The Pearl that Broke Its Shell (36 page)

Despite its tensions, the harem was a family. The older women were mothers to the younger concubines, while the younger consorts had rivalries with each other like siblings with only one toy. King Habibullah visited when he chose, appearing sometimes in daylight and other times well into the night. He came with minimal fanfare but he made no secret of his visits. Unlike the other man.

The other visitor, whoever he was, came rarely. The guards would almost believe he had tired of his mistress when he would make another appearance, always under the cloak of darkness. He must have known the guards had seen him and probably surmised that they felt powerless to stop him. Whoever he was, he boldly betrayed the king with the most sinful trespass and then returned to slumber in his palace.

Shekib wondered who could be so brazen. And why.

Amanullah stayed closer to the palace while his father ventured out into the country to check on the roads he had commissioned. He came to the harem’s courtyard from time to time, leaning over to pat his younger half siblings on the back, ruffle their hair and kick a stray ball back in their direction. Shekib watched him, her heart beating in odd tempos, wistful and hopeful. He would acknowledge her and give her a light smile, a formal nod. Like a secret handshake between them, Shekib thought.

I probably look a bit older than him but I haven’t outgrown the possibility of marriage. I am young yet, able-bodied and strong. I hope the others have told him about me, how I help the gardeners replant shrubs, how I carry the children when they grow sleepy, how I bring trays of food into the ladies’ quarters. My back is as strong as that of any soldier in the palace, my arms solid and my mind rational. Think of me, Amanullah-
jan,
and I am certain I would not disappoint a man like you.

Shekib was not the only one thinking of Amanullah’s
naseeb
.

King Habibullah also believed it was time for his son to be given a bride. In his mind, there were a handful of contenders—daughters of the viziers or his closest advisers. In his own words, words Shekib overheard one day as she stood outside his suite in the harem, “I cannot force his hand. He will choose for himself, my boy. Amanullah is different than his brothers. He is more like me than the others. And so unlike me in other ways. I sometimes wonder how I would feel about him were he not my own son.”

Shekib felt a clock ticking. Amanullah would choose a bride soon. She charged ahead with her humble efforts. She found a reason to speak to nearly anyone who crossed her path and made certain to mention that women in her family rarely bore anything but boys.

She saw him again with Agha Baraan. They crossed the palace’s grounds, returning from a meeting at Dilkhosha Palace. Shekib dug her hands into her pockets and looked around. She floated in and out of genders easily now, aware of her flattened bosom and hidden curves only in Amanullah’s presence. She tingled for him. She hoped he knew.

The men stopped at the bench. Agha Baraan plucked a red rose, breathed in its perfume and stuck it in his blazer pocket. Shekib was a good distance away but slowly and casually made her way toward them, pretending to inspect the shrubbery as she wandered over. Once seated, their view was blocked by the greens and they were unaware of the woman-man guard at their side, eavesdropping and flirting.

“So you have decided?”

“I am ready, Agha Baraan. I think it is time for me to take a wife. I want to have a legacy of my own and I must start a family to do so. I want to have at my side a woman who is thoughtful and who will be as dedicated to Kabul as I am. I am confident in my decision. She is strong-willed and has undergone hardship; people have turned against her and yet she walks with her head held high. When I see her face, I see that she brings with her a gentle understanding because of what she has experienced.”

Shekib froze.
Her face? Could he be talking about my face? Yes, people have turned against me! Nearly everyone has turned against me! But I would work so hard for Kabul! I would do anything he needs!
She did not move, terrified that she would give her presence away.

Maybe Agha Baraan had told him about her? Maybe he had shared those morsels she had laid out for him and maybe they knew she was listening at this very moment.

“And what will your father say? I mean, given where she comes from…”

“I know that, but it was my father and this palace that introduced me to her.”

Shekib’s eyes widened. Indeed, it was King Habibullah who had brought her to the palace and into his son’s life. She straightened her shoulders, wanting to comport herself as a palace woman would.

“I will speak with him again tonight. I have brought this up before but he did not believe I was serious.”

Baraan took a deep breath.

Shekib said nothing to the other guards but for two days they shot each other looks, noticing a change in her. Ghafoor had to repeat herself three times before Shekib would notice she was talking. Karim and Qasim watched her meals go barely touched and shared her leftovers when she walked away. Tariq tried to approach her, to talk about her dreams of motherhood. Shekib blankly nodded and shook her head in a way that told Tariq she might as well have been talking to the pigeons.

Two days passed as such. In the nights, Shekib stared at the wall, pictured Amanullah’s face and imagined how someone from the palace might approach her with his proposal. Where would she live? She would grow her hair. She would wear makeup, as some of the women in the harem did from time to time. A British woman visiting the palace had brought rouge and powder, showing the women how to lighten their complexions and bring an alluring tint of color to their cheeks. Shekib wondered if the powder could conceal her disfigurement, her half mask.

On the third night, Shekib was on duty. She stood outside the harem, watching the palace and wishing her mother was alive. She took longer than she should have to react to the footsteps and talking inside the harem. Halima was at the front entrance just when Shekib was starting to realize something was going on.

“It’s Fatima! She’s not well. We need to send for the doctor!”

Fatima had taken a dramatic turn for the worse and with it, Shekib’s
naseeb
changed course.

CHAPTER 39

T
he road was bumpy. My sides ached with every jolt. Badriya watched me from the corner of her eye. The experienced first wife wasn’t surprised. Last night Abdul Khaliq had asked me to visit him. I entered his room quietly. Although I was no longer a new bride, the nights with my husband still repulsed me. I had to take my mind elsewhere, think of the chores I still needed to do or school days when the
moallim
would teach us to sing our multiplication tables to memory.

