The next morning before prayers, Malehkah and I washed off the dried henna to reveal the deep amber and brown swirls on Zeynab’s skin. It looked beautiful, but we couldn’t admire it for long. There was a large breakfast to cook after prayers. Baba didn’t want to give Uncle Ramin a chance to complain about the food.
After that, most of the hot day was devoted to getting ready for the nikah. We cleaned both the house and the people in it. I swept and scrubbed the sitting room on my own while Malehkah and Zeynab bathed Khalid and Habib. Later, when the sitting room and house were ready and all of us were washed and dressed in our best, it was time to prepare Zeynab.
In the side storage room, I helped my sister into the beautiful embroidered green dress that she and I had worked on and dreamed about for years. “Are you nervous?” I zipped up the back of her dress.
“Hmm. I think maybe there are two kinds of nervous.” Zeynab closed her eyes as I brushed thick white makeup onto her cheeks. “There’s that feeling you get when you are worried about doing something you don’t want to do. Then there’s a happy anxious feeling, when you’re excited because a wonderful and important moment is approaching. I’m happy nervous.”
“I’m happy too,” I said. Neither of us spoke as I finished putting on her makeup and curled her hair, pinning it up into a pretty crown. Maybe I should have said more, but we’d been so close for so long that we didn’t always need to talk, especially when all that remained to discuss was what we both already knew. This was the end of our time together, and although we’d always dreamed about our weddings, now that Zeynab’s had come, we would miss each other terribly.
The door opened. Malehkah and all the other women came in. She examined Zeynab and nodded. “Tahir is in the sitting room with the rest of the men. The mullah has arrived.”
Zeynab squeezed my hand and stepped toward the door. “Should we go?”
“Just wait.” Malehkah held up her hand. “The mullah will send two witnesses to ask if you are willing to get married. After they take back your answer, your father will sign the papers for you. Then the mullah will lead a prayer and the nikah will be over.”
“You mean they don’t even need her to be there?” Khatira asked.
Malehkah’s mother and sister laughed. Aunt Halima hugged her daughter. Malehkah scowled. “I wasn’t present for mine.” She shrugged. “It’s tradition.” Zeynab frowned. When Malehkah saw her disappointed look, she went on. “There’ll be plenty to do at the arusi in Hajji Abdullah’s house. Gulzoma says she’s even hired two bands, one for the men and one for the women’s party.” She sighed. “Should be quite a show.”
Then it was quiet for a while. We waited, and I held Zeynab’s hand.
After a few minutes, Najib and Baba’s brother Ramin came to the door and asked Zeynab if she was willing to marry Tahir. Of course she said yes. Then they left and we waited some more. I squeezed my sister’s hand. It was really happening. The long-awaited wedding day had finally arrived. These were her last few minutes living here at home.
“Malehkah?” Baba’s voice came from just outside the door. His happiness seemed to charge his every word. “It’s time to go!” When Malehkah opened the door, he stepped in, wearing his new Western-style suit. She shook her head. “Don’t be so grumpy,” he said to her. “This suit was a much better idea than any old perahan-tunban. Tahir is a smart businessman. He’s invited the Americans to the wedding.” He smoothed his hand down over the silly strip of cloth that hung down from his neck, this thing he called a tie. “Rude as they are, they probably won’t bother to show up. But if they do, I’ll be ready to show them that I’m just the man for all their welding needs. HA!” He clapped his hands. “But that’s enough complicated men’s talk. Zeynab, your husband’s family is outside and ready to take you to Hajji Abdullah’s for the arusi.” He went back out to the sitting room.
I regretted not saying anything while we waited through the nikah. Now I wanted to tell Zeynab so much, but everything was happening very fast.
After a few minutes, we could hear the singing — happy songs of love and hope. Malehkah and I helped Zeynab into her chadri and led her out of the house to the front courtyard, where most of the women who had been at the shahba-henna awaited her. Just before they took her outside to the street where their cars waited, Zeynab squeezed my hand.
