Jofreh[1] was dying under Golpar’s screams. The autumn wind came sweeping from the sea, whirling among the palm trees and taking along dust, litter, and crumpled papers. It was past midnight. Maryam was tossing and turning in her bed.
“Mother, shut the door.”
“All the doors are shut. Go to sleep.”
“Is he beating her, Mother? Is Uncle Ebrahim beating her up?”
“No, my little Maryam, he’s stroking her. Now go to sleep.”
“Is she going to come to play tomorrow morning? Is she going to come to the sea?”
“Yeah, I’ll go get her myself. I’ll go get her, if you sleep [now].”
A heart-rending wail cut through the blackness and slammed into Maryam’s head. Maryam sat up, frightened.
“She’s dying, Mother, I swear to God she’s dying . . .”
She heard her mother’s snickering, and her father’s soft voice, speaking into her mother’s ear:
“The child is scared . . .”
“I’ve shut every door, and her voice still won’t let her [sleep].”
“Now that he’s caught himself a little pigeon, he’s not about to let her fly away.”
The doors of the five-door room were closed. A half-burned lantern flickered above the habbāneh (a clay vessel for storing water). Maryam lay apart from her parents, next to the wall. The voices blended together and [ . . . ]
Her mother took Maryam’s hand and forced her to lie down. She threw the night chador over her. Her father lay propped on one elbow, smoking a cigarette.
- A prominent coastal neighborhood and historical port district in the city of Bushehr, located in southwestern Iran along the Persian Gulf.