Saliha froze, then said, “Hushang. He told us.”
Agnes sat up completely while Chandi leaned over casually to her, then at the last second reached out and grabbed Saliha’s wrist, digging her fingernails in, “Maybe he did, but there’s more to you.” Chandi stood up in one movement jerking Saliha’s arm with her. “All these questions!”
Saliha let her body go slack against the couch, pulling against Chandi to yank her arm free, then tried to lift her feet high enough to kick her, but they were too close to each other. Saliha jammed her feet down, hoping to hit Chandi’s foot. She found her mark. Chandi yelled, jerking her foot back and knocking over the small table and the glass with the water in it onto the floor. Agnes was up and had crossed the room, grabbing hold of Saliha’s other arm. The two of them pulled her up to standing in one movement.
Chandi’s grip loosened for a moment, and Saliha broke free of her. She swung her arm back, twisting it out of Chandi’s grasp and tried to run for the door. She felt her wrap pull against her. One of the women had grabbed it and yanked her back. Saliha lost her footing and put her arms out behind her to break her fall, hitting the glass on the carpet, breaking it, and feeling a sharp pain on her palm and wrist as she landed. She raised her arm and saw she was bleeding, cut by the shattered water glass. The women stood over her.
“You, sit!” Chandi ordered.
Agnes objected, “No, bring her outside, she’s bleeding all over the place. We’ll have to clean this up.”
Chandi grabbed her under one arm and Agnes by the other, forcing her up. As soon as she was at the door, she broke free of them and rushed into the courtyard, yelling, “Tein!”
The women were right behind her. Agnes yelled, “Grab her!”
The guard was running to her. His dagger was already pulled from his sheath when Tein burst out of the tavern and into the courtyard, Hushang right behind him.
Chandi stopped short at the sight of Tein. “Police! He’s police!”
Tein charged into the gap between the guard and Saliha, pulling his own dagger, ready to cut the guard down if he took another step toward her. The guard turned towards Tein, but his knife was on the wrong side. Tein grabbed hold of the guard’s short robe and pulled it down hard and to his left. The pull forced the guard to turn faster than his feet could follow. He lost his balance, pitching forward onto the ground. The guard quickly rolled onto his back to jump to his feet, but Tein stepped hard on his right hand, pinning the dagger to the ground, then dropped his knee into his stomach, while pointing his own dagger directly into the guard’s throat.
Tein turned back to Saliha. She was sitting, Hushang beside her. The women were hovering nearby. Tein said calmly to her, “Are you alright?”
She nodded.
Tein saw that she had wound one end of her wrap around her hand and wrist and was holding it firmly.
Hushang took two steps toward Tein, both hands out gesturing for calm, “Please. What can we do for you?” He turned to the women, “What have you done to her? Get back now!” Then to Tein, again, “I’m sorry.”
“Will this boy keep fighting if I let go of him?” Tein asked.
Hushang said to the young guard, “This man is going to let go of you. You go into my kitchen.”
Tein turned back to the young man and then the stench hit him. He had fouled himself. Tein looked him in the eye, “I’m going to take my knee off of you. And then I’m taking your dagger. I’ll give it back to you when I leave. Do you understand?”
The young guard nodded.
“You go and get yourself cleaned up. There’s no shame. Every ghazi has a story about shitting himself on the battlefield.”
Tein let go of him. The guard got himself up and hobbled toward the tavern, holding his loose sirwal up tight around him. Tein put the guard’s dagger in his belt and went to Saliha, kneeling beside her. She was in pain, pale, but not too weak. She wouldn’t faint. Not yet, anyway.
Chandi repeated, “He’s police!”
Hushang shot back at her, “I heard you. Let me handle this.”
Tein called back to Hushang, “Get her some winding cloth, we need to put more pressure on this.”
Hushang indicated to Agnes to go get it for him. She walked slowly to the kitchen, and deliberately so, pulling her long hair up and winding it into a loose knot.
Tein yelled, “Run, woman!”
