The Lover

by Laury Silvers

  Maryam spoke coldly, “A lot of good those tears will do us now. Just leave this to me and get out.” She stepped towards Zaytuna.

  Layla stood alongside Zaytuna, pulling her little body up as much as she could, wrapped in Yusuf’s dirty wrap, looking like a twig of a tree trying to stop a wind from sweeping through, wrapping her arm around Zaytuna’s, “No, Auntie. Let her hear.”

  Maryam said, “You’re a good girl Layla, but there is a lot you do not understand about the world.”

  “I understand that Yusuf could be executed. Zaynab could be flogged. The Imam could lose his work. You thrown out.”

  Maryam lost her patience, “And all that is fine by you, is it?”

  She stood firm, “Auntie Zaytuna won’t let it happen.”

  Zaytuna turned to her, “Sweet one, it won’t happen. As long as Yusuf gets out before the police get here. But this has nothing to do with me. I’m leaving. I’ll never say a word of any of this to anyone. By my mother’s soul, I will never speak of this.”

  Yusuf said, “I pushed him.”

  Maryam spoke sharply, “Yusuf!”

  He went on, “He was saying horrible things about Zaynab. I told him to stop. He wouldn’t stop. So I pushed him.”

  Zaytuna paused, her eyes taking him in with sorrow, not wanting to have heard it, but needing to ask, “You pushed him off the roof?”

  “I just as good as did! I pushed him with my two hands and he stepped back to keep from falling. But there was a pot there by the edge of the roof. He tripped over it. He turned around fast to try to catch himself. But he went over instead.”

  Zaytuna stared at him, “What could he have said to you that would come to this?”

  He pleaded with Zaytuna, “Don’t make me say it.”

  Layla tugged on her hand, looking up at her, “It’s got to be what I told you. I told you Zayd didn’t love her. He loved me. He must have said something mean about Zaynab.”

  Yusuf looked at Layla, “I don’t know if he loved anyone, Layla.”

  Maryam sat down, exhausted, and looked at Zaytuna, “You’d better be good to your word woman or you’ll ruin us all. When exactly are they coming since you seem to know so much?”

  Zaytuna said to Maryam, “Later today, that’s all I heard. We have a little time yet. But still….” Unable to stop herself, she asked, “Were you there that night?”

  Maryam sighed, resigned, “No. I was in my room. It was cooler on the roof, but the boys had been quarrelling again and I was tired of listening to them going back and forth, back and forth. So I left them alone up there. I just wanted some peace and quiet. Yusuf came down to get me as soon as it happened. I knew what to do.” Maryam turned to him, “Everything would have been fine, had you just listened to me.”

  Zaytuna pressed, “Auntie, how did you keep him from speaking to the police?”

  “I got him out of the house. That puny man, he was easy enough to trick. He thinks he is so smart. Fool. I told him the truth, just enough of the truth that the rest sounded right. I told him I love these children like my own. That is true. I do. I’d do anything to protect them. He let himself believe what worked best for him and let it go. As long as we get the boy out of the house today, I can twist him around my finger again.” She spat the word out, “Police.”

  Zaytuna sorely wished she could throw those words in Ammar’s face. She turned to Yusuf, this gentle-faced boy, big enough to be a man, and said, “You must love Zaynab very much.”

  He began to cry again and spoke through his tears, “I do. She’s so gentle. She’s always been kind to me. Never bossy. Never asked me to do a thing. We talked sometimes. I like to watch the birds when they come down and settle on the Tigris to fish to feed their babies. I told her about it. I told her about whatever I’d seen when I was out. She wanted to hear about all of it. I told her about how I want to raise sheep and goats someday. My own. She didn’t laugh at me. She asked me questions about it.”

  He stopped and took a breath, wiping his tears, “She never loved me. I can’t read like Zayd can. Zayd and her read the Imam’s book together. She helped him learn it. He remembers things. He remembers things the Prophet said. He can remember whatever he wants. He memorized the whole Qur’an! He always told me she’d never love someone stupid like me. But she never called me stupid. I knew, though. I know I’m too stupid for her.”

