Mahmoud Dowlatabadi - Missing Soluch

The pieces fell into the circle. One had the wolf sign, and three others fell blank side up. Morad again arranged the pieces and said, “Ante in!”

“I’ve anted in!”

“Here, two signs showing. Now pay in.”

Hamdullah tossed two two- qeran coins at Morad’s feet.

“Ghodrat, your turn!”

Ghodrat lowered his fist into the circle, saying, “I’ve anted in!”

Morad tossed the pieces in the air and slapped his hand against his thigh. Ghodrat’s fist was below the pieces as they fell.

“Foul, do it again!”

Morad grumbled and rearranged the pieces.

“Right from the beginning, you’re messing things up! You’re a cheat like your cheating father. Okay, call it! You can’t shake me with your moves. Ante double!”

“I’ve anted in. My hand’s in!”

“Ante double!”

“I’ve anted. Just toss the pieces!”

“Nice one! Three horses!”

The pieces were on the ground. A full wolf hand!

“Pay in double!”

Ghodrat tossed in two five-qeran coins.

Morad said, “Let’s see the other hand.”

Ghodrat opened his left fist; there was one five-qeran coin stuck to his left thumb.

“Accepted?”

“Accepted.”

Ghodrat said, “Don’t go saying anything bad about me!”

Abbas held his fist into the circle, and Morad smiled as he said, “Well, well … watch as I give you a set of four pieces with signs!”

Abbas pursed his lips and squeezed them together, not saying anything. His face was pale, and as was usual, the corners of his lips were trembling. When Abbas joined a game, he would change entirely. A kind of terror would take hold of him. His heart would pound and his eyes would bulge. If he won, he would scream with joy, and if he lost he would still scream. He was clumsy and awkward. It seemed as if he were trying to eat the anted coins with his eyes. For Abbas, nothing seemed as exciting as when the money in play would be collected in his pocket. But since that never happened, he was always unsatisfied. Morad, who knew Abbas’ nature well, tossed the pieces up once, called a foul, and set them out again just to wind him up.

“Okay, ante in!”

Abbas, whose fist had remained clenched at the edge of the circle, said in a trembling voice, “I’ve anted!”

Two pieces with signs came up, one of them a wolf.

Morad said, “You have to put in three times as much as your ante!”

Abbas opened his fist. It was empty! Morad clenched his teeth and sharpened his eyes.

“Are you trying to pull the rug out from under my victory? Fine. I’ll still win if we do it hundred more times. Ante up! I’m not worried!”

Abbas rose and said, “I’ll ante a ten shahi .”

As Morad rearranged the pieces, Abbas looked at Jalil and said, “Take my place a second while I go splash some water on my face. Come on! I’m the one who arranged for a place for you guys to play. I didn’t want to play in the first place!”

Morad said, “Come on. You ante for yourself, Jalil. Don’t be such a baby about the game.”

Jalil came over heavily and sat in Abbas place, saying, “Let me examine the pieces!”

Morad pushed the pieces over for him to test out. He separated the wolf piece.

“There’s lead in this piece; replace it!”

Rising to leave the stable, Abbas took the piece in question and put another one before Jalil, saying, “Even a bride isn’t so finicky before going out to her wedding! Is there anything else you would like from us?”

Jalil picked up the new piece and said, “I thought Ali Genav was going to bring his deck of cards over. So where are they?”

Abbas was just about out the door as he said, “I was just about to go and see where the hell he’s hiding his dark head!”

Abbas didn’t wait to hear anything more. He closed the door behind himself and entered the yard. He stuck his head into the room, but Mergan wasn’t there. Hajer was alone, asleep and snoring. He turned and entered the alley, finding himself face-to-face with Hajj Salem and Moslem. He was surprised for a moment, but gathered his bearings, saying hello and moving on. It wasn’t far to Ali Genav’s house; it was at the end of the dead-end. One of the doors was always open. Abbas entered; the house was always open to visitors. Ali Genav was sitting by the clay oven, in the sun, mending his camel-hair shawl. He seemed oblivious to the fact that both his mother and wife were in bed, crying in pain. Perhaps he thought to himself that he couldn’t do much for them other than what he had done already — to send Abrau to find the bonesetter. What else could he do? Beat himself? Cry out loud? No, Ali Genav was more thick-skinned than that. He was also cool-headed when playing cards. Although he was one of the most experienced card players in Zaminej, he had not once had a scuffle with another player. He was always cool and calm. And he rarely lost. When he did lose, all that he did was furrow his brow in anger, but he would stay as calm as he was before.

Abbas’ shadow fell on Ali Genav’s hands, and while he continued his sewing he looked up.

“Eh? Can I help you? You must be here for the cards, no?”

Abbas said, “No! How are they?”

“Fine!”

So as to follow up with what he had said, Abbas walked to the door and peeked inside the house. The two women, Raghiyeh and Mother Genav, were on two sides of the room, and Mergan was sitting between them. Abbas returned. Ali Genav was still busy with his sewing.

“So? What do you want? Get to the point!”

Abbas said, “I think Hamdullah and Jalil have full pockets today! But they really want to play cards.”

Ali Genav replied, “That one boy’s in love with cards. But I won’t lend them to anyone.”

Abbas said, “What I mean is that you should come yourself. It looks like a good group to play with.”

Ali Genav said, “If I come, I’ll bring my cards with me!”

Abbas walked back toward the door to the alley. Before reaching it, he slowed down and turned around. He wanted to say something, but couldn’t bring himself to. Abbas knew Ali Genav’s temperament. It would be counterproductive to push him any more than he already had. So he turned again and left. But as soon as he reached the stable, his eyes opened wide with amazement. He couldn’t believe that Hajj Salem and Moslem were inside the stable. Where did they come from? He hoped that Hajj Salem hadn’t come to teach a lesson to his nephew, Hamdullah! If he caused a commotion, what would Abbas do? He couldn’t think of a way around it. He said hello, and slid down beside one of the walls. Hajj Salem and Moslem were both sitting quietly. The former was sitting on the edge of the trough, with his cane leaning against the center of his chest. His son was sitting beside Hamdullah in the circle and was watching the game over the shoulders of Hamdullah and Morad. The game had heated up. Hamdullah was dealing; he would cast the pieces and then tell his Uncle Moslem to move his head to the side.

“I told you to move your muzzle to the side, you!”

Moslem followed Hamdullah’s every movement with his entire body, and at that moment had reached his head and neck over the gambling circle.

“Three donkeys!”

The pieces moved on from his hands; in the last hand, he lost fifteen qerans from his total winnings. Hamdullah shoved Moslem’s chest with his forearm, bellowing, “I told you a hundred times, sit back, you cow! You shook my hand so much I ended up with three donkeys!”

Moslem pulled himself back and collected himself before saying, “Be generous! A little gift! A gift!”

Hamdullah was collecting the coins from before his feet, and replied, “Go on. Forget it! God’ll give you gifts some other place! You idiot, you really think you’re going to get something here?”