Agnes looked at him over her shoulder and walked just as slowly as she did before.
He looked up and around. Women and children were hanging over the balconies watching the scene, while the young boy with dark curls peeked out a door in the rear.
Agnes sauntered back with a rag. Hushang held up his hand indicating he’d hit her if she didn’t hurry. She ignored him and spat on the ground before Saliha as she handed Tein the cloth.
“Let’s get a better dressing on this,” Tein said gently. He carefully pulled back the blood-soaked wrap and saw the cut. It was jagged and deep, across her wrist to the pad of her palm. She would not die of this if they could get to the hospital to get it clean and closed and if it did not fill with pus and fever later. But they had to leave soon. Tein tied the rag firmly around her wrist. He took her free hand and looked her in the eyes. She was afraid. “Hold it tight and up. It’ll help stop the bleeding.”
Her eyes were wide with fear.
“I saw a lot worse than this on the battlefield. You trust me, right?”
She nodded.
“Can you walk?”
She nodded again.
“Let me get you up.”
As he helped her up, Hushang demanded, “What were you playing at? We pay you police good money, the Inspector’s men too.”
Tein put his arm around Saliha to steady her and started to walk out.
“Hold up.” Hushang shook his head at himself, “I understand now. The questions. You think one of us killed Imam Hashim.”
Chandi spat out, “Of course he’s not here to investigate Farzaneh’s death. No one cares about her!”
Saliha mumbled a response that only Tein could hear, “I do.”
Tein held back for a moment, ashamed because he knew Chandi was right. He said, “I would have had investigated it had I known.” Then turned to Hushang, “Yes, we’re here about Imam Hashim.” He gestured with his head to Saliha, “We have to go.”
Hushang walked alongside them, “You listen to me. Anyone here kills someone, we’d turn them in and be done with it. If he got beat too hard over his debts, if that’s what killed him, we’d turn the man in. The Amir would make sure of it. We don’t want any trouble.”
Saliha was becoming more pale by the moment and she began to wobble. Tein said to Hushang with calm force, “I believe you. Now get out of the way, or I’ll have to make you move.”
Hushang stepped aside. “The boy’s dagger?”
He pulled the guard’s dagger from his belt and handed it to Hushang.
Saliha slumped against him with all her weight. He lifted her up and against him. She was nearly dead weight in his arms, but not heavy to him. Her head lay on his shoulder, and he could feel her breathing against his neck. He called back to Hushang, “Come here and fold her arm up so her wrist is up by my neck.”
Hushang did as he said.
Tein felt the softness of her body against him, then pushed the thought away. He had no right. He had failed her. How could he have let her go with that woman on her own? How could he have brought her here at all?
He walked with her in his arms out of the courtyard, then through the twisted alley, until he was out past the wool stalls. People got out of their way, pulling others aside who did not see them coming. Others raised their hands in prayer for her. Every step of the way he looked for a donkey cart. Anything to get her to the hospital faster.
She murmured something he couldn’t understand.
He said, “I’m taking you to the hospital. It’s not far. I have you.”
She buried her face in his neck. He could feel her breath
through gap of his collar. I did this to her. If she dies. If she dies…
There was a donkey cart. The driver pulled the cart to a stop, waving him over. Tein laid Saliha inside it and walked beside her, holding her good hand. Her eyes were open, and she smiled at him wanly. He turned away. How could he look at her knowing what he’d done?
Finally, they reached the hospital bridge. As they neared the doors, he yelled out, “She’s bleeding!” The guard ran inside. By the time he had lifted her out of the cart and carried her through the doors, a female orderly was there. She directed them to the women’s surgery in the back beyond the courtyard. The orderly opened its door where a bench table stood in the centre. Tein gently laid her down. Her face brushed against his neck, and he felt her lips against it, pausing there, for just a moment, then whispered, “Not your fault.”
The orderly took her wounded arm, inspected the bandage, then put it back down across her chest, saying to her, “A doctor has been called, he’ll be here immediately.” The orderly went to the far side of the room to prepare a pan of water. Tein watched her as she added something to it. He couldn’t see, but it smelled antiseptic.
