The Pearl that Broke Its Shell (43 page)

I moved away from the door but lingered in the hallway.

“When did this come up?” Badriya said when I was out of view.

“Right when you all left. He knows her brother. I wish he never would have taken this stray. I don’t know what he wanted with Rahima. Such a worthless family.”

“I agree. Why he wanted a
bacha posh
for his wife, I’ll never understand. But, Khala-
jan,
why do you think he would want to get rid of her? She is the youngest here and he wanted her for something…”

“He will. I think he knows now that she was a mistake. And he wants to make up for it with this one. He’s going to marry her.”

“But why not just keep her and marry this girl?”

“Because he’s living by the
hadith
! He is a respected man in this village, in this province! He leads by example, so he is doing as the Prophet said. And the Prophet, peace be upon him, said that a man should take no more than four wives at a time. This wouldn’t have been a problem if he wouldn’t have taken that
bacha posh
.”

My throat went dry. What was my husband planning? A fifth wife?

“Well, God bless him. It’s admirable that he wants to be such an upright, devout Muslim.”

Bibi Gulalai gave a quick hum, agreeing with Badriya’s praise of her son.

“Just don’t say anything to Rahima about this. She’s wild enough as it is. We don’t need her or her insane aunt Shaima making a fuss about this. It’s none of their business anyway.”

“I won’t say a word but she’ll find out soon enough…”

The kids were coming down the hall. I slinked away from the door and melded into their footsteps.

I needed to talk to Jameela. Would Abdul Khaliq really try to get rid of me? How?

“Why? What did you hear?” Jameela said, her eyes narrowed.

I recounted the conversation for her. She listened intently.

“I don’t know anything more than that. Bibi Gulalai will only talk to Badriya, of course, her angel. The rest of us will only hear when something happens. But God help us all. If he really does this, it’s going to be a disaster.”

“But do you think he’ll take a fifth wife? He wants to get rid of me, Jameela-
jan
. Can he do that?”

“He can do—” Jameela started to say, but changed her response after a brief pause. “I don’t know, Rahima-
jan
. I really don’t know.”

We left it unsaid. If he wanted to take another wife without going over the limit, that would mean getting rid of one of us, and Bibi Gulalai had already made it clear that I was the expendable one. I’d once prayed my husband would send me back to my parents. Now that would mean leaving my son behind. Jameela had told me of one girl who had been sent back to her father’s house, her husband dissatisfied with her as a wife. The girl’s family, unable to tolerate the shame, refused to take her in. No one knew what happened to her.

Four weeks since our return. Jahangir came into our bedroom, where I was mending a tear in my dress, the blue housedress Badriya had warned me against wearing in Kabul. And after seeing how most of the women parliamentarians dressed, I could see why. But it was in fair shape and there was little chance of new fabric coming my way.

Jahangir called out to me. I looked up, surprised to see Khala Shaima hobbling a few steps behind him. She had never come into this part of the house.

“Khala-
jan
!
Salaam,
Khala Shaima-
jan,
you came! I was so worried about you!” I scrambled to greet her.

Khala Shaima put a hand on the door frame, leaning forward and steadying her breathing.

“
Salaam… ah… salaam, dokhtar-jan
. Damn Abdul Khaliq for building his compound so far from town,” she panted as I kissed her hands. I could hear the air whistle in her lungs. I quickly glanced in the hallway to be sure no one heard her curse my husband.

“I’m so sorry, Khala Shaima-
jan
. I wish I could come to you.”

“Eh, forget it. I’ll walk as long as my feet allow. Now, let me sit and get myself together. You must have something to tell me from your trip. And what the hell are you doing back here for so long?”

I told her about everything, the hotel, the guards, the buildings and the foreign soldiers. Then I told her about the bombing and the reason we came back.

“I heard about that on the radio. Bastards. Can’t handle a woman with a voice.”

“Who do you think was responsible?”

“Does it matter? They may not know who brought the bomb there but we all know why. She’s a woman. They don’t want to hear from her. The last thing this country needed is one more cripple. And that’s what we’ve got now.”

“She’s not dead? What happened to her?”

“You don’t know?”

“We heard so many things before we left. And here no one cares to find out. I’m sure Abdul Khaliq knows, but…”

“But you’re not going to ask him.”

I shook my head.

“It seems the bomb went off just next to her car. Exploded and killed one of her guards. But she survived the attack. I think they said her leg was burned but nothing more.”

“Is she going to come back to the parliament?”

“She wants to.”

I didn’t doubt that. Zamarud was not one to be scared off easily. I wished I could be more like her—so determined and brave.

And I should be,
I thought. I’d been so self-assured when I was a
bacha posh
. Walking around with the boys, I feared nothing. If they had dared me to wrestle a grown man to the ground, I would have done it. I thought I could do anything.

And now I trembled before my husband, before my mother-in-law. I had changed. I had lost my confidence. The dress I wore felt like a costume, something that disguised the confident, headstrong boy I was supposed to be. I felt ridiculous, like someone pretending to be something he was not. I despised what I was.

Khala Shaima had read my mind.

“She’s taking risks and she just might be a total lunatic, but she’s doing what she wants. And I bet she doesn’t regret it. I bet she’ll keep doing it. That’s what people have to do sometimes to get what they want. Or to be what they want.”

Khala Shaima was like no one else. Everyone else thought Zamarud was a fool to say the things she did and an even bigger idiot for willingly offending men.