The arusi was usually held at the groom’s home, but since Tahir lived over an hour away in Farah, Hajji Abdullah had offered the use of his beautiful new house for the occasion. Uncle Ramin rode up front in Baba’s Toyota. Najib, Halima, Khatira, and I rode in the backseat. Uncle Ghobad, Malehkah, her family, and the boys followed in their car.
As we approached the Abdullah compound in the new section of town, Baba smiled and pointed. “You see? Look. Look at that compound. No mudstone walls there. No. All cement block. Look at all those colored tiles on the second floor. He’s got a big porch up there where you can see down into his back courtyard and out to the mountains. And all of this built just in the last year since he’s been working for the Americans!”
“And now you’re building for the Americans too, Uncle Sadiq,” said Khatira.
Baba’s grin was hard not to catch. “Yes. And my darling daughter is marrying a great man today.” He tooted the horn and smiled.
Baba parked our Toyota just off the dirt road in front of the Abdullah compound. We tumbled out of the vehicle. I smoothed out my freshly cleaned pink Eid dress the best I could. We went up the path past many cars. The sound of music came from inside the compound. Zeynab must have already gone in. Habib stopped for a moment and looked up with an open mouth at the big house, but Khalid grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him along. When we reached the compound gate, Baba knocked on a colorful door, but I was not prepared for what I saw when the door opened.
“Salaam. Welcome to our home.” Anwar. He spoke with his right hand over his heart as he bowed to the men. On his face was a grin like the one he had whenever he’d just pulled off a particularly cruel stunt. His eyes quickly swept us all, stopping for just the smallest instant on me. I pulled my chador up to cover my mouth as Anwar stepped back and motioned for us to pass him and go inside. “Please come in.”
Everyone went through the gate, and Anwar made a little bow to Baba again. “If you will follow me? The men are celebrating inside where it is cool. The women can head down this hall to the back courtyard.”
Baba-jan thanked Anwar, who led him down a separate corridor. Baba gently pushed Uncle Ramin, Uncle Ghobad, and Najib ahead while he held back a moment. He held out his hands to Khalid and Habib and spoke louder so the little boys would be sure to listen. “Let’s see if you’re big enough to behave yourselves at the men’s party this time.” Then he led my little brothers away to celebrate with the men.
“Come on.” Malehkah beckoned with the veil she carried, leading us all down the hallway toward the back of the house. “I need to get out of this chadri and sit down. Besides, we don’t want to keep the women waiting.”
The Abdullah house was a massive two-story castle, easily four or five times the size of our little mudstone home. The entire front courtyard was cement save for a circle cut out for a palm tree. Flowers grew in little pots everywhere. The back courtyard was much the same, except a larger part was left without cement for a garden. In the center of the back courtyard was a beautiful, circular fountain with colored tiles, a column of water spurting up in its center and streams of water arching from the outer ring toward the middle. Women were already seated on rugs, talking and drinking tea. Would Zeynab live in a house like this? If so, it was a good thing Tahir had two other wives. She would need a lot of help to keep such a large house clean.
“There you are!” Gulzoma came out of one of the back doors of the castle onto the stone porch. She wore a flowing blue dress and spread her big arms out wide. “Come on, all of you, take those chadris off and come up here. Zeynab is waiting right inside. She looks absolutely beautiful.” When the women had removed their chadris, Gulzoma swept up Malehkah in an embrace. “Malehkah, you look lovely. Such a pretty dress.” She stepped back and put her hands on her hips. “Have you been sneaking visits to my tailor? Meena is so talented. She made this for me just for this wedding.” Gulzoma spun around, showing off her blue dress. My face grew hot with the mention of sneaking visits to the tailor. Meena was more talented than Gulzoma would ever know.
Just when Malehkah was about to reply, Gulzoma switched her attention to her mother and sister. It was as if Malehkah had vanished and her family had suddenly appeared on a wind. “Farida! Tayereh!” She put heavy emphasis on each of their names as though it was the first time she’d ever heard them. “I can see good taste runs in the family!” She turned to look at Halima and Khatira and spread her fingers over her chest. “And are those the latest styles from Kabul? Beautiful!”