Saliha began to weep. “Oh Tein, Chandi was forced to have sex with Imam Hashim the night her friend died. While Farzaneh was dead below!”
He leaned over her, nodding, holding back his own tears. The idea of being without her crushed against him as if he would die of it. He nodded to her, not touching her, but wanting to hold her face in his hands, and whispered, “You were perfect.”
She managed a smile, and sighed, as quiet tears streamed down her cheeks, the kohl lining her eyes smearing her face, “I was.”
Then a man’s voice, “Saliha!”
Tein stood and turned in one movement toward the door. Judah.
Judah faced Tein, his look damning him, “What are you doing here!”
“I brought her in.” Tein stood firm.
The doctor was by her side in a moment and gently unwrapped the bandage. He bent over her to speak. Tein had to hold himself back from pushing him away. Judah said, “The bleeding has stopped. The skin is too thin to cauterize, though, so we’ll sew it close. But first, we have to wash it clean.”
The orderly pulled over a small table and placed a low basin of antiseptic water on it. Judah placed her wrist over it and bathed the wound.
He turned to Tein, “There’s no need for you to be here. You are not her husband. I have her.”
Tein did not move. Saliha reached out with her good arm to hold Tein with her, looking at Judah and shaking her head, “No.”
He felt her small hand in his, wanting to grasp it tightly, but was afraid of hurting her more. He placed his other hand over it, wishing he could have shielded her from all of this.
Judah leaned toward her again, saying softly, “As you wish,” then lifted his face to Tein, every muscle on his face drawn taut.
Tein wanted to let go of Saliha’s hand and punch him square in the face as if all of this were Judah’s fault, but he knew what he had done.
The doctor asked for the sutures and needle, and turned to Saliha again, coming down too close to her, “This will hurt, but then it will be over.”
Saliha closed her eyes and gripped Tein’s hand. He pressed her’s more firmly against his own. She whimpered with every pull of the needle tugging the wound closed.
Judah tied off the suture, rinsing it again with fresh antiseptic water, and spread a salve over the stitches. Then the orderly handed him a long strip of clean muslin to wrap the wound. The orderly cut the end of the cloth, tied it closed, then laid her arm across her chest. Tein watched Saliha. She was quiet now and had closed her eyes.
Judah said to the orderly, “Please watch her for a moment.” Then to Tein, “Ghazi, would you come outside?”
He placed Saliha’s other hand gently down on her chest; she had fallen asleep from the exhaustion of it all, and he left the surgery.
Judah’s back was to him when he got out the door. He turned around so dramatically that Tein almost laughed at him. No better than an actor in a marketplace theatre act. Tein shut the door and waited for the grand speech.
“How did this happen?” Judah demanded.
Tein wanted to answer, “Who is she to you that you can ask?” Instead, he owned up to what he’d done, “She came on an interview with me. We were questioning some people about Imam Hashim’s death. She fought with a woman there. I wasn’t in the room. She was cut somehow.”
Judah said, his voice dripping with disdain, “Somehow? How could you put her at such risk?”
“She wanted to come along. I let her.”
“You let her?”
He took the blame. “I could have refused and I didn’t.”
Judah growled, “You should have.”
Tein was suddenly struck by the sorrow he felt when he had been sitting with his Uncle Nuri by the canal. He heard within himself his uncle’s words, “A man is not the owner of anything in this world. The man who fashions himself one is a coward.” He asked himself, Who is she that I ‘should have’ anything over her? But how do I protect her if I don’t?
When Tein did not answer, Judah said in a voice loud enough for Saliha to hear, “I would not have done this. I would never put her in harm’s way. I would cherish her.” He added in a strident tone, “I would give her a beautiful home. She would never need to leave it except with her servants trailing behind her. She would be protected and watched.”
“You’ll have to ask her if she wants that,” Tein replied, exhausted.