Carefully, quietly, I told Khala Shaima about Abdul Khaliq wanting to take another wife and what Badriya and Bibi Gulalai had said about me.

She said nothing but I could tell the news unsettled her. She looked anxious.

“Did they say how soon?”

I shook my head.

“Dear God, Rahima. This is not good.”

Her words made me more nervous.

“We have to figure something out. But keep this to yourself for now. Remember, the walls have mice and the mice have ears.”

I nodded, blinking back tears. I had hoped Khala Shaima would say something else. That the rumor was absurd. That I was safe here as Abdul Khaliq’s wife.

“Things don’t always work out the way you think they will. I bet you’ve been wondering what became of Bibi Shekiba. Shall I pick up where I left off?”

I half listened to my great-great-grandmother’s story. My mind was preoccupied.

I did have to figure something out. And I should be able to, shouldn’t I? Why did it matter if I wore a dress now? Why did it matter that I no longer bound my breasts flat? I wanted to be the same person I had been. Zamarud let nothing get in her way. She wore a dress and she had married and she campaigned to get a seat in the
jirga
. A seat she occupied as a real parliamentarian.

The dress didn’t hold her back as it did me. I felt restless. I thought how much more comfortable I would be if I could just button my shirt and walk into the street. If I could just slip into my old clothes… how much more capable I would be. Zamarud might have disagreed but the clothes meant something different to me because I’d lived in them.

The dress, the husband, the mother-in-law. I wished I could toss them all aside.

CHAPTER 46

W
hen Shekib had been a girl, she’d heard about a woman in a nearby village condemned to stoning. It was the talk of their town as well as the neighboring towns.

The woman had been buried shoulder-deep in the earth and encircled by a crowd of onlookers. When it was time, her father had thrown the first stone, striking her squarely in her temple. The line continued until she slumped over in atonement.

Shekiba had listened to the story being recounted by her uncle’s wife. Her mouth gaped at the horror of such a punishment and the grains of rice she was sifting fell through her drifting fingers and missed the bowl. An anthill of rice collected on the floor.

“What had she done?”

Her uncles’ wives turned around and paused their conversation, surprised. They often forgot she was there.

Bobo Shahgul’s eyes narrowed seeing the wasted rice on the floor.

“She ruined her father’s life and gave her entire family nothing but grief!” she said brusquely. “Watch what you’re doing, you absentminded fool!”

Shekiba looked down to see the mess she had made. Her mouth closed sharply and she turned her attention back to the rice. Bobo Shahgul tapped her walking stick in warning.

Sangsaar?
A chill coursed through Shekib’s veins as she looked at Benafsha and pictured her half-buried. Stones hurled at her head.

She asked no more questions of Benafsha. The room was silent but for the grumbling of two empty stomachs.

Two days passed without food or water. The door did not open once, though Shekib could see people walking behind it, stopping and listening before walking off. From the slit beneath the door, Shekib could make out the soles of army boots and knew soldiers were guarding them.

On the third day, the door opened. An army officer looked down at the two women, curled up on the floor. Shekib pulled herself to stand. Benafsha barely stirred.

“Guard. Khanum Benafsha.”

Shekib dusted her pants off and straightened her back.

“Your offenses against our dear king are grave and reprehensible. You are both to be stoned tomorrow afternoon.”

Shekib gasped. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “But, sir, I—”

“I did not ask you to speak. You have shamed yourself enough, have you not?”

He turned around abruptly and slammed the door shut behind him. Shekib heard him order a soldier to lock the door. A chain clanged and a key turned, leaving the two women with their fate.

Benafsha let out a soft moan once the door closed. She had known.

“They’re going to stone us both!” Shekib whispered, her voice tight and unbelieving. “Even me? I did nothing!”

Benafsha had her elbow tucked under her head. Her eyes gazed at the wall in front of her. She had known exactly what they would do to her. Why had she brought this upon herself?

“This is your fault! They’re going to stone me because of you!” She knelt at Benafsha’s side and grabbed her shoulders roughly. “Because of you!”

Benafsha rattled limply in her hands. “With Allah as my witness, I am sorry that you are here,” she said softly, her voice tearful and resigned.

Shekib pulled back and stared at Benafsha. “Why? You knew what they would do to you. Why did you do this? How could you do such a thing in the king’s own palace?”

“You would not understand,” she said for the second time.

“No, I do not understand how you could do something so stupid!”

“It is impossible to understand if you do not know love,” Benafsha whispered. Her eyes closed and she started to recite lyrics I’d never heard before. Phrases that I memorized because they echoed in my mind after she’d stopped talking and meant different things to me at different moments.

There is some kiss we want with our whole lives,

The touch of Spirit on the body.

Seawater begs the pearl to break its shell.

And the lily, how passionately it needs some wild

Darling!

At night, I open the window and ask the moon to come

And press its face against mine. Breathe into me.

Her melancholy verses pulled at my heart. I knew nothing of that kind of love. I knew nothing about pearls and shells either except that one had to free itself from the other. We were both calmer than we should have been, Benafsha because she had lived her love, and me because I had never known it.

The hours crept by.

Day turned into night and night became morning. One final morning.

Maybe this is how it is meant to be. Maybe this is how I will finally be returned to my family and saved from this wretched existence. Maybe there is nothing for me in this world.

Shekib swung wildly between anger, panic and submission in those hours. Benafsha whispered words of apology from time to time but mostly prayed. She held her head between her hands and atoned for her sins, said there was no God but Allah.

Allahu akbar,
she whispered rhythmically.
Allahu akbar.