Raghiyeh was sitting by the clay oven in the yard of Mergan’s house, knitting a small shirt, something for Hajer’s child. Abbas was sitting next to her on his knees, with his crutch close by. He was counting his coins out separately and was putting the coins he had counted back into the purse that hung from his neck. Mergan untied the remainder of the bread that she had kept tied into her chador, set it by the oven, and went inside. She didn’t usually spend very much time with Abbas and Raghiyeh. She knew that they did not enjoy her company. Ali Genav didn’t much concern himself with their relationship either. This was because it was well accepted in the village that Abbas was burnt out, such that he was not considered a man. This was due to both his inner and outer self. He’d not grown a beard; his voice was still high and thin. His mannerisms were androgynous and he was uninterested in women; he never spoke of them. He didn’t have a fancy for anyone at all. He never joked about such things. It wasn’t as if he had even an interest in female donkeys! And overall, there was no sign of the usual desire and impudence of a young man within him. All this indicated to the people of the village that Abbas was burnt out. And Mergan knew this more completely than anyone.
Raghiyeh’s fate was not much better than Abbas’. She was a bundle of sad bones, with a voice that rose only with great difficulty, with a curse close at hand. She was a creature who seemed to emit only curses and complaints. Raghiyeh the nag! That was the name that some had mockingly given her. So there was nothing to worry about: let the two sterile freaks keep each other company.
“So add it up again. Two two-qeran coins make four qerans. So we have four here!”
Raghiyeh held up four fingers separated widely.
“That’s four qerans.”
“Here are three five-qeran coins; so that’s fifteen!”
Raghiyeh repeated, “Fifteen qerans.”
“Add those together, and we have … nineteen qerans!”
Raghiyeh added, “So we’re twenty-one qerans short.”
And here we have twenty-five ten-shahis, which makes … Let me put them in pairs together. Here! One, two, three … It’s twelve qerans and ten shahis. So, add this twelve qeran and ten shahis to the other nineteen qerans, we have … Let’s see! Ten over the nineteen becomes twenty-nine qerans.”
Raghiyeh said, “Thirty, minus one qeran.”
“And over here I still have the two and a half qerans. I’ll put one with the twenty-nine; that’ll make thirty. So what’s that in total?”
“Thirty qerans, plus an extra one qeran and a half.”
“Okay, so here! These thirty shahis are for you.”
Raghiyeh took the three ten-shahi coins from the ground.
“So how much do you have there?”
“Thirty qerans all together!”
“Good. Thirty.”
Abbas said, “Now hand over the bread so we can eat it. I nearly killed myself to collect this much money. And in the old days I’d see a thousand qerans blow away in the wind!”
Raghiyeh brought the piece of bread that Mergan had left on the oven for them and set it before Abbas.
“Do you want me to take these thirty shahis and buy yogurt or molasses for us to put on the bread?”
Abbas filled his mouth with a bit of bread.
“No, no. That’s for you to keep. Go buy tobacco for yourself. God’s already prepared the bread for us. We’ll eat it as it is. So eat! We need to be frugal to be able to get what we want. Everyone’s leaving!”
“You mean Mergan?”
“Mergan and her son! They’re not infirm or tied to anything. I’ll take over the house. And I know what to do with it. A shop! I’ll sell so much during the winters that I’ll be able to earn a living for us for the whole year.”
“What kind of shop, exactly?”
“I’ll begin by having gambling circles here. Then, maybe I’ll have the stables fixed up and cleaned and put a grocery shop in it. If you’re here, we’ll run it together. If Mirza Hassan’s tractor is working, we can load it with a few large sacks of flour that I can sell here to the locals in small quantities. Or perhaps we can rent Ali Genav’s donkey. But we need to be able to make a living for ourselves. It’s a shame neither of us has any use for our limbs! Otherwise we could start a bakery as well. But for now we’ll just have to bring small wares and junk from town and just line them along the wall.”
Raghiyeh said, “Let’s see what’ll happen! If this bastard has a bit of mercy and agrees to a divorce, then I’ll be free.”
“You need to come to an agreement with him so that you will give up your claim to the dowry you’re due. But if only he doesn’t come around here in a few weeks trying to claim that his wife, Hajer, has a stake in these four walls as well! You understand? You have to pin him down. Ali Genav’s a cunning man!”
Raghiyeh said, “I know him well enough. But I doubt he’ll object to the divorce. He’s actually waiting for me to suggest it. But one thing!”
“What thing?”
“I want to have an opium cafe. You know how much income that brings in? Look at Sanam! She’s free and doesn’t need anyone!”
Abbas tied the string to his change purse and carefully placed it beneath his shirt, then said, “It’s not a bad idea. I’d not thought of it before!”
Raghiyeh put a piece of bread in her mouth, rose, and said, “I should go then! It’s dusk. Maybe I can go and lend a hand to your sister. She’s in the last month. Why do my bones hurt so much?”
Abbas also rose and slid over to the edge of the oven, lighting a cigarette. The sun was fading behind the rooftop.
Mergan came out with two cups of tea and brought them over to the oven.
“I’d just poured her a cup of tea!”
Abbas exhaled the smoke from his nostrils, saying, “She left!”
Mergan placed the teacup before Abbas and remained standing there.
Mother and son both had sealed lips. Abbas smoked his cigarette, and Mergan trained her eyes on the edge of the roof. They both knew they had to speak to each other, and they knew the subject as well. But neither was able to initiate the discussion.
Abbas tossed the end of his cigarette into the oven and took a cup of tea, sipping it softly. Mergan sat down by the oven and put her back to its outer wall. Now they didn’t have to look at one another. Abbas was on one side, and Mergan faced the other. Mergan, in the shadows of the dusk, put one hand under her chin and sat there. Abbas was sitting upright, with his long drawn face and wavy white head of hair, staring into nothingness.
“So what are you planning to do, Abbas?”
“What do you mean, what am I planning to do?”
“Are you staying or coming with us?”
“I’m staying.”
Mergan couldn’t bear it any longer. She rose and stood face-to-face with her son.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to you! If I told you to come with us, I don’t know what would happen. But if I say stay, I still don’t know what would happen to you! I feel cold, hot, wet, and dry. My heart’s uneasy. On one hand, I see that your brother, who is now our breadwinner, isn’t happy and can’t work here any longer. He’s become used to a kind of work that he can’t do here. On the other hand, in whose hands am I to leave you here if I go? At the same time, I’m hearing news about your father. Oh God! This son, that daughter, that son, my husband, myself. Oh God! Why are we all splitting apart? I don’t understand it at all! I feel like I can see what has happened, but I can’t understand it at all!”