“Her name is ‘Aysha’?”
“Yes, ‘Aysha’, but on paper her name is ‘Esperanza.’ But her uncle only calls her ‘Amal.’”
“Amal?”
Saad bent down to the extent his crutches would allow him. “Come here Aysha, come here, honey.” But the little girl was frightened and burst into tears.
Saad didn’t sleep a wink that night. He couldn’t even lie on his bed. He spent the night between staring at the little girl and rummaging through whatever remained of Saleema s things. In the morning and throughout the day, the little girl remained aloof from him. She stopped crying, and even though she sometimes stood still and gazed at him, she kept a safe distance just in case he tried to get close to her. But slowly her interest in him grew as she followed him with her eyes more and more. In the evening, Maryama picked her up and told her a story. When she dozed off, she put her in her mother’s bed and looked over to Saad and smiled.
“So that you can sleep next to her, Saad.”
The little girl was sound asleep, and the only thing you could see of her was her round moonlike face and the rings of black, curly hair moistened by sweat that covered her forehead. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, and he listened to his heart pounding from all these new events. He thought about how he now had a daughter, not a seed that grows in her mother’s stomach day after day, not an infant you watch nursing and crying, smiling and taking those first steps, uttering that first word or sentence, but a complete human being who knows her name and how to say “yes” and “no.” This is your daughter, he thought, right before your eyes, ready and complete. But how was this possible? They say this is Aysha, your daughter, but then they say your wife isn’t here, because the men from the Office of Inquisition came a few days ago and took her away. What did she do to make them do that? he wondered.
Maryama told him the story. “They came and searched the house, every corner and inch. They tore the place apart. It was as if some son of a bitch concocted a rumor that we were stashing secret weapons or a buried treasure. They turned the whole house upside down, Saad. It never occurred to me that they were targeting Saleema. What on earth would the Office of Inquisition want with a woman like her? But it was her they were looking for. They spent more time searching her room than they did the rest of the house. One of them had a pen and notebook and was writing down the names of all the herbs, the jars, and books. They put everything into two huge sacks. They handcuffed Saleema and carried her off in a large basket. Can you believe it, Saad, they carried Saleema off in a large basket? It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. I still can’t get over it. For a while I thought they were lunatics who escaped from the insane asylum. But Hasan assured me later on that they were, in fact, officials from the Office of Inquisition.”
The more Saad listened to Maryama, the more frightened he became. He was hoping that there would be some accusation charged against Saleema other than practicing witchcraft. But carrying her off in a basket meant that they were afraid to touch her. Saad was sure that they had arrested her and charged her with this, the most serious crime. His body began to shake in short, quick convulsions, then he bit hard on his lower lip to suppress the word “No!” that was surging from inside of him so that Maryama wouldn’t hear it.
Should he rejoice over his little daughter or give himself over to the sadness he felt for his wife? How could he cope with all these events that unfolded in the course of one day? He now understood what Umm Hasan’s face said to him when he knocked on the door and she opened it. When she saw him, she was inundated in a wave of fear and she called out for help. Whether he had aged or not, whether he was with or without crutches, she had seen him as Saad, the husband of her daughter, and she cried out to him to save her. But here he was sitting on his hands, powerless, unable to enjoy his daughter without grief, and unable to fear for his wife’s life without thinking about the existence of this little one who was stealing his heart that only knew at that moment utter bliss and affection.
As Saad sat and gaped at his daughter while she slept and thought about his wife who wasn’t there, he couldn’t hear a thing that was going on in the next room between Hasan and Maryama as they engaged in a heated conversation that never rose above a whisper.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do now,” he said in great agitation.
“Concerning Saleema?”
“No, about Saad.”
“What are you getting at?” she asked with a disturbed look on her face.
“Not only has Saad come to us having just been released from prison by an Inquisition tribunal, but he’s coming having been placed on probation. And he has to wear the sanbenito.”
“So what does that mean?”
“It means that he’s being watched, that the authorities have their eyes on him, and that puts this house and everyone in it…”
“That puts this house and everyone in it in a position of honor! All of Albaicin respects those whom the Inquisition have persecuted, and that vest raises their heads in awe.” Maryama was highly agitated and the sparks flew from her eyes.
“I’m aware of that, Maryama, and I’m not saying I don’t respect Saad. But I’ve spent too many years guarding the safety of my family.”
Maryama interrupted him and answered in a tone full of derision. “I know — you’ve been overly cautious, you wouldn’t even allow my mother and brothers to come and live with us after their house was confiscated.”
Hasan didn’t respond to her charge and paused for a few seconds before he spoke again.
“I think I’ll let him know my true feelings on the subject. Saad is very astute, and he more than anyone will understand that living away from here is safer. He won’t have to wait and hear me tell him that I honestly prefer that he not live with us.”
Maryama gave him a long, hard stare without saying a word. She stood up and calmly went off and brought back a Quran. She set it in front of him and placed her right hand on top of it. “Listen to me well and watch, Hasan. This is the book of God, and I swear upon it. I swear to Almighty God that if you bring up this subject with Saad, either openly or by dropping hints, I will leave this house before him and I promise I will never set foot in it again as long as I live.” She picked up the Quran and put it back in its place. Then she went over and lifted the cover from her bed and carried it out of the bedroom.
Umm Hasan felt Maryama next to her in bed, and she asked surprised, “Are you sleeping here?”
“I don’t know what on earth Hasan ate tonight,” she answered. “His snoring is very loud. Yes, I’m sleeping here.”
Whenever Aysha asked for her mother, Umm Hasan burst into tears. Maryama, on the other hand, thought up ways to keep the little girl occupied. She would tell her a story or invent a new game, or she would call out to Hisham to come and get on his hands and knees and neigh like a horse. “Would you like a ride on the pony, or should I ride him?” she’d ask.
“He’s a donkey, not a horse,” the little girl would answer teasingly. Then both she and Maryama would chuckle, after which Hisham would jump up in indignation and protest that he wasn’t a donkey. His mother would scold him and tell him to get back on the floor so that his cousin could have a ride. He would obey grudgingly, but get his revenge.
“My father says that Aysha is a good luck charm, but she’s been bad luck ever since she came in to this house. Her father became sick and has to walk on crutches, and the police came and took her mother away.”
His mother chides him with a threat. “I’ll kill you if you ever say anything like that again.” But the boy doesn’t balk, and his mother gives him a good whack. Then she goes over to console him and calmly tries to make him understand that he has to be nice to his cousin because she is his cousin and because her mother is away from her.