The Jealous

by Laury Silvers

  Zaytuna’s voice turned hard, “Where did this come from? What do you want with boys?”

  Layla said in her sing-song way, “He’s nice.”

  “Nice for what?”

  Layla laughed, but Zaytuna could hear the discomfort in it. She knew she’d hit her mark. “Stay away from boys.”

  “But…”

  “And what does Auntie Maryam say?”

  Layla took another pair of sirwal from the basket and squeezed the last drops of water from them. “I wouldn’t tell her. She’d hit me.”

  “She should hit you.” Zaytuna held out her hand for the sirwal and gave the girl a look she could not misunderstand.

  Layla pouted, but did not object.

  She held her hand out. “A pin.” Zaytuna looked at Layla over the line as she pinned the sirwal up next to the other one. The girl looked like she was going to say something. Don’t say it girl. I don’t want to hear it.

  Her little face was turning red from holding it in until she blurted it out, “He wants to marry me.”

  Zaytuna closed her eyes in frustration. What am I supposed to do with this, God? She dug in hard to make her point, “How long has Zayd been dead? And you said you loved him like you loved no other?”

  Layla’s face screwed up with embarrassment. “Why did I tell you!” She threw the wet qamis in her hands back into the basket and stalked off, looking down onto the neighbour’s roof below.

  Zaytuna watched the qamis fall to see how it landed. It better not catch and fray. And here I thought she’d be a help to me. She called after her, “Layla, I don’t know why you told me that. Who do you think I am?”

  “That’s what Auntie Maryam said! She said I shouldn’t be visiting you, that you’d be nothing but trouble for me!”

  Zaytuna huffed out her nose at that old hen criticizing her and walked over to where Layla stood at the edge of the roof, saying as sharply as she meant it, “I’m trying to keep you out of trouble.”

  She was pouting again. “I thought you would understand.”

  “Understand? Have you menstruated yet?”

  Layla didn’t answer.

  A girl about Layla’s age was hanging clothes on the roof below. There was a lean-to attached to the vestibule stairwell leading down into the house with a thin bedroll folded up to one side of it. Zaytuna could make out a basket with some personal things nearby. She huffed again, They don’t even let that girl sleep indoors now the weather is turning cold.

  “What do you need a boy for?”

  Layla was near tears. “I’m lonely.”

  Zaytuna took Layla’s chin in her hand and looked into her face. “You have Auntie Maryam. You have a good place to live.” She let go of her chin and looked at the girl on the other roof. “Who is this boy? He’s a servant or a labourer? You won’t live in Imam Ibrahim’s house with him or where he works, either. The two of you will be holed up in a tiny room living on next to nothing, feeding some sick child, fighting with each other because you’re hungry and the rain is coming in and he didn’t repair the roof again.”

  She crossed her arms. “It’s not like that.”

  “No? How is it?”

  “He has a family. I would live with them.”

  “What do you think that’s going to be like?”

  “I could work washing clothes with you. He carries waste for a smith. His master says he’ll teach him the trade if he does a good job and stays out of trouble.”

  “Will he wait until he is past his unpaid apprenticeship to marry you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then ask him. If he won’t wait, this is not about loving you. It’s about sex; that’ll put you pregnant and serving his parents like a maid. And you’ll still be lifting wet clothes on this roof, but with a baby strapped to your back.”

  “How do you know they are like that?”

  “Because his mother was treated the same and she’s been waiting her whole life to be on the other side of it with someone serving her. She’s owed it. If you grew up in a family, you’d know.”

  Layla turned her back to her, “You didn’t grow up in a family.”

  Zaytuna winced at the remark, realizing only then what she’d said. She placed her hand on Layla’s shoulder. “You’re right. I didn’t. That’s how I know what you don’t know. Neither one of us has family. We’re alike that way.” Without thinking of what she was doing she pulled Layla to her and held onto her. Layla threw her arms around Zaytuna’s waist. Zaytuna looked down at her and let her arms go from around the girl, lifting them in the air, wondering how she’d got herself into this hug. She patted Layla on the back, “Enough of that.”

