips and cheeks were trembling from weakness. His heart felt empty. The sweat that covered his face and ears was not the sweat of fatigue; more than that, it was a sweat of weakness. Of fragility. He felt as if the very fabric of his body was coming apart. He had heard the saying “If a man’s knees begin to tremble, he will eventually fall.” However, Abrau refused to fall. He conjured up the last reservoir of strength within him and took another step toward the awning of the bread oven. Gasping, he arrived and leaned the bundle against the wall, and his knees began to fold under him. The wood stalks scraped against the wall as they slid to the
ground. He sat down, leaning his back against the bundle of wood. His legs extended out beneath him, and his eyelashes, heavy with sweat, slowly shut as his arms stretched out naturally to each side. But he didn’t remove the bundle’s strap from his chest. It was as if his body was melting. His head was spinning and he felt like a kite lost in the air, fluttering along. It felt as if his body’s weight was dissipating. It felt like coming apart at the seams, like breaking apart, and transforming into the tiniest speck. Like being torn off like a meteor is torn off a star. Hanging, suspended, and abandoned. Hanging in a moment’s hesitation between being and nothingness. Selfless, blowing in the wind, swinging. It seemed to him as if nothing was tethered to its place. Dust filled the air, blowing around everything. Blowing onto the millstone, mixing with the grains of wheat. Swinging, like on a swing. Soluch once took the family on a New Year’s picnic. On that day, he hung a swing from a tree for the children. A rope hung between two willows.