Whenever my wifely obligations were fulfilled, I would wait to hear my husband’s snores, a signal that I could put myself back together and retreat to my room. Last night was different.

Badriya and I were set to leave in the morning for my first trip to Kabul. I was excited but anxious about leaving Jahangir behind. Abdul Khaliq’s even breaths told me he was relaxed but not yet asleep. I took a chance.

“I wanted to ask something… ,” I said hesitantly. I looked for the combination of words that wouldn’t anger him right away. He looked surprised to hear me speak. With a raised eyebrow, he told me to explain.

“Tomorrow… because I will be helping Badriya-
jan
. . . I was hoping I could take Jahangir with me so that—”

“Jameela will watch him.”

“But I didn’t want to trouble her. She’s already got her own to look after.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“And I want to be sure that Jahangir eats well. Sometimes he can be so picky…”

I had said too much.

“Then don’t go!” he thundered. “It was an idiotic idea to start with! Now I have to listen to you nag! You appreciate nothing!”

He was up now, the sheets pulled behind him, leaving my legs uncovered.

“I’m sorry—” I started to say, hoping to stymie the reaction I could see coming.

It was too late. Abdul Khaliq spent the next thirty minutes making me regret I’d spoken.

I realized then my husband understood people. He knew just how to get to people to do what he wanted, to make them angry or sad or fearful. I realized that was probably how he had been successful at whatever it was that he did.

Morning came and I kissed my sleeping son before laying him on a cushion in Jameela’s bedroom. I touched his cheek and watched as his lips turned slightly in a dreamy smile.

Jameela bit her lip when she saw my face. My cheek was starting to turn a deeper red, a bruise in the outline of a hand taking shape.

“He’ll be fine, Rahima-
jan,
” she said warmly. “I’ll have Jahangir sleep right next to me with your blanket. We’ll talk about you until you come back. This will be good for you, you’ll see.”

I was grateful and knew Jahangir loved being with her and her children. Still, I hated to leave my son.

Two weeks,
I thought.
We’ll be back in two weeks for our first break. It’s not that long, right?

I ran my fingers through his dark locks once more and leaned over to kiss his head. He turned onto his side, his perfect lips parting just wide enough for me to see his petite teeth.

“It’s okay, Rahima-
jan
. He’ll be fine, you’ll be fine. You’ll see,” Jameela said. She hugged me delicately, knowing one bruise heralded the presence of others.

I carried my duffel bag out to the car. Bibi Gulalai and Badriya were outside, as was Hashmat. He looked over and smiled snidely.

“Good morning!” he called out.

“Good morning,” I mumbled, my mind still on Jahangir’s soft face. I was in no mood for Hashmat’s facetiousness today. “
Salaam,
Khala-
jan
.”

She ignored my greeting. “You’re ready for your trip to Kabul I see. I don’t know how you could leave a young boy to go off doing things you’ve no business doing. My son is being kind in allowing this, so you better make yourself very useful to Badriya.”

“That’s right,” Badriya echoed.

“I doubt she’ll be worth the trouble she’ll cause,” Bibi Gulalai muttered.

Hashmat laughed. “Isn’t that nice that you’ll be joining Madar-
jan
in Kabul! I bet all your classmates would be jealous if they knew you were going to see the city,” he said.

I shot him a sharp look that went unnoticed by Bibi Gulalai and Badriya. Hashmat made a point of talking about my
bacha posh
days and my male classmates as often as he could. He used to do it in front of his father but it sometimes resulted in such an explosion of anger that he would be caught in the overflow. Something about me as a
bacha posh
had piqued Abdul Khaliq’s interest, but now he could not tolerate hearing about me even sitting next to boys in school.

Abdul Khaliq’s guards put our bags in the back of the car. We donned our
burqas
and climbed into the backseat.

Don’t speak to the guards. They’ll watch out for you but if you do anything… let me assure you… you’ll regret it. And in Kabul, I have people. I will hear about everything you do. If you do anything to embarrass me, I promise you that you’ll wish you never stepped foot in that city.

He was clear. I was thankful Jahangir was too young to cause much trouble. Abdul Khaliq’s temper came hard and fast and often without warning. I had asked Jameela to make sure Jahangir did not get in his father’s way. I wouldn’t be there to shield him.

These thoughts played over and over until the rough road finally lulled me to sleep in the backseat. Badriya was in no mood to talk. She leaned her head on the window and started to snore lightly.

I don’t know how many hours passed before structures came into view again. There were buildings, houses, horses and cars. I sat up straight. We were in a jeep with tinted windows so I dared to look out and see what the people of Kabul looked like. My mind jumped to Bibi Shekiba and her first impressions of the capital, as Khala Shaima told it.

I was the same, wide-eyed and amazed, but in a different way. I had never seen so many cars and people in one place! It looked as if everyone who lived in Kabul owned a car. And store after store, the streets were lined with exotic wares and different foods. Bakeries, tailors, even a beauty salon! This was so different from home. I wished Shahla could be here to see it all with me. Or the boys. There were so many places we could have explored if we’d grown up here!

“Kabul is… Kabul is amazing!” I exclaimed.

Badriya seemed entertained by my reaction. “Of course it is! There’s a lot going on here. We won’t have time for me to point everything out to you.” I saw Maroof and Hassan in the front seat look at each other. It was unlikely Badriya had actually seen any of Kabul. She had complained to Jameela that the guards took her from her hotel to the parliament building and back. “We’re almost there. We’re going to be staying at a guesthouse run by some Europeans.”