  Layla stepped back. “Why don’t you marry Uncle Mustafa?”

  “Because Mustafa is like every man.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Just wait until you are older. There is so much you don’t know.”

  Layla started to cry again.

  “Come and work with me when you can. You’re a hard worker. And for my sake, test this boy. Bring him to us. We’ll let Auntie Yulduz talk to him. If Auntie Yulduz says, ‘Yes’, we’ll work out a proper engagement with him, starting with Auntie Maryam, then his family. Uncle Mustafa can write up the contract.”

  The girl nodded, sniffing, and reached to undo the edge of her wrap wound under her arms to wipe her nose.

  “No you don’t.” Zaytuna forced a smile and grabbed her hand. “Are we going to have to go to the canal and wash your wrap again because you’ve got it all soaked in snot?”

  Layla laughed. “No.”

  Zaytuna turned her around and pushed her. “Go over there and blow it into the corner. No one will know. There’s a jug of water by the vestibule to rinse your face.”

  She looked over the edge of the roof to the other side and the girl was standing, staring up at them both, her face long and longing. Who was there for that girl, sleeping alone on the roof on her threadbare bed? She never knew loneliness like that, neither did Layla. She called out to the girl, “Assalamu alaykum!”

  The girl just looked at her without answering, then turned to watch Layla who was walking back toward the line to keep hanging laundry. Zaytuna turned from the girl on the other roof, reluctantly, not sure if there was anything she could do. Maybe they could call on her next time. Maybe bring her a sweet. But she knew there wasn’t anything. Feeling sick from it, she turned away and went back to finishing hanging the clothes with Layla. They’d need to move on to the next house soon.

  Layla followed her to the next house, then came home with her. She didn’t say another word about the boy. But the second they got around the passageway, she ran straight to Yulduz and Qambar, and it all came out.

  Zaytuna looked into the water basin, it was nearly empty. She picked up the leather bucket to go to the fountain but saw Layla nearly in Yulduz’s lap and followed her there. Let’s see what Yulduz has to say about this boy business.

  Yulduz took hold of the girl, saying, “Slow down, slow down.” She tore off a piece of the loaf of barley bread next to her and pulled a piece of meat out of the pot. “Eat, then tell me what needs telling.”

  Layla didn’t know whether to answer or put the food in her mouth and tried to do both, “A bthy...”

  Yulduz reached forward and brushed Layla’s nose with her fingers. “Chew, then swallow, then talk.”

  Layla nodded and chewed.

  Zaytuna asked, “Where is Umm Farhad?”

  “What do you want with her?”

  “There may be work.”

  Yulduz smiled as if she had a secret. “I don’t think she’ll be needing that.”

  Qambar looked at her softly and shook his head, as if to warn her from saying anything.

  “I think she’s found a man.” Yulduz said it as if Umm Farhad had been slinking around taverns and coughing to entice drunk men off their stools.

  Qambar took her hand and kissed it. “Not like that, my love. Don’t say it like that. A man to be father
to her boy.”

  Zaytuna raised her eyebrows at that news. Good for the boy. “I’m going to get some water.” She said to Layla, “Tell Yulduz everything and I want to know her answer.” She got as far as the passageway, but had to jump out of the way as a large woman pushed through in a hurry, her wrap pulled in close so she wouldn’t trip over its edge. “Who here is Yulduz?”

  Layla scooted around to see while Yulduz waved the woman over to her. The woman crossed the short bit of courtyard, Zaytuna right behind her, the empty bucket still in hand. The woman spit the words all at once, “Tansholpan sent me. Someone poisoned the girl, but she thinks it was meant for her. She told me to tell you. I’ve treated the girl. She’ll recover, but she may lose the baby. God protect them both.”

  Yulduz sat up, mouth open.

  “Baby!” Zaytuna exclaimed, dropping the bucket.

  The woman looked at Zaytuna, “The girl is pregnant. The poison might still do its work. I got there in time. Truth be told, I don’t know how much is due to me.”

  “And Tansholpan?” Yulduz demanded, “Is she poisoned?”