  Maryam got up and handed him the rag again to wipe his face. He took it and blew his nose into it, repeating, “Stupid. I’m so stupid.”

  Zaytuna looked at Layla and Maryam, waiting for one of them to object, to say he was good at something, not stupid, but neither of them did. She reached across to him and knocked him lightly on the knee, saying, “You know, you remind me of my brother. He was never good with books either, but he was a very brave soldier and now he’s…,” she was about to say, “working for the police,” but stopped herself just in time. “Now he’s got a good job and can afford whatever he likes.”

  Yusuf, not listening, looked at her, pleading, “I’m going to burn in Hell.”

  Zaytuna pulled herself forward to him, “No. Only God knows where you’ll end up. God is The Forgiving and The Wise. Don’t you think God knows how you are feeling right now? Don’t you think God knows you wish you hadn’t done it?”

  “God would never forgive me.”

  “God can forgive whomever He likes. You don’t get to decide.”

  Maryam looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

  Yusuf remained focused on Zaytuna, “Really? Do you really think God could forgive me?”

  Zaytuna ignored Maryam’s dissenting opinion, and spoke directly to him, “Yes. I know.”

  Layla piped in, “See! She knows all about God. She prays all night and never eats!”

  Zaytuna looked at Layla and nearly spoke, when Yusuf cut in, “But even if God forgives me, I still killed him. He was mean, but he was still a human being. I killed a human being.”

  Layla said, “Auntie Zaytuna. I didn’t tell you, but it’s true. Zayd could be mean. He wasn’t very nice to Yusuf.”

  “Yusuf, was he teasing you that night?”

  “He wasn’t teasing.” He looked at Layla, not sure if he should speak. He moved closer to Zaytuna, leaning into her, praying that Layla wouldn’t hear him, “Zayd said that morning he’d been alone with Zaynab. He said he did ‘it’ to her and afterwards told her he hated her.”

  Zaytuna looked at Maryam, who had heard it too, “Is this true?”

  “Yusuf’s not ever lied to me and Zayd could be cruel, so I don’t doubt he said it. But that doesn’t make it true. Zayd could lie with the best of them when it suited him. She was at her cousin’s the night before and much of the next day. She, in fact, wasn’t here that morning.”

  Yusuf looked at Maryam, disagreement on his face, “She…”.

  Maryam finished for him, “...was at her cousin’s. It’s time for you to get out of this house now, boy.”

  Layla broke in saying with certainty, “Zayd wouldn’t have touched her. She would have had him but…”

  Maryam raised her hand to slap her, “Layla!”

  Layla flinched but didn’t stop, “Well, he wouldn’t have. He hated the rich. He hated how she smells. Her fine clothes. How she thinks she’s so smart.”

  Maryam dropped her hand, “Enough, Layla!”

  She went on, defiant, “It’s not right he was so mean to Yusuf, but he had been hurt lots in life. You know how his nose got broke? He didn’t even tell you, Auntie Maryam. He only told me. His parents and sister got sick and died and his cousins didn’t want to feed him, so they gave him to a rich family to work. But he laughed at his master. He laughed at him because he was so ridiculous. He thought he was like a god. One day he was wearing a long turban of white silk threaded with so much gold. Zayd said it glittered in the light.”

  She waved her arms like she was pulling out lengths and lengths of the silk herself, “So much silk with so much gold! Zayd laughed and said to him, ‘Silk and g
old won’t turn a donkey’s ass into a caliph.’ His master picked up an oil lamp and swung it at him, it hit him so hard it broke his nose clear over. Then his master wouldn’t let anyone in the household set his nose back. He locked him up so he couldn’t run away and tied his hands behind his back so he couldn’t fix it himself. His master said Zayd should think about that next time he looked down his nose at his master. He’d see what it would get him. When it finally healed, his master kicked him to the street to starve.”