Then she ran her hands down the sleeves of my dress. “Oooh, my baby girl! My little bird. There just aren’t words.” I suspected that somehow Gulzoma would find more than a few words. She kissed my cheeks, one after the other, then pulled me to her, smothering me against her big chest. “Look at you, in a pretty dress. Trying to look pretty but with your poor, poor mouth.” She was making such a big show of my mouth that other guests were starting to look. “Oooh!” She leaned forward and spoke quietly. “Don’t you worry. I am going to convince my husband to make those Americans get you all fixed up.” She spun me around to stand beside her with her arm draped over my shoulders. “She’s a bird. Just a very bird! We are going to get her all fixed up. I just know it.”
When she stopped to breathe, I thought it best to take my opportunity. “Tashakor, Gulzoma. I am very grateful.”
“I’m sure you are! I’m just sure you are. You sweet little thing. You bird.”
I really wished she would stop calling me bird.
Gulzoma led us through a set of double glass doors into a beautiful room with a carpeted floor, a soft sofa, two chairs, and a small polished wooden table on which rested a tray of fruit and some bottles of water. Zeynab sat on the sofa, trying to hold back her smile. She looked at me and then at Gulzoma. I was sure she had heard everything outside. “Here she is!” Gulzoma squeezed my sister’s arm. “So beautiful! Here is where you will wait until it’s time for you to walk up and join Tahir by our fountain. I have to go make sure the servants are taking care of the guests. Half the town of An Daral is going to be here.” She laughed. “Our family is large, but my husband has also invited others, even the Americans. And though I begged him not to, he just had to invite the Farah Province governor!” She leaned toward Malehkah and lowered her voice as though telling a big secret. “I really hope he doesn’t come. You know, I was just saying the other —”
“Gulzoma!” A stern voice boomed from another part of the house.
Gulzoma instantly stood straight up and turned serious. “My husband.” She glided out of the room.
Zeynab let out a breath. “I’m glad she’s gone.” We snickered, but Malehkah turned a warning glare on us both.
“This is the home of your host. You will not disrespect anyone who lives here.”
“Bale, Madar,” we said together.
She leaned in close to us. “Do not embarrass your father,” she warned. She turned to me so that her face was inches from mine, the wrinkles around her eyes folding into deep creases as she scowled at me. “Remember your place, Zulaikha. Remember your duty.”
“Bale, Madar.”
Zeynab turned her head to the side. “Madar, why are you so upset? Why can’t you be happy? This is supposed to be a happy day.”
Malehkah snorted. “Your special day.” Then her expression softened and her eyes glistened just a little. “Oh, Zeynab,” she said.
My sister’s mouth fell open and she looked at Malehkah, wide-eyed. “Madar? What is it?”
Malehkah shook her head and then forced a smile. “Nothing.” She wiped her eyes. “Nothing. Let’s just make this day the best it can be.”
This apparently satisfied Zeynab. “Tashakor, Madar.”
Malehkah only nodded. I couldn’t get past the feeling that she had wanted to say more — that Zeynab had been too easily comforted by her false smile. I looked at my father’s wife as she ate a banana from the tray. No matter what she said, she seemed determined to ruin Zeynab’s dream wedding. I clenched my fists. I’d just have to work extra hard to make sure the day was perfect.
The sound of voices and laughter made me peek through the curtain covering the door to the back porch. Dozens of women were crowding the courtyard. The men must have been filling up other parts of the house. Children rushed around serving the women. I touched my split upper lip. My hand was sweaty. I forced myself to think about Zeynab and not about having to go out there in front of all those people.
At least it was as wonderful a setting as Zeynab and I had ever dreamed of. The servants were bringing out the food. It was a lot like last night’s feast, but of course, here at the Abdullah house, there was more. I could see roast chicken, mutton, beef, and goat. Enormous bowls of rice with little pieces of carrots and raisins. Roasted buttered potatoes. Radishes, pickled cucumbers, and peppers. Bowls of nuts. Bowls of candies. Oranges, apples, bananas, and pomegranates. Almost all that An Daral had to offer for food, plus some things from the bazaar in Farah City, were laid out for the enjoyment of the guests.