  “She was in some sort of trance when I got there. Praying it looked like, but nothing like I’ve seen before. Something you Turkmen do? Maybe that is what saved the girl. God knows best.”

  Zaytuna asked intently, “Did Tansholpan eat the poison, too?”

  “No, it was only in the food the girl ate.”

  “It could have been meant for Tansholpan, not Mu’mina at all.”

  The woman replied, “Do you not listen? I said that is what she thinks. And more the shame, Tansholpan would have withstood it better. She seems like a sturdy old thing. But I think the poison was for the girl.”

  Yulduz took Layla’s hand. “God protect her!”

  “Do the police know?” Zaytuna asked.

  “I don’t know. There was a guard and a female servant. They must have reported it.”

  “This morning!” Yulduz demanded, “How are you just telling us now?”

  “By God, you think I sit around all day? I had women to tend to!”

  “But they are in danger!”

  “Woman, they are in Rusafa! I spent good money on a skiff down the river to even get here. You should both thank God that I came at all.” The woman turned to leave. “Ungrateful!”

  Zaytuna reached out to hold her back. “How do you know the food was not just bad?”

  The woman looked her up and down. “I know my business. I know the effects of herbs that abort. I know them exactly. That is what that was. It was meant for the girl.” She pushed past Zaytuna.

  Zaytuna ran after her. “What did the guard look like?”

  “Tall and strong, but with a face like a baby. God hold to the Fire whoever did this!” Then she left.

  Zaytuna turned back to Yulduz and Layla and said, “They would have told the police in Rusafa, not Karkh. Tein has to know.”

  Yulduz snapped back, “You think he cares? He’s trying to get them both killed! What am I to do? What would Tansholpan think I could do?”

  Zaytuna spat out at her, “Tell Tein!” She wanted to stalk across the courtyard to slap Yulduz’s comment out of her mouth and stormed out of the passageway into the alley to keep from doing it.

  She leaned against the wall and forced herself to breathe, but her mind was still racing. That hag, who is she to put his name in her mouth? Then she reached out with her right hand and slapped her left, saying aloud, “Quiet!”

  A boy running by stopped and looked at her. “You mad old bird! I didn’t say anything!”

  She nearly bit his head off, “Walla, not you!”

  He got his back up, no one else was in the alleyway and he saw his chance. “Give me a fals, then, if you are going to be so mean. I haven’t eaten in a week.”

  She turned her back to him and put her hands against the wall to keep from saying anything or reaching down for a stone to throw at him.

  “Lady, you’re ripe for the madhouse.” He ran off.

  She kept her face pressed against the mud brick wall, feeling the grit of it against her skin, trying to focus on the small grains sharp against her cheek to bring her some kind of calm. She muttered, “Maybe I am going mad.”

  She felt a hand barely touch her on the back. “Zay?”

  She turned her head to the side and saw Mustafa beside her.

  He raised his hand to brush the grit off her cheek with his thumb, but she pulled back putting some space between them. “What are you doing here?”

  “You were saying something to yourself.”

  Zaytuna gritted her teeth. “I’m alright.”

  “What were you saying?”

  “I was praying.”

  Mustafa said laughing, “Oh Zaytuna, really. Keep that to your room. People on the street will think you’re a saint.”

  “How are you here, acting like nothing happened between us?”

  Standing back from her, he casually leaned against the wall. “What do you want me to do, Zaytuna? We disagree. It’s not the first time.”

  “That fight was not like any other, not to me.”

  Ignoring her, he asked, “How long have you been out here?”

  “You should know,” she said stiffly, “that someone tried to poison either Tansholpan or Mu’mina. But Mu’mina ate it and may yet lose her baby. She’s pregnant.”

  He pushed himself off the wall, becoming the Mustafa she knew again, “God protect them! I’ve got to tell Tein or Ammar. Ibn Salah must know.”

  “The midwife said they were in Rusafa.”

  He looked down the alleyway, as if itching to leave. “They’ve moved the women. That’s why I’m here. I came to tell you. Their case has been moved to the court in Rusafa. They are in a holding cell at Ibn al-Zayzafuni’s home. I will find Tein and tell him tonight. Don’t worry.”

