“And your little girl — she’s so sweet! What’s her name, Shahla?”
I put my hand in front of her hand. Her long, graceful fingers wrapped around mine and squeezed tight.
Shahla lowered her voice and looked to see if anyone was paying attention to us.
“I named her Parwin,” she said quietly.
A second look and I realized Shahla’s daughter had our sister’s doelike eyes and pink, puckered lips. My throat tightened. Shahla smiled wanly.
“Parwin?”
“Yes. My mother-in-law wanted to name her Rima, actually, but I asked if I could choose the name. She agreed to let me.”
I stared at my niece’s face. The longer I stared, the more of Parwin I saw. Then I thought of my own mother-in-law. She had only gone along with my son’s name because my husband had approved of it. He must have liked it very much or she would have changed it for sure.
“I can’t believe she agreed.”
“I know. It was difficult because she thought it would be bad luck, you know, to name a child after someone with a lame leg. Thank goodness I named her before… I mean if she had been born after, I couldn’t have convinced anyone. The name would’ve carried too much shadow.”
Shahla looked at her daughter’s face wistfully.
“Then after all that happened, everyone started calling her Rima. I could barely bring myself to say her name either so for a long time it was a relief to call her Rima. But now, when it’s just me and her, I call her Parwin. It makes me feel better. Funny, isn’t it? We hear the same name and while they see dark, I see light.”
I knew just what she meant.
Had the guests been anyone else, I would have returned to the kitchen long ago. But it was my sister and I wanted to spend every second I could with her. Jameela refilled the teacups, passed around a plate of cookies and made small talk. She kept an eye on Bibi Gulalai and when it looked like our mother-in-law was about to say something to me, Jameela would ask a question or say something to distract her. When our eyes met, I thanked Jameela silently. She smiled.
“Shahla, you look so well!” I exclaimed. And I meant it. My sister looked more mature but otherwise unchanged. And she looked content. I even saw her make eye contact with her sister-in-law once or twice and smile. Genuinely. Her mother-in-law was a soft-spoken woman, nothing like Bibi Gulalai and her searing glare. She must have been in her sixties, wisps of gray hair peeking out from under her head scarf. She listened to Jameela talk about our mother’s illness with a look of sincere concern.
“Really, Shahla, are things okay?” I whispered when the room was divided in conversation. “Are you happy?”
“I miss you so much, Rahima! I miss everyone. I wish so much that I could see Rohila and Sitara. I want to know how big they’ve gotten, what they’re doing. But I’m happy.”
I smiled. I believed her.
“What about you?” Jahangir pulled at Shoib’s sleeve, inviting him to play in the hallway. Shoib shrugged his shoulders and followed.
“Me?” I could feel Bibi Gulalai’s stare boring into the back of my head. I nodded. My sister knew me too well. Her face grew somber.
“Good, I’m glad to hear that,” she said in a way that told me the opposite was true.
“I go to Kabul now. Did you hear about that?”
“I heard something, but…”
I told her about Badriya’s seat in the jirga and how I worked as her assistant. I told her how different Kabul was, just like in the stories Khala Shaima told us. I was proud when I saw how impressed Shahla was.
If only I could have suspended time. I would have sat beside my sister, our children playing together in a picture of innocence, our hearts supporting each other as we mourned our dead sister, the mother we once had, and the sisters we’d left behind.
“You see Khala Shaima still, don’t you?”
I nodded. “She comes by when she can. It’s getting harder for her but I miss her so much when she doesn’t come.”
“Does she still tell you stories of Bibi Shekiba?” Shahla asked. She started to rock when she noticed her daughter’s eyes begin to close, just as I did with Jahangir. It was amazing how quickly girls took on the instincts of motherhood.
“She does. I love hearing those stories. It makes me think of… it makes me think of other times.”
Shahla sighed. She missed it as much as I did.
“I know, Rahima-jan. But times change. Everything changes. Birds fly away, one by one.”
CHAPTER 49. SHEKIB
Shekiba was told nothing more. A nikkah was to be performed in two days’ time. Word spread through the somber harem quickly and several women came together to prepare the new bride.
“Who is this man? How fortunate you are! You were spared by our dear king for marriage! That is quite an honor!”
Those voices were in the minority. Shekiba heard the whispers around her, angry and incredulous. Some said that she had probably conspired with Benafsha and that she should have been stoned alongside her.
You see how comfortable she is in Benafsha’s room? As if it’s been hers all along!
I bet she helped hide Benafsha’s lover. I’m sure of it. I heard her footsteps in the middle of the night from time to time and I knew — I just knew something had to be going on!
They must be giving her to a blind man. Who else could stand to look at such a face!
How quickly they turned on her! How quickly they forgot how she had carried their children, brought hot water for their baths and even scrubbed their backs when they asked. All the while she had been Shekiba-e-haleem to them; they winked to one another when she served the bowls of the hot dish to the women from the breakfast delivery.
Shekiba-e-haleem, serving up her special dish!
Maybe she should pour a bowl over the other side of her face — I swear it’s just the right color to match her complexion today! The cook must be a genius!
But there were a few, namely Halima and Benazir, who pitied Shekiba and knew that she needed help preparing for her nikkah.
“Who is this man?” Halima asked as she combed oil through Shekiba’s dull, short hair.
“I don’t know, Khanum Halima. No one has said anything to me.”
“Maybe it’s one of the servants from the main palace. Maybe they will have you work there now?” Benazir suggested. “Would you like that?”
“I suppose,” Shekiba said, her voice contained. That was not what she wanted at all, but she could not bring herself to share her secret with anyone. It was Amanullah that she hoped for — not a palace servant!
“Well, it is a bit strange that they have not told you anything.” Halima looked hopeful but reserved. Shekiba had misfortune written all over her and it was hard to imagine that even a marriage would bring her peace.
“You know, there are many things that come with marriage. You have seen this harem and you know what happens between a man and a woman. Your husband will expect you to fulfill wifely duties. You will not want to disappoint him,” Halima said gently.
Shekiba felt her stomach drop. She had not given much thought to what would happen between her and a husband. She thought of the squeals and grunts that came from the king’s chambers. She thought of what Mahbuba had told her and felt something between her legs tighten with anxiety.