Judah’s rage finally broke through, “And the kohl! She has so much kohl on her eyes! By God! If she were mine, she wouldn’t be speaking to the likes of you or any other man!”
Tein took a step back, tiring of him despite knowing Judah would mistake it for acquiescence.
Quieting slightly, Judah said, “If she were mine, she would not need to be a corpse washer. She would not want for anything.”
“No man will ever own her. If you don’t know that about her, then you don’t know the woman you’ve had your eye on.”
Judah took a step toward him, his hands ineffectively balled up as if he were going to be stupid enough to try to hit Tein. The man had obviously never thrown a punch in his life. Let him try. Let him break his doctor’s hands on me. Then Judah’s anger passed, his fingers relaxed, and he took a step back and then another until he was against the wall behind him.
Tein stepped forward until he was looming over Judah. “I’m going to marry her, if she’ll have me. She’ll be as free then as she is right now.” He turned to open the door behind him and return to Saliha.
Judah pushed him from behind, almost causing Tein to misstep, and said, “You are no better than a goat or a dog who lets other men fuck his woman and who raises their children as his own.”
Tein turned and took Judah with one hand by the throat, pushing him against the wall and lifting him up on his toes for just a moment. Then he let him go, leaving the good doctor gasping for breath and clutching his neck. Tein backed up until he was against the door, then turned and opened it. Saliha was sitting up on the bench, protecting her wounded arm across her chest, the orderly was helping her pull her blood-stained wrap around her and over her head. The kohl had been washed from her face. Tein helped her get to her feet.
Judah remained in the hallway, his back against the wall, humiliated. When they reached the door, she nodded to him, “Thank you for taking care of me.” She gave Tein a look that told him to keep his mouth shut, then turned back to Judah, “I respect you Doctor Judah, and I hope you’ll respect me and not share what has happened with Shatha or anyone else here. Please. It’s my fault for creating this confusion between us.” She lowered her head in a submissive gesture to him.
Having recovered himself, Judah put his hand over his heart and bowed to her, saying, “Of course. I do not need to speak of it.”
There it was. Judah affirming he could say a word and ruin her. Tein wanted to chok
e him again, but this time leave him hanging by the throat until Judah feared him so much that he’d never think to harm her. He glanced at Saliha, who saw the rage on his face and shook her head. As hard as it was for him, Tein stepped back as she wished.
Judah bowed his head to her, his hand over his heart, saying, “No harm has been done, I am sure. Please take care of the wound, and see me again should it become hot, swollen, or red.”
She nodded in thanks and turned to Tein, “Can you take me home?”
When they got far enough away, she said, “I want Yulduz to look this wound. She’ll have the right poultice for it.”
He nodded, and they walked on, he watching to see if she needed an arm to lean on, no matter what people might think, and she walking just fine on her own.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Layla held out the end of a length of cotton sheeting to Zaytuna. It was heavy, too big really for a girl of her age, but she was strong from being used to this sort of work. “Take it, Auntie Zaytuna.”
“Listen to you nagging me! I’ve got it!”
Zaytuna took the heavier end of the length of sheeting and they twisted it again to get out the last drips of water, then stretched it over the line on the rooftop. Layla dug into the basket and pulled out a pair of sirwal and handed it to Zaytuna with two reed pins to make sure it didn’t fly away.
The girl was good, she had to admit. She had the strength to slap and scrub the cloth on the washing sill and didn’t pull the clothes out of the basket willy-nilly, letting the fabric catch on its rough ends. Zaytuna didn’t see how she was able to do this and keep up with her work at Maryam’s, but if she wanted to do it, well, she was glad for the help, and the company.
“Auntie Zaytuna?”
“What did the housekeeper downstairs want?”
“She needs an extra hand, I suggested Umm Farhad.”
“For more laundry? Why not me?”
“Not laundry. But anyway, you’re busy with me and Auntie Maryam.”
“Auntie Zaytuna?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think it would be wrong of me? I mean, would it be insulting to Zayd’s memory? I mean, well. There is a boy.”
The Jealous Page 29