  Zaytuna begrudged him a nod in thanks, then asked, “You’re sure moving the case will be better?”

  “I saw the Police Chief rule on an unrelated matter yesterday. He truly rules as he likes, anything could happen. We must go before a religious court.”

  “What will a religious judge do about her confession?”

  “Ibn Salah believes he can get the judge to lay it aside. It’s complicated. It would take a long time to explain.”

  “Excuse me! Do you think I can’t understand it?”

  “Zaytuna, your moods! Fine, I’ll say this much. A religious judge can release her if sufficient doubts can be raised whereas the Police Chief would remand her back to prison until exculpatory evidence comes to light. If it never comes, she will never be released.”

  “So when is the trial?”

  “Tomorrow. Burhan petitioned today and the court has notified us. We are as prepared as we can be. I am certain we must have missed something, but we will discuss our plan tonight again. Ibn Salah knows the judge well so he was able to secure us an investigator to determined whether or not Ammar can give expert evidence before the court. Alhamdulillah, he has been approved. He is a good man, there is no doubt, but we were worried all the same.”

  “What will happen at the trial?”

  “So much depends on whether or not Ibn al-Zayzafuni will be willing to entertain the doubts about the case that Ibn Salah and Ammar will present. Ibn Salah believes he will, but then we are at the mercy of his personal judgment of the matter not the evidence. They are Hanafi, I suppose that makes them more comfortable with this kind of judicial independence. But I worry. I am just a hadith scholar. Honestly, Zaytuna, this is beyond me.”

  Zaytuna didn’t respond, she was not yet ready to reassure him.

  He sighed. “Let’s go inside. I’ll speak to Yulduz, then I’ll go.”

  Yulduz, Layla, and Qambar were eating. Layla was chatting and waving her hands, telling a story. Clearly, Yulduz was still upset. But Qambar smiled kindly, patted Layla’s hand, then popped a broth-soaked piece of bread in her mouth.

  Layla turned around when she heard them come in, and called out, “Unc
le Mustafa!”

  She got up and ran to hug him, but he held her off playfully saying, “Layla, sweet one, you’re a bit old for that now,” and patted her on the shoulder.

  She held her hand out to Zaytuna. “Come sit, Auntie Zaytuna. Auntie Yulduz is sorry.” She turned to Yulduz and furrowed her brow comically so that Yulduz would laugh. “Aren’t you Auntie?”

  Yulduz raised an eyebrow. “If the girl says so, it must be true.”

  Holding Zaytuna’s hand and pulling her to the pot to eat, Layla said, “I checked on you. You were resting on the wall, so I left you alone.”

  Zaytuna sat down next to her. “Yes, thank you for leaving me there.”

  “All I can do is pray for Tansholpan,” Yulduz nearly moaned. “I don’t know what she thought I could do.”

  Mustafa said, “I’ll tell the police and the man representing her at trial.”

  Qambar put his arm around Yulduz. “There will be justice in the end, one way or another.”

  “Well, come you two and eat,” said Yulduz.

  “I cannot Auntie,” said Mustafa. “I am only here to give you the news that the trial is tomorrow morning, after duha in the Rusafa Mosque. We are preparing and it is going better than we expected, alhamdulillah.”

  Prodding Mustafa, Zaytuna said, “Tell her what Tein is doing.”

  “Auntie, Tein is busy trying to prove Mu’mina and Tansholpan innocent.”

  Zaytuna appreciated Yulduz’s effort to ask nicely, “Doing what?”

  “He is investigating in the marketplace to find if anyone sold a poison that could have killed the Imam.”

  Yulduz shook her head. “No one’ll speak to him.”

  “They just want to know who bought it. No one will be in any trouble.”

  The old woman looked at him as if he were stupid. “Everyone’d know they tell the police their business. They’d never have another customer.”

  Mustafa sighed. “You have a….”

  “Poison!” Zaytuna interrupted. “He must ask about the poison someone gave to Mu’mina to end her pregnancy! If the Imam was poisoned, then whoever did this to her, must be the one who killed Imam Hashim.”