At that moment, more than anything, Hajer wanted to escape from the house. She had to make it to the alley. She leapt away. But Ali Genav caught the girl in midair and dragged her to the wall, as if he intended to hide her somewhere. He may have wanted a kiss from her, but Hajer fluttered like a bird in his arms. She didn’t make a sound, she only flapped and fluttered. It was as if her lips had been sealed with wax. Ali Genav also said nothing. He just held the girl within his coarse hands. He had not even noticed that he had lifted Hajer off the ground and was holding her against the wall, so much so that her feet were kicking in the air.
Mergan coughed. She had not gone far and was only sitting just outside the door. No doubt she wanted to break the ice between her daughter and her groom-to-be. In any case, with hearing Mergan’s cough, Ali Genav’s hands weakened and Hajer crumbled in the corner, breaking into fits of sobs. He felt as if his entire body was covered with sweat. He wiped his forehead with the edge of his robe and lowered his face, walking out just as Mergan stepped into the room.
Mergan acted as if nothing had happened. But she sensed that the girl could not accept her silence. Hajer had not yet reached that stage of maturity where a daughter can share an unspoken language with her mother. Between a mature daughter and her mother there are always things that are communicated and understood without recourse to words. However, although Mergan could have played the role of such a mother, Hajer was not yet ready to be such a daughter. She cried and complained to her mother with a tinge of fear still in her eyes and voice, “He … grabbed me … all of a sudden he grabbed me! He almost broke my arm!”
Mergan sat beside her daughter softly and tenderly.
“Ali Genav will marry you, my dear. In a short while, he’ll be your husband. It’s sanctioned for him. His name is upon you. You shouldn’t be frightened by him. You have to get used to each other!”
“I’m scared! He scares me. I’m so frightened!”
Mergan stroked the locks of her daughter’s hair, saying, “There’s nothing to be frightened of, my girl. What’s to be scared of? All girls marry; all men marry. So what’s to be scared of?”
Hager, between seemingly endless sobs, said, “He’s rough, too rough. He’ll crush me under his hands and feet.”
“You’ll get used to him, dear. There’s nothing wrong with a man being rough! A man needs to have thick bones. If not, that’s bad!”
“I’m scared. I’m so scared!”
“It’s just the beginning; it’ll get better. You’ll get used to it!”
“No! I won’t. I’m scared to be his wife. I won’t do it!”
“That’s enough, you little mouse! Do you want to be stuck next to me forever? How many times do you think good luck knocks on one person’s door? Don’t cry an ocean for me. It’s not for you to say what you want or don’t want, do you understand?! It’s not for you to choose. Do you want to wait for a prince on his horse to come for you from around the mountain? Here you have a man … at least he has all his bones in place. He has bread in the oven. He doesn’t need anyone. He has work and, knock on wood, he’s not without a sense of honor. And what else? You saw, even your uncle approves of him!”
Mergan’s voice slowly became firmer. Hajer was trembling. Ever since Soluch had gone, Mergan had not scolded Hajer like this. Hajer began pleading, “Don’t give me to Ali Genav, mother!”
“So whom am I supposed to give you to? Don’t tell me you fancy that starving fool Morad, Sanam’s son!”
“No, I swear!”
“So what then?”
“Just wait one or two years … Why can’t we wait a little?”
“One or two years?! How am I supposed to feed you until then? You think your father’s left you a nice inheritance? Can’t you see how hard I work, and I can’t even give you a full meal to fill your belly?”
“So … so … is that my fault? What I am to do?”
“Your fault is that you don’t listen. You just make up your own mind. You’re nothing special! I saw with my own eyes that they wed an eight-year-old girl to Karbalai Ghollam Sarban. She was eight then, and she’s had six children since then. And she wasn’t even as tall as your shoulder then.”
Hajer said with difficulty, “You just want to get rid of me, otherwise …”
“Otherwise what? I should make you into a crown and put you on my head?”
“No! But I … I’m … I’ve not become …!”
“Become what? Girls are of age when they are nine. You’re of age. You’re almost thirteen now. So what’s wrong with you? You’ve got such a good husband, where will you find someone better?”
“But … he has a wife!”
“A wife! That woman’s on her last legs. She can’t be a real wife! Haven’t you seen her? She’s just skin and bones. It’s like the poor thing is speaking from the grave. She’s shrunk in half since they took her to the hospital that day. Anyway, what was she before that? A storehouse of misery! When was Raghiyeh ever healthy?”
Hajer suddenly leapt up, screaming at the top of her voice, “Are you going to force me? I don’t want to … I don’t want to get married at all!”
“You don’t want to? You little shrew, you don’t take to kind words do you? I’ll teach you to then!”
Mergan leapt up like a madwoman and threw herself on her daughter, grabbed her hair in one hand, and without hesitation made a fist of the other, raining blows on her head and body. Her fury had removed any sense of restraint, and she did not pause for a moment to consider what she was doing. She just kept hitting. The girl was almost unconscious when Mergan rose and released her, sat to one side, and began hitting herself with her fists instead, cursing herself until her sobs mixed with Hajer’s. The girl was lying fixed to her spot on the ground, crying from pain. Mergan looked at her daughter and her heart felt as if it was torn open. She could do nothing but wail. It was as if she was mourning for her daughter. She didn’t know what she could do to make up for what she had just done. There must be something she could do, but she could think of nothing but to beat and curse herself until she was exhausted. Mergan’s wailing made Hajer aware of her mother, and she looked at her. Mergan’s eyes were drenched in tears. Hajer dragged her battered body toward her mother, and Mergan embraced her daughter, pressing her head to her bosom. She moaned in unison with her daughter. “I wish I would die …”
Her sobbing prevented her from finishing the sentence. Hajer pleaded with her, “Don’t cry, please. Whatever you want. Just don’t cry, mother.”
A short while later, the sound of footsteps separated the two of them — it was Morad. He stood by the door and said, “I’m looking for Abbas!”
“Abbas went to tend the camels.”
Morad replied, “We’re heading out — a group of us have decided go to Gonbad together this year. I wanted to let Abbas know that if he wants to join us, he should come to our house tomorrow night. The others will come there too …”
Mergan said nothing. Something was caught in her throat. Morad turned on his heel and left. Mergan looked at her daughter; Hajer had hidden in a corner. Mergan rose, took the sacks and tools from beside the wall, and stepped outside before saying to Hajer, “Let’s get going to work; it’s well past breakfast …”
* * *
This day’s work would be whitewashing the dining room of Zabihollah’s home. The first task was to brush the walls clean.