Three women brought their musical instruments out and took seats on a rug off to the side of the fountain. One set up her tabla drums. Another began to warm up by squeezing her harmonium and pressing the keys. The third strummed and plucked the strings on her rubab, turning wooden keys at the top of its neck to adjust the sound. I looked back at Malehkah and my sister. “The women’s band!” Not in our most elaborate fantasies had we ever dreamed that Zeynab could have a band just for the women’s party at her wedding.
“It won’t be long now,” said Malehkah. “Soon, Tahir will come.”
“Bale, Madar.” Zeynab’s voice was shaky.
We waited and waited, while out in the courtyard more and more women arrived. Finally, Malehkah snapped her fingers. “The veil. It’s almost time.”
I carefully helped her lift the veil over Zeynab’s head. Now, in the beautiful green dress that she and I had worked on for years, with the soft white veil over her face and her hair curled up atop her head like a crown, my sister literally shone. The sequins on the skirt of her dress sparkled.
“You’re beautiful,” I said.
“So are you,” she whimpered through tears.
“I love —”
“No! What are you doing? No crying! You’ll make a mess of your makeup and your eyes will be all red.” Malehkah took Zeynab’s white wedding cloth from her pocket, pulled the veil back up, and dabbed carefully at her eyes. “You are not a child anymore, Zeynab. You can’t be crying like this. They’ll think you don’t want to get married. They’ll think you’re ungrateful. Imagine what they’ll say about your father if you go out there with all these tears. You have responsibilities.”
“But Madar, I —”
My father’s wife cracked her hand across Zeynab’s cheek.
Zeynab and I were silent and still. We stared at Malehkah in horror. Malehkah waited for a moment, her eyes wide, as though she was challenging us to defy her. Then she sighed, handed me the wedding cloth, pulled Zeynab’s veil back down, and went back to the curtain. “Remember what I have told both of you.”
We didn’t answer. Malehkah may have shocked the tears out of my sister, but she had also taken the last bit of joy from the room. She turned around and looked us both over. “He’s coming. Be ready.”
Zeynab turned her eyes toward the floor. She was not supposed to look at her husband. It was especially wrong to make eye contact with him. She sighed.
“Shh. Quiet,” Malehkah hissed.
I peeked around the curtain again. Finally, Tahir stood waiting in the front near the fountain. He was clean-shaven and his dark hair was flecked with just enough gray to make him handsome. Wrinkles in his forehead and at the corners of his eyes suggested wisdom and reminded me of Baba-jan. He wore a nice new embroidered perahan-tunban and several gold rings on his fingers. He was very tall.
“Oh, Zeynab,” I said. “He’s amazing. He looks so strong and sure.”
Malehkah nodded and opened the doors. “It’s time,” she said, ushering Zeynab outside.
The music out in the courtyard changed to something slower and more somber, and Tahir smiled, looking down as well.
Zeynab and I had often dreamed of her wedding day, but never had we imagined her husband to be so much older. Older, maybe, than Baba-jan. Still, this was the way of things, right? Baba was much older than Malehkah. Besides, Baba-jan loved us all and was certain that he had found Zeynab the perfect husband. I looked again at the big man who waited for Zeynab. He was established and strong. A good Muslim, to be blessed with so much wealth.
“Be a good woman,” Malehkah said quietly in my ear. She handed me a cloth-wrapped Holy Quran. “Do not disappoint your father.” She went out and sat down on a rug near the front. I held the Holy Book over my sister’s head as I followed her slowly to the fountain.
Once Zeynab stood by Tahir’s side, they played around at whose foot would be in front of the other person’s. It was said that the foot that ended up in front belonged to the boss of the marriage. Zeynab finally lost, as was expected, and there were chuckles and murmurs from the women.
