I listened for the sound of her leaving but she didn’t. My door opened.
“Your husband has asked for you. You should go and see to him as his bride. Shahnaz will take you there.”
When I didn’t get up, she came after me, pulling me to stand by my ear.
“Did you not hear what I said? Do you want me to repeat myself?”
My twisted ear stung under her gnarled fingers. I yelped and stumbled to my feet. Shahnaz was in the hallway. She looked mildly entertained.
We went down the hallway and into the main house. Had I been less nervous, I probably would have noticed more of my surroundings. I remember thinking that the hallways were wide, the ceilings tall. We passed by many doors. I’d never imagined a house so large!
Shahnaz pointed to a door and told me to go ahead and knock. Before I could ask a question she turned and headed back down the stairs. I ran after her and grabbed her arm.
“Shahnaz, please, let me go back with you!”
She shook her arm free and looked at me with annoyance.
“Let go of me!” she hissed. “Your husband has asked for his new bride. You’d be making a big mistake to keep him waiting. That’s my best advice to you.”
“Please, Shahnaz-jan! I’m scared!” I panicked. I didn’t want to be alone here. I wanted to go back to my dark room and my small mattress. I felt out of place and I hated wearing a dress. It felt unnatural, awkward. I was a bacha posh! Just like Bibi Shekiba, the palace guard!
“Are you stupid? Get in there or you’ll regret it. You’ll be punished worse than you could imagine.”
She walked away and left me in the hallway, scrambling for options that didn’t exist.
He must have heard me. I gasped and jumped backward when the door opened. My reaction made him smile. He beckoned me in. I hesitated, but fearing that Shahnaz was right, I followed.
In subsequent visits, I would realize that Abdul Khaliq’s bedroom looked like what I might have imagined of a palace. His mattress sat on a wooden platform a few feet off the ground. A plush armchair sat in the corner and a beautifully woven burgundy carpet covered the floor. Two windows overlooked the courtyard, where three armed men were on guard.
I walked in, too terrified to see anything but Abdul Khaliq. He had already made himself comfortable on his bed. He was sitting up, propped up against pillows.
“Take your chador off,” he ordered.
I looked at the ground and stood motionless. I had wanted to rip the chador off my head when Madar-jan put it on me but now, with Abdul Khaliq eyeing me in this way, I couldn’t let it go. I watched him from the corner of my eye and saw his intrigued but exasperated face.
“Listen,” he said, leaning forward. With his turban off, I could see that his hair matched his salt-and-pepper beard. He wore a beige cotton tunic and pants. His legs were outstretched. The room was lit by a lamp on his bedside table. “Maybe you haven’t received any instruction on what it is to be a wife. From what I’ve seen of the women in your family, I wouldn’t be surprised. Let me explain to you how things are here. I am your husband and this is your home. When I ask for something, you make it happen. In return, you will be given shelter and have the privilege of being wife to Abdul Khaliq.”
Again he beckoned me closer. I fought the wave of nausea and took two steps toward him. I was within his reach. My muscles stiffened.
He turned my face toward him. He was so close I could see the lines on his face. I could make out each hair of his eyebrow. I tried to keep my eyes lowered.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I nodded. My mind flashed back to his bodyguards and their guns. I was terrified.
“Good. Now, do as I say and take off your chador.”
He could have done it. I thought about it later and realized he could have done all the things he made me do, but that wouldn’t have served his purpose. One by one, he made me take off everything I’d been wearing. First the chador, then my socks, my pants, my dress. With every piece, I trembled more. When my pants came down, I began to cry, which didn’t faze him in the least. I was humiliated. I stood before him, weak and vulnerable, my arms doing their best to cover as much as they could.
He nodded in approval, his lips wet with excitement.
“You’re not a bacha posh any longer. Tonight I’ll show you that you’re a woman, not a boy.”
CHAPTER 24. RAHIMA
The thought of him made me queasy. I hated the feeling of it. I hated his breath, his whiskers, his callused feet. But there would be no escape. He called for me when he pleased and made me do what he wanted. Thankfully, it rarely lasted more than a few minutes. I wished Madar-jan had told me exactly what to expect, but then I think if she had, I never would have made it to the nikkah.
Shahnaz seemed to pity me the following day. She must have known. My face reddened when my eyes met hers.
My insides hurt. Raw and angry. I nearly cried when I urinated into the fancy western toilet.
Shahnaz asked me to prepare lunch for the family. She had the children to tend to. I went into the kitchen and looked through the vegetables on the counter, almost thankful to have a task that would keep my mind off what I had endured. There were canisters of flour and sugar as well. I thought of my mother and sighed. Ever since I’d been converted into a bacha posh, I’d been relieved of all cooking duties as well. If my father had seen his “son” working in the kitchen, his temper would have turned our home upside down. I had no idea how to make even a simple meal.
I tried to think of the foods my mother and Shahla cooked. Even Parwin could prepare a decent meal, although she spent more time sculpting shapes out of the potatoes than she did actually cooking them.
I set out to make some potato stew. I put the rice in water, as I’d seen my mother do. I tried to focus but my eyes kept drifting to the kitchen window, with a view into the courtyard. Several boys, two of them looking to be almost my age, were kicking a ball around. They shouted and teased each other. I felt my heart beat faster, wanting to be with them instead of bent over a metal pot with potato peels stuck to my fingers.
I wondered who the boys were. I could see they wouldn’t have been much of a challenge on the field. They kicked clumsily, barely making contact with the ball.
“Rahima! Why are you sitting like that? For God’s sake, aren’t you embarrassed?”
Shahnaz’s voice jolted me. I looked down and snapped my legs together, bending my knees. I’d been sitting like a boy basking in the summer sun. A bolt of pain shot between my thighs.
“Oh, sorry, I was just—”
“Have a little decency!”
I hung my head, my face flushed again. I cursed myself. Thank goodness my mother hadn’t witnessed this. She had warned me over and over again to carry myself as a proper girl in my new home but I’d been living as a boy for years. There was a lot of unlearning to do.
Our mother-in-law joined us for lunch. She hobbled in, her fingers on the shoulder of a young boy, probably a grandson. I kissed her hands and mumbled a greeting, following Shahnaz’s lead. Her visit was a surprise to me, but not to Shahnaz. I looked to her for guidance. She didn’t offer much.
“She did the same thing to me,” Shahnaz whispered. “She wants to see if you’re being a good wife. Go ahead and lay out the food, the plates. Sit with her.” She went into the living room and spoke sweetly to Bibi Gulalai. “Khala-jan, with your permission, I’m going to feed the baby. I’m sorry I can’t sit with you but your new bride has prepared lunch for you.”