“That’s Shahnaz. You’ll meet her in the morning when she shows you around.”
My room had a cushion in the corner, a pillow and a small table.
“We’ll send you a plate of food for tonight. Tomorrow you become part of your new home,” Bibi Gulalai said smugly.
I doubted it.
I had nearly screamed yesterday when Abdul Khaliq entered the room. I was crouched in the corner. He wiped the grease from his mouth with the back of his hand. He had just finished eating. My plate was untouched.
“You haven’t eaten? My wife is not hungry, eh?” He chuckled.
I said nothing.
He squatted next to me and lifted my chin with two fingers. His touch was rough. I kept my gaze averted. He pulled my chador off my head and felt the back of my head.
“Tomorrow,” he promised, and walked back out of the room. I shook with fright.
Night came and went and I didn’t sleep. I tossed and turned on the mattress, listening for the sound of footsteps, a hand on the doorknob, a knock. I thought of my mother, my sisters. I wondered if Shahla and Parwin were close by. I prayed we were all in the same compound and I would see them in the morning, every morning. I wondered what Rohila was telling Sitara, who every day had been asking more questions that we couldn’t answer. I wished I could be laid out at Khala Shaima’s feet, listening to her tell another chapter of Bibi Shekiba’s story.
I wished more than anything that I could be back in class, Moallim-sahib’s back turned toward us, Abdullah and I shooting each other bored looks, kicking each other under the table and tilting our notebooks so the other could see the right answer.
I wished I could be anywhere but here.
When my bladder could wait no longer, I opened the door a crack. I looked into the hallway, saw that it was empty and crept out slowly to go to the washroom. Shahnaz caught me on the way out.
“Good morning,” she said plainly. She looked a few years older than Shahla, with features that matched the dullness in her voice. She was thin and stood a couple inches taller than me. She balanced a baby on her hip, no more than six months old.
“Salaam,” I replied cautiously. I knew who she was and I remembered my mother’s warnings.
“Your name is Rahima?”
I nodded.
“All right, Rahima. Bibi Gulalai has asked me to show you around. So, let’s get started. You’ve hid in your room long enough.”
Shahnaz looked disinterested in me but she’d been given a task, and as Madar-jan had advised, she was doing what her mother-in-law—our mother-in-law — had asked of her.
“This has been my home for three years. I was told I wouldn’t be sharing it with anyone else. This room is for my children and me. Here is the kitchen. That is our living room. That hallway leads to the rest of the houses, the better houses. I expect that you’ll do your share of the cooking and cleaning. As you can see, I’ve already got my hands full.”
She paused and looked at me carefully.
“Your hair. Why is it cut so short?”
“I’m a bacha posh. I mean, I was a bacha posh.”
“I’ve never seen a bacha posh before. Why were you made into a boy?”
“My mother had only daughters and my father wanted a son.”
“So they dressed you as a boy? And did you go out of the house like that?”
I could hear more curiosity than dislike in her voice. It gave me confidence to continue the conversation. Something about her reminded me of Shahla and I could already tell I would be desperate for an ally here.
“Sure. I went to school. I ran errands for my mother. I even worked and brought money home. I was learning how to fix electronics,” I boasted. That was more than I had done for Agha Barakzai but Shahnaz wouldn’t know the difference.
“Well, don’t expect to be treated like the special son here.”
As soon as she said it, I realized that’s what I had secretly been hoping.
“Who else lives here in the compound?” I asked, hoping my face didn’t show my disappointment. The baby started to whine, her small hands batting at her mother’s face.
Shahnaz led me into the living room, where she began to nurse the baby.
“Our home is one of three. Each wife has her own home. Or at least we did, until you came along. His first wife is Badriya. She has the biggest home, with the bedroom on the second level. His second is Jameela. She lives in the biggest part of the house too but on the lower level. Abdul Khaliq’s room is in that main house. I thought you would have seen it last night but I’m sure you’ll see it soon enough.”
I ignored her last comment, scared to think of what that meant. The memory of his touch made me shiver.
“Where does… where does Bibi Gulalai live?”
“In the compound next door but she’s here often, keeping an eye on her eldest son’s affairs. Especially since he’s gone so often. Be careful with her. She rules with a heavy hand.”
“And what about the rest?”
“What rest?”
“I mean his cousins, Abdul Sharif and Abdul Haidar?” I was nervous to ask. I prayed she would tell me they were next door as well.
“Oh, I heard what happened. So, it’s true then? Sometimes Safiya gets the story all wrong. She told me two other sisters were married at the same time. And one of them has a limp, right? Hard to imagine how they arranged that deal. Well, Abdul Sharif lives on the other side of the hill, about four kilometers away. Abdul Haidar lives on the other side of that wall. He’s here often since he’s Abdul Khaliq’s right-hand man.”
Parwin was close by! She was on the other side of the wall. I wondered what she was doing and if she knew that I was meters away from her. Shahla. Shahla had been taken the farthest.
“Does Abdul Sharif come here sometimes?”
“He does, but not as often as his brother. If you think you’ll see your sisters, though, don’t get your hopes up. Neither one of them brings their wives when they come by. The women of this family don’t travel much. Get used to these walls. They’re going to be all you see.”
Shahnaz tired of me and went to put the baby to sleep. She had two children, a two-year-old son and the five-month-old girl I’d seen her holding.
I found out weeks later that Abdul Khaliq had taken her from a village in the south. He and his men had gone there and successfully pushed back the Taliban forces. The village had been saved so Abdul Khaliq and his men felt they earned the right to take what they wanted. They looted houses, harassed women. The village had no one to defend it. Most of the men had perished in the war. The men took whatever caught their eye. In Abdul Khaliq’s case, it was Shahnaz. She hadn’t seen her family since the day of her nikkah.
It could have been worse, she said. At least he took her as his wife. She had heard of many women who had been raped and left with their families. There was nothing worse than that.
I thought about Shahnaz’s village often, knowing my father must have been party to that mission. I wondered if he pillaged as the others had. I wanted to believe he hadn’t.
I could start with cleaning, Shahnaz said. She needed to bathe her son. I found the broom and began to sweep the floors as I’d seen my sisters do. The broom felt awkward in my hands and I waited for someone to relieve me from the duty. When Shahnaz didn’t come back out, I put the broom away and went back to my room to pout. I missed my old life.
Before long, it was evening again. Bibi Gulalai came to eat with us, around the cloth laid out on the living room floor. Shahnaz had prepared a meal of stew and rice. I reminded myself to fold my legs under me and sit like a lady. I could feel my mother-in-law watching me. I helped Shahnaz clear the dishes and wash up before I went back to my room. Bibi Gulalai sat in the living room with her cup of tea, watching her grandson play with a wooden spoon.