Then it was time for them to sit on their throne, the same small, red, cushioned couch that Hajji Abdullah had brought to our house for Zeynab last night. Now whoever was last to sit down would be the boss of the marriage. When Malehkah had told us all of these wedding rules, Zeynab and I had laughed, thinking these little rituals were cute. It was cute now, too, and I smiled behind my chador as Tahir and Zeynab each stood facing forward, neither one willing to sit down. Then Gulzoma came up to the front with her hands on her big hips and an amused frown on her face. She smiled at me and at all the women, then she put her hands on both Tahir and Zeynab’s shoulders, gently pushing them both down at the same time until they sat. Everybody chuckled and clapped. Gulzoma bowed to everyone and returned to where she sat near Malehkah.
Now I knew it was my turn. I took a deep breath and carefully placed the Holy Quran on a small table near the couple. I pulled my chador over my mouth. My legs shook and my hands were sweaty as I felt so many eyes watching me. I was grateful, at least, that the men celebrated the wedding separately.
I felt a hand press my back and turned to see my cousin Khatira. She nodded at the green, lace-edged shawl on the table. Together we held up the shawl by all four corners over Zeynab and her new husband. Then one of the girls from the Abdullah clan brought a mirror and slowly reached around to hand it to the couple.
There in the mirror I watched these two people who would spend the rest of their lives together look at each other for the very first time. Tahir smiled broadly. Zeynab saw Tahir’s reflection and for just a moment, she had the smallest look of surprise. Then she studied his face, his dark eyes, the firm line of his chin, and his warm smile. She smiled too — smiled beautifully because she was so beautiful.
For an instant she looked at me in the mirror, and I, her sister, knew. Tahir was older even than she had expected. This was true. But she was happy. I nodded to the Abdullah girl and handed her my two corners of the shawl. Then I gave thanks to Allah for His book before I picked up the Holy Quran from the table. I held it above the heads of my sister and Tahir. Behind me, everyone went silent and in my heart I prayed for my sister’s many future sons, for her husband to be kind, and for her happiness. After I passed the Holy Quran to Tahir, he kissed the book and opened it. He read a few of the sacred lines, placed money in the book, closed it, and then kissed it again. I accepted the book back from him and carefully placed it back on the table. With a nod to Khatira, I pulled back the shawl. My role in the arusi was finished.
Tahir and Zeynab held hands as they stood up and turned around to face everyone’s cheers and applause. The band struck up another song and people moved about.
Khatira and I sat down next to Malehkah and Aunt Halima. I watched Zeynab and Tahir stare straight ahead with unsmiling faces for picture after picture, as was expected by custom. They cut into a huge cake before they fed each other crumbling pieces. I wanted to go speak to my sister, but Malehkah held me back. “Stay out of the way and just watch.”
When the music changed to something more spirited, many women took to dancing. I wanted to join them, but didn’t like the thought of all those people staring at my mouth. I kept to myself with my chador covering me.
Malehkah rose to go get cake. “Here,” she said when she returned. She handed me a plate with a piece of cake and the sweet bread powder called maleeda. “The cake is a bit too dry, but you should try to enjoy yourself.”
“Bale, Madar,” I whispered. She was right — the cake was the worst I’d ever had. I nodded to my father’s wife. “Tashakor,” I said, happy to have something to do besides sit and watch.
Later, Tahir went inside to the men’s celebration, and my sister sat alone on the cushioned wooden couch, not allowed to join in the festivities at her own wedding. She nodded her thanks to each guest who congratulated her in turn. I waited for my chance to talk to her, but it never came. The line was too long. She sat right in front of me, and I already missed her.
Eventually, Gulzoma emerged through the glass double doors from the room where Zeynab had prepared for the arusi. Several women and girls, all of whom carried large platters piled with gifts, followed her. When she reached Zeynab’s side, she clapped her hands and nodded for the band to quiet down. “Everyone, thank you for joining us for this wonderful occasion.” She slid her arm around Zeynab’s shoulders. “Tahir is simply overjoyed to have such a pretty young woman for his wife. It is time to see just how much he loves her by presenting the dowry!” She held up a dark blue dress, then draped it over her arm. “Look at this dress! Such a beautiful deep blue! It almost matches mine. What’s next?” She looked at another platter and smiled. “Ooooh, what a necklace! Let’s just put this majestic gold on the lucky bride. In fact, there’s so much jewelry, let’s just put it all on this perfect doll right now!” She went on like that, showing off all the gifts, giving special attention to a chadri from Hajji Abdullah. There were at least three complete sets of new clothes and two chadris. My sister glittered with two gold bracelets and a pair of dangling gold earrings. Her sparkling gold necklace must have been heavy, thanks to the deep blue lapis lazuli pendant that hung from it.
