Nadia Hashimi - The Pearl that Broke Its Shell

“I’ve tried to tell Rohila and Sitara the same. But Rohila is to be married soon and I think she’ll be better off. The family seems reasonable. Sitara will be alone with your parents, left to fend for herself. I can’t do much more for her. I wish I could tell you to watch out for her but you could do more for her if a mountain stood between you. These walls hold you tight. Focus on yourself. Everything you’ve endured in life should have taught you something, made you hungry for something. Remember, Allah has said, ‘Start moving, so I may start blessing.’ ”

I tried to find the words to reassure Khala Shaima, to tell her that I understood what she was telling me and that I was proud to know I was a descendant of Bibi Shekiba, the woman who had guarded the king’s harem, who had walked through the royal palace. I may have lived my entire life in a small village but I was connected to Afghanistan’s aristocracy.

But I’d never been able to find the right words. As I sat there, I had to admit I could see my aunt fading. She didn’t look like the person I remembered. She had spent her adult life trying to guide us, trying to look out for my sisters and me.

And she was right. As much as I might have wanted to do for my sisters, Abdul Khaliq’s walls were high and his leash short. I could only pray for them.

Badriya was lying on the bed. She’d spent the day griping about how long it was taking for Abdul Khaliq’s men to finish the home he’d bought in Kabul. She was tired of staying in a hotel and having the man in the lobby watch our comings and goings with interest. I wanted to go for a walk, tired of listening to her complaints.

I adjusted my head scarf and opened the door. Badriya looked up, shook her head and turned around to face the wall. I could tell she didn’t want me to leave since it would leave her without an audience but I was starting to feel the walls close in. I walked out of our room.

To my right was a staircase leading to the lobby. I could hear Maroof and Hassan on my left, about forty feet down the hall, talking. I could make out Maroof’s back, sitting on the chair. As much as I wanted to head directly down to the street level, I knew there would be hell to pay if I were to leave unchaperoned and unannounced.

I could make out their voices as I neared.

“You told him that?”

“I did. What the hell was I supposed to tell him?” Maroof asked.

“God help her. What did he say?”

“You’ve heard how he gets. He said a lot of things. I don’t know what he’s going to do to her but I had no choice. And it’s your fault anyway, Maroof. You’re the one who told him she was spending a lot of time with those two hags. You didn’t stop to think that he would get pissed we weren’t guarding her? Maybe you don’t think it’s your job since you’re the driver, but I’m their guard . Did you miss that?”

“What was I supposed to tell him? He called when she wasn’t around. He wanted to speak to Badriya too. If I hadn’t said she wasn’t here, she would have told him. He would have had my neck for sure if he thought I was keeping something from him.”

“Yeah, yeah. Well, I hope he got that she went without our knowing about it. I don’t want to get back to the house and find out it’s us he’s mad at.”

“Just stick to what we said. She snuck out without telling us and went to hang out with those godforsaken women. He’ll believe it. You know he doesn’t think much of her anyway. You’ve heard about his plans. He’s lost interest. She’s not as exciting to him as she was in the beginning. Remember that day he saw her in the market?”

Maroof let out a guffaw.

“He looked like he might pick her up right there. Send a note and a few afghanis to her parents!”

“Would’ve been a lot easier if he’d done it that way. What a pain her family was. Putting up a show like they come from royalty or something.”

“But I remember your face when he made us stop so he could watch her… you thought she was a real boy then, you idiot!”

“You did too!” Maroof said in self-defense. “She looked like a boy. How the hell should I have known there was something more interesting under those clothes?”

“You probably liked her better the other way!” Hassan chuckled. “What do you think of her new haircut, eh? Got your appetite going?”

I backed up slowly and as quietly as I could, my mind racing.

They had sold me out to my husband. I trembled at the way they talked about me.

My thoughts tumbled and turned until I finally realized what it was that I had just overheard.

I wasn’t safe.

I turned the doorknob, watching the hallway to see if the men had noticed my presence. They hadn’t. I closed the door behind me and went straight to the washroom. I couldn’t look at Badriya right now, knowing she would be of no help to me. It looked like she was asleep anyway.

My husband was a man of violence and I knew that I’d barely seen a tenth of what he was capable of. He was a man of war, of guns, of power. He demanded respect and obedience, and the guards had just told him that I was out of control. He must have been wild with rage.

I couldn’t help but remember he was looking to add a wife and that five was one more than he wanted. I knew what that meant for me.

I thought of the woman in the shelter. She’d disobeyed and her husband had sliced off her ear. I had no doubt Abdul Khaliq could be just as vicious. I leaned against the wall, my heart pounding in fear. I had to think fast.

We were due to return home in three days.

Shah’s feet pounded against the dirt of the road. Just because he was supposed to accompany his sister home from school didn’t mean he couldn’t race her to the front door. He panted, turned around and saw Shabnam walking hurriedly to catch up. She looked frustrated.

“Why are you always in such a rush? Don’t you know it’s not easy to run in a skirt? And anyway, Madar- jan would be upset if she saw me chasing after you through the streets!”

“It’s not my fault I’m faster than you. I could have been home a long time ago if I didn’t have to wait for you!”

It was the same argument every day. They bickered but adored each other, oblivious to the resentment between their mothers. Shabnam had long ago opted to ignore her mother’s hand pulling her back and would sit with Shekiba while she washed the clothes, asking her question after question about everything from horses to baking bread. And Shah, who knew no boundaries thanks to his father, loved to torment Gulnaz by pulling at her knitting and running away, his giggles undoing her anger at the work he had unraveled.

Aasif had hoped for more children but Gulnaz and Shekiba seemed to alternate; one would start her womanly illness when the other stopped. He wondered if a curse had been lifted from him for those two years. Or maybe the women had done something… but he grew tired of being angry. His mother had not given up hope. Even one week before her death, she’d reminded her son that Allah had wanted men to take on more than two wives.

“And where will I put another wife, Madar- jan ? In our small home, there is no room for another woman and I have enough trouble feeding the ones I have.”

“Marry and Allah will provide a way,” his mother had told him, her eyes half closed with fatigue.

He debated her advice, as illogical as it seemed, on his way to and from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He had been transferred from the Ministry of Agriculture and given a position working with a higher-ranked vizier two years ago thanks to his relationship with Amanullah.

When Agha Khalil arrived with his wife, it was Shah who met them at the door. His knees were dusty from trying to climb past the second branch of the tree in their courtyard, which made the visitor and his wife smile and think of their own young son at home.