Mahmoud Dowlatabadi - Missing Soluch

Abrau was stopped by Abbas’ rough, furious hands. He stood still. Spittle gathered at the edges of Abbas’ mouth as he stared at his brother, saying, “Where the hell did he go? Didn’t you notice?”

“No.”

“Did he beat you badly? What did he use?”

“His belt. His feet. His fists. He just beat me!”

“A lot?”

Abrau didn’t answer. Abbas lifted the bundle of corkwood off of his brother’s shoulders and set it alongside his own bundle. He sat and told his brother to also sit down. Abrau dragged himself over to the wall but didn’t sit down. He leaned standing against the wall and flexed his hands.

Abbas squatted on his feet. He scraped the earth with his broken root-cutter, swore a storm of insults directed at Salar Abdullah.

“That bully! Some day I’ll settle up with him right. Just because of a bit of land and his thirty, forty sheep he thinks he’s someone. His head’s so big he can’t even fit into his clothes. Even if I only have one day to live, I’ll make him pay. I’ll cut his ankle tendons!”

Abrau listened to what Abbas was saying, but didn’t believe a word of it. His tongue was always braver than his actions. He’d puff his chest and open his mouth. What a liar! They were only lies. He’d stand up and act angry, but he’d never deliver when it counted. He always looked out for himself first. Even now, Abrau couldn’t understand why he was telling him all of this. Was his motivation to win over his brother’s feelings? Did he want to make up for the fight with a few meaningless words? What was it?

Abbas spoke up again. “You … Wouldn’t you be embarrassed to take this tiny bundle into the village for people to see you?”

Abrau was silent. He had closed his eyes under the soft rays of the sun; his lips were firmly shut. Abbas continued with what he was saying. “Well, for me I’d be embarrassed. Even girls gather more than this to bring home. What would people say if they saw us with these pathetic bundles?”

Abrau said, “If we had a decent sickle, I’d go to another field and just fill up my bundle.”

Abbas said, “You narrow-minded little bastard! Look at how he’s willing to waste himself on work, you son of a bitch! So what are we supposed to do? I for one can’t bear the thought of walking through the village with this little bundle of wood.”

Abrau said, “Well, you have a decent sickle. Go find another field and fill your bundle.”

“Salar Abdullah’s still out in the fields. I’m afraid. I’m afraid I’ll have to beat him and finish him off! Also, my belly’s eating itself from hunger. My insides are all tied up!”

“Well, this morning you ate up all we had.”

“What was there to eat anyway? Take a look!”

Abbas thrust a hand into his pocket, brought out bread crumbs mixed with dirt and dust, and held it out before his brother.

“Here! Eat this. To your heart’s content.”

Abrau hesitated and then unwillingly reached out and took the bread bits, poured them onto his tongue, shut his large mouth, and set to chewing. It was half a mouthful. He swallowed.

Abbas said, “If we were to put our bundles together, we could sell the lot by this afternoon. I’ll sell it, get us some bread, and bring it home.”

Abrau considered his brother’s intentions. Abbas wanted to finish the day’s work by taking all the credit for himself. Not to mention bringing home the bread. So Abrau responded, “I’ll sell it myself.”

Abbas leapt at him like a dog. “What fool do you think would take this bundle of wood off your hands? Each bundle is supposed to be enough to heat a bread oven, no? Your little pile would hardly be enough for a stove! Would it?”

Abrau said, “And you? Your little bundle? Is your pile any more than mine?”

“No!”

“So why are you shouting at me?”

“I’m not shouting at you. Listen to me for a second and you’ll see that what I’m saying makes sense. I’m saying, let’s put these two bundles together and make them one full pile. Then we’ll take it over to the old fort’s gate and find someone who’ll buy it.”

Abrau said, “Agreed. We’ll put them together, but I’ll put the full bundle on my back and I’ll take it.”

“You? You’ll take it? Am I nothing here? I’m your older brother! You want me to let you take the bundle on your back? What will people say? You don’t think they’ll just spit in my way? They’ll say, look at this worthless fool who’s making his little brother do all the work. Don’t you see how stupid what you’re saying is?”

Abrau said, “I … I’ll take it on my back. What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s wrong for a thousand and one reasons! What will others think? They’ll think I’m getting you to do all the work. Your bones aren’t even firm yet, and you want me to put a big bundle of corkwood onto your back to carry? Am I nothing here? And if you’re injured? What then? Who will be responsible? Like Karbalai Doshanbeh, Salar’s own father, who’s been injured and now has to spend all day sitting in a corner somewhere. Your back’s not at full strength yet. I won’t let my own brother be hurt!”

Despite all this, Abrau said, “I’ll take the load.”

The veins on Abbas’ neck stood out as he screamed, “Stop being a fool, you idiot! I’m taking the load!”

Abrau, calmly and evenly answered, saying, “I’ll take the bundle up by the mosque, and you go home by the back alleys. I’ll sell it, and I’ll take the money to get bread to bring home.”

“You’ll sell it? You think you can buy and sell goods? I’ve traveled three times with Uncle Aman and have bought and sold goods myself, and now you think you should go and sell the wood? Who’ll come and buy this from a pip-squeak like you? You want to waste all the work we’ve done today? Don’t you care? I’ve scraped with my own hands and fingernails to unearth each one of these stalks of wood, and now you’re just going to go and give it all away for nothing?”

By now Abrau only had one card to play. “I’ll take and sell the wood. When you were traveling with Uncle Aman, you were only riding the donkey. You don’t think I know that? And if you were any good at that, he’d still be taking you with him. I’ll take the bundle and sell it. If you like it, fine; if not, we each can take our own. You have a sickle; if you don’t like it, go and fill up your own bundle.”

“Fine, I’ll give you the sickle!”

“Forever?”

“No! Just for today. Go and gather a decent bundle for yourself and bring it. What else do you want?”

Abrau replied, “Agreed. Give me the sickle. I have half a bundle. I’ll gather another equal pile and have a full bundle then.”

“So now you want to turn around and go to the fields carrying a bundle of corkwood? Won’t you be embarrassed? Who have you ever seen walking from the village to the fields carrying kindling wood? You want everyone to laugh at you?”

“So let them laugh. Are they giving me bread to eat that I should care if they laugh?”

Abbas ground his teeth and said, “Just stop this game playing, you fool. I’ll beat you senseless! The hungry man has no fear of God. I’ll just shut my eyes and choke you. Don’t think that just because you’re my brother, I’ll show you mercy. No! My belly’s aching from hunger. I could rip the meat from your bones just with my teeth! So come on, don’t fool around. I’m not going to go and eat all the bread this bundle will buy; you’ll have your share, too. I swear on the honor of our brotherhood. Why do you want to bother me so much? I’m at the end of my rope with you. Don’t you respect your faith and religion? Don’t you believe in God? I’m your own brother, your older brother! Aren’t you embarrassed …? You little nothing! Why do I have to talk myself hoarse to make you understand? Can’t you show a little mercy to me? You want me to lose my voice with all of this shouting? My body’s shaking all day and night from the evil you do to me. Why do you act like I’m your enemy? You want me to go mad and head out for the wastelands because of you?”