Nadia Hashimi - When the Moon Is Low

Saleem grinned even as he bit into the meat. The first morsel melted under his teeth and tasted better than anything he could remember.

“You like it?”

“Mmm, it tastes like. . it tastes like home.” Saleem licked his lips and closed his eyes. “Thank you!”

Roksana laughed.

“You are welcome. Thought you would enjoy that,” she said. “I wanted to talk to you and see if you have any ideas. To get to your family, you know?”

Saleem sighed.

“I don’t know.” Parts of him still felt battered and bruised from his trip over from Izmir.

“I asked the people I know, but no one knows anything about getting documents made. I think it’s because they’re afraid to tell me. I’m so sorry, Saleem. I wish I could help more.”

Saleem was disappointed, but it was a feeling he was getting used to.

“I know you try. It’s okay. I must find another way.”

The farm work, the street life, the hunger, and the beatings had taken their toll. His body was not maturing so much as it was aging under the stress. He was certain that was what Roksana saw when she looked at him.

“ Ela, I had an idea. I was thinking about your aunt and uncle. When you get to England, where are you going to go? It is a big country and you’ll be lost without an address. If you give me their names, maybe I can help you to find them? I can search on the Internet. I cannot promise anything, but it would be good to check at least.”

“You will try?” Saleem used the wax paper to wipe the grease from his lips. “My aunt is in London. They live in apartment.”

Roksana took a pen and scrap of paper out of her shoulder bag.

“Write down their names for me. Your aunt, her husband, your cousins. Write it all down, and I will see what I can find.”

“My aunt, her name is Najiba. She is my mother’s sister. Her husband is Hameed Waziri. He is my father’s cousin. These are the names I saw on the letters they sent to us in Afghanistan.”

“Good,” Roksana said, stuffing the scrap of paper back into her small bag. “And another thing, Saleem.”

Anything, he thought. Just sit here with me and keep talking .

Saleem was content to listen to her, to watch her lips move, to watch the way she pushed her bangs away, and the way her lashes fluttered.

“I know it is not easy to be in Attiki.” Attiki was a nice way of saying homeless. “And I thought. . I just wanted to say that if you want, you can come to my house this weekend for a proper bath. I thought it might make you feel better.”

Saleem’s face lit up. He turned to look at her directly. Under the glow of the streetlamp, Saleem could see Roksana’s face blush.

“My mother and father will be away from home for some time this weekend. If you want, you can come for an hour.”

He wondered if he should accept her offer. Her parents would not know of his visit. What if they came home unexpectedly? Was this worth the risk? He looked at Roksana again. That perfect curve of her lips, the quiet rebellion in her eyes. Yes, it was definitely worth it.

“That is very nice. Please, yes.”

Roksana nodded and pointed to a building down the street. She told him to make note of the green awning out front. He was to come by on Saturday afternoon. She wrote the apartment number down on another piece of paper and gave it to Saleem. She got up to leave.

“It is late.” She turned around again, as an afterthought. “Saleem, you won’t say anything to the others in Attiki, will you? We are not. . I mean the people from the organization. . we’re not supposed to have contact with. . our work is supposed to stay only in Attiki. You understand?”

Saleem nodded. He had no intention of sharing any of this with the guys in the park. The evil eye always lurked in shallow waters, and this was just the thing to draw it to the surface.

He watched her adjust the strap of her messenger bag and walk away. He could not turn his gaze from the synchronized sway of her hair and hips, a gentle femininity.

SATURDAY WAS THREE DAYS AWAY. SALEEM RESTED HIS HEAD that night, picturing himself walking into Roksana’s home. He closed his eyes and dreamed.

In his dream, he was in their bathroom. Warm water cascaded down his head and shoulders. His skin felt light. He caught a palmful of water in his cupped hands and brought it to his lips. Swathed in a towel, he stepped into a large, vacuous room, dark enough that he could not make out the walls. Roksana approached him in jeans that celebrated every adolescent curve. She smiled, touched his wet shoulders, and wiped beads of water from his chest. She pulled him closer.

Saleem woke up abruptly. He bolted upright. It was pitch-dark.

He remembered he was in the square, on the steps of an old building with Abdullah snoring a few feet away. He’d been dreaming. He felt the familiar but still uncomfortable feeling of being aroused and leaned his head back, waiting for it to disappear.

But then he sensed something else.

As his eyes adjusted, he could make out the bulky shape of a man crouched over his feet. Saleem recognized the silhouette. It was Saboor.

“What do you want?” Saleem blurted.

“You must have been having a good dream,” Saboor whispered. Saleem could hear the smirk in his voice.

Saleem positioned himself. His hand flew to his side to confirm his monies were untouched. He’d wrapped his bills in a rag and pinned the bundle to his underpants, the most secure place he could think to keep it. He felt the lump nudge against his groin.

“What do you want?” Saleem asked again.

Abdullah’s snoring went on uninterrupted.

Saboor smelled of stale sweat. Saleem could feel his meaty hand on his shin, then sliding up to his knee. His touch made Saleem jump. They were standing, staring eye to eye.

“Just wanted to make sure you are sleeping well, my dear boy.” He chuckled. “Now you can go back to your dreams and I will go back to mine.” Saleem watched his figure slip away quietly in the darkness, through a maze of bodies, as he made his way back to his own makeshift tent.

It was impossible to sleep after that. Saleem stared into the dark and listened for the sound of footsteps. He cursed Abdullah for sleeping through the whole thing. But how long had Saboor been there? Had he put his hands on Saleem as he slept?

The last thought made Saleem wild with fright. He had heard from the others about Saboor pilfering from others but nothing more than that. It was so freakish he almost believed he’d imagined the whole thing. But even under the cloak of night, it was real, fresh, and made his skin crawl.

AT DAWN, SALEEM’S EYELIDS GREW HEAVY. EVEN IN THE RELATIVE safety of daylight, it was hard to resist closing them.

Abdullah woke up and found Saleem blinking slowly.

“Eh, you are awake already? Good morning, my friend! Welcome to another day in Attiki. Wish I could offer you a proper breakfast, but if I could, then you would not get the true Attiki experience,” he quipped.

Saleem, grim faced, was suddenly alert — the slumber quickly vanished with the need to share his overnight encounter.

“Abdullah, something strange happened last night,” Saleem began, his voice tight and tense. He was not sure how his friend would react. Maybe the whole thing would sound made up.

“Not that strange, actually. Happens to all guys. Welcome to manhood, little boy.” Abdullah sat up and stretched his arms over his head.

“Listen to me for a minute, will you? I woke up in the middle of the night and Saboor was sitting right there, just over my feet.” Saleem pointed to the spot where he’d seen Saboor’s crouching figure.

“That bastard — he was trying to steal our things!” Abdullah turned around and checked for his plastic bag of belongings. He relaxed when he saw everything still in its rightful place.