When Gulzoma had finished revealing the gifts, Malehkah spoke quietly close to my ear. “It’s tradition to offer a gift from the dowry to repay the hostess for her kindness.” She groaned and stood up. When she reached Zeynab she bent down and reached around to the back of Zeynab’s neck, whispering something in my sister’s ear. Then she removed the lapis lazuli necklace and offered it to Gulzoma.
“What?” With a look of openmouthed surprise on her face, Gulzoma held her hand to her chest.
“Tashakor, Gulzoma-jan, for such a beautiful wedding,” Malehkah said.
“I just couldn’t accept such a lovely necklace. I mean, I already have so many….” She put a finger to her lips. Then she shook her head and reached out to take the offering. “Zeynab is just so generous. How can I refuse such a kind gift?” She held the necklace up and people clapped. Then she nodded to the band and the music started up again.
“So much attention on gifts,” I whispered when Malehkah returned.
My father’s wife looked at me and spoke quietly. “Now, you are beginning to understand.”
After the sun had gone down and the stars sparkled brightly, Tahir returned and whispered something to Zeynab. They stood up together, her small delicate hand wrapped in his big, strong fingers. At once, all the women began clapping and whooping.
“Time to go,” said Malehkah. I stood up with her and helped her into her chadri. We followed the couple to the front of the house, where we met Baba, my brothers, and the other men. My family walked close together, all of us except Zeynab, who would never walk with us again. If I could feel her absence this much here among this great crowd, how empty would life be at home without her? I shook my head and tried not to think of it. It was wrong to feel sad on such a happy occasion.
At the car, Malehkah’s family said their good-byes and offered to drive Uncle Ramin and his family to our house for the night. Then they’d drive home to Shindand. As for us, we would go to Tahir’s house in Farah to say good-bye to Zeynab and to wish her well in her new home. Tahir and my sister climbed into his long white Toyota, which had been decorated in green, orange, and white ribbons and flowers.
In our Toyota, nobody spoke until my father started the engine. “HA! A wonderful day! Tahir Abdullah is a good man.” Baba clapped his hands before shifting and swerving to get a good position close to the marriage car. “He’s rich and getting richer! He will take good care of Zeynab, and he’ll make a wonderful husband!”
I smiled at Baba’s enthusiasm. Malehkah sat stiffly in the backseat with me, probably frowning under her chadri like she always did. Habib squirmed in my lap, trying to find a more comfortable position to sleep.
“And you, Zulaikha. Tahir tells me you did a marvelous job at the wedding. Tashakor. It’s all so good! Tahir is lucky to have a nice, young wife instead of just those two old crones.” My father laughed. Even quiet Najib smiled and chuckled a bit. Baba loosened his tie. “And thanks to some of the arrangements I’ve made with the Abdullahs, we’re going to be making a lot of money!”
Malehkah turned to look at me. She patted Khalid, who was sitting between us, resisting sleep. She seemed to watch me for a long time through the mesh window in her chadri before she turned away and stared out the window. Our car rolled on through the dark desert, following the red tail-lights of the car in which my sister rode with her new husband.
“See?” My father’s shout jolted me awake. He ducked down so he could see Tahir’s house past Najib on the passenger side. “What a fine big house. What did I tell you? Cement block walls. A second story being built even now. A fine match we’ve made for Zeynab.”
We left the boys sleeping in the car and followed Tahir, Zeynab and Tahir’s family … Zeynab’s new family … up to the compound. Baba stopped and admired the house for just a moment, smiling and nodding before he led us inside. Feeling half asleep, I pulled my chador over my mouth as I entered the compound. Then the band started playing. Tahir had hired a band! A man smiled while he played a rubab. Another slapped out the rhythm on the tabla drums. A third squeezed and worked the keys of a sparkling harmonium as he sang about the greatness of Allah and the wonder of marriage. The cement pathway led across the courtyard to the cement front porch. Both the path and porch were lit by rows of candles on each side. After the women had removed their chadris, Tahir took my sister by the hand and walked her toward the house.
An older woman emerged from the front door. Her silver dress complemented her long gray hair. She grinned as a younger woman with shorter hair and a bluish green dress joined her. The first kept her smile as my sister climbed the two steps to the porch. “I’m Leena,” said the older woman. “Welcome to our home.”
“My name is Belquis.” The second woman stepped aside from the door. “Please come inside. We have tea ready. And food if you’re hungry.”
Tahir’s wives showed us in, where a beautiful woven rug covered the floor and a platter stacked high with some naan, oranges, bananas, and pomegranates sat next to a teapot and about a dozen cups on a polished wooden table. A small electric light hung from the ceiling, and back in the shadows the family watched us. There were at least six small boys and girls. I also saw a girl my age and a couple boys who looked a little younger. A young woman, maybe one of Leena’s daughters, held a small baby of her own. I made sure to keep my mouth out of sight behind my chador.
Introductions were exchanged and most of the adults drank tea. Baba had an orange, but when none of the other adults ate, the children quickly took care of the food. I might have enjoyed some naan, but I didn’t want to embarrass Zeynab in her new home by making everyone watch me eat. The music floated in from the courtyard outside and the conversation slowed.
Finally, Tahir slipped his hand around Zeynab’s back. “Let me show you where you’ll be sleeping.” He led the way to what must have been his bedroom, and we all followed. “These are new blankets,” said Tahir. He patted his incredibly big bed. It would be the first time my sister had ever slept on anything but a toshak.
I held the end of my chador up higher to cover my hot cheeks and tried not to think about my sister and Tahir. This was the way it was supposed to be, but it felt different seeing Tahir’s bed. I turned and looked at Zeynab, trying to focus on something else.
Belquis stepped forward. She held out a hammer and nail to Zeynab, who was still smiling but shaking — nearly trembling. Malehkah had prepared her for this tradition before the shahba-henna. Standing up on her toes, she was just able to hold the nail to the top of the wooden door frame. With a number of timid taps at first, and then some harder hits, she drove her nail in beside two others. Zeynab’s destiny was now fixed to this house, and to the man who owned it.
Baba smiled and shook Tahir’s hand, pulling him closer and clapping him on the back with his other hand. “I’m very happy,” said Baba. “These are good times.”
Tahir nodded. “Bale, the very best.”
“Khuda hafiz, Najib,” said Zeynab. She hugged him. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Khuda hafiz,” Najib said.
Baba hugged her next. “My beautiful daughter. I’m so happy for you. Everything has turned out perfect!”
Zeynab blushed and spoke quietly. “Tashakor, Baba-jan.”
I wanted to make sure I was the last to say good-bye to my sister. I waited for Malehkah to say something, but she only pinched my elbow to remind me of what I must do.
I walked up to my sister in that dimly lit bedroom and quietly slipped her the wedding cloth. Before it became too awkward, I threw my arms around her. “I love you so much!” I blinked my eyes to try to hold back the tears. “I’m so happy for you.” Even with my disfigured lips, I kissed Zeynab’s cheek.
“I love you, too,” Zeynab said. When I stepped back, she smiled. “Tashakor.”
We went back to Baba’s Toyota and then to An Daral, leaving my sister in her new home.
Late the next morning, Jamila arrived at our compound carrying a cloth sack. She smiled at Malehkah and me and then pulled from the bag Zeynab’s wedding cloth, stained with my sister’s blood. Malehkah smiled, accepted the cloth, and thanked Jamila. Once she left, Malehkah’s smile vanished.
“There,” she said. “It is finished. Your sister is married.” She handed me the cloth. “Now go burn this thing.”