  Maryam shook her head, “Oh the misery these children face. When he came to us, he was knocking door to door looking for work. Goodness knows how many doors he’d knocked on. But he never gave up. That was our Zayd. And the smile on him at our gate! My goodness, such a smile on that pitiful face. And his eyes could light up a room. He knew just what to say to make me laugh. He called me ‘Auntie Gazelle’. I wasn’t anything like a gazelle even when I was young,” she slapped her thick middle, “even before this snuck up on me. Oh Zayd,” and her body slumped over and shook with grief.

  Layla got up and came to hold her, kissing her cheek and wiping her tears away. She looked at Layla, her face now wet with tears and Maryam kissed her cheek in return. Layla stayed next to Maryam with her arm around her.

  Maryam continued, “We already had Yusuf, but I brought him in anyway. Better for me to slow down a bit with the heavy work. The Imam approved. He knows I keep a tight purse.”

  Layla said, “Auntie Zaytuna. People who are hurt can be mean sometimes. He always apologized to me when he was mean. He always made up for it afterwards.”

  Maryam added, “He didn’t show many people his true self. But this girl and I saw it. He was tender with us. He was safe here. There were nights, I don’t mind telling you, when I’d wake up to find him curled up next to me like a baby. I’d hold him through the night. He never got much of that. Not even sure if he did when his own parents were alive, and he took it from me like a baby from its mother. I never had any babies of my own. You can’t live without love. Survive, maybe, but not live. He had a life here with us. My man died young and I never had another chance. These are my babies right here, and Zaynab too. And I’d do anything to protect them.”

  Zaytuna replied, “Alhamdulilah, I’m grateful he had you.”

  Thinking of her and Tein and how they fought, the things they’d said to each other over the years, what they’d done to others themselves, she said, “How many of us have done it. We’ve been hard because we’ve been shorted love in this world.”

  Yusuf said quietly, looking at the floor, his large shoulders slumped over, pushed down from the weight of it all, “I don’t know Auntie. It doesn’t make it right. Just because he hurt doesn’t make it right that he hurts people. He hurt Zaynab so much. Why should she have to hurt, too? I shouldn’t have pushed him to protect Zaynab. I didn’t have to. I could have walked away. I could have told Auntie Maryam what he said. She could have helped. Because I couldn’t stop myself, he’s dead and I hurt Zaynab, too, and all of you.”

  Zaytuna breathed out sharply as Yusuf’s words hit her like a wave and she closed her eyes. She did not try to turn from it, she tried to gather the waters around her. She tried to sink into the pool of this hard truth that this boy knew. A boy. And how old was she, how long had she been praying through the night, how long had she been careful about what she ate, never feeding the desires of her lower soul? But she, sure as the sun rises, was feeding it sorrow and letting it do as it liked. What good is prayer? What good is not eating? What good is any of it if you make a god out of your own pain and let that god push you this way and that?

  She took Yusuf’s face in her hands and spoke quietly to him, not knowing if anyone else could hear her, “You boy. You are more of a servant of God than I’ve ever been. You boy. You are walking in the Prophet’s footsteps. You are one who understands what it means to serve God.”

  No one spoke. She heard movement by the doorway to the courtyard. Maryam turned at the sound too and started at the sight. Zaynab was standing looking at them, holding the doorway, half in the room half out. Yusuf lifted his head and on seeing her there, stood for her, hoping she’d come and sit on his stool. She didn’t move. Layla held firm, knowing it was her, and did not turn.

  Maryam said, “Zaynab! Sweet one, how long have you been there?”

  Zaynab said, “I’m sorry, Auntie. I’ve been here since you came back in. I heard the commotion and excused myself from study. Baba let me go.”

  Maryam shook her head, “I sorely wish you hadn’t heard all this.”

  Zaynab said slowly, “Layla.”

  Layla did not turn and did not answer.

  She repeated, “Layla.” Then, “I’m sorry, Layla. I didn’t know.”

  Zaytuna saw the colour rise in Layla’s face again and the girl wince to fight back tears. She didn’t turn, keeping her back to Zaynab, and said, “You have everything. You had to have him too.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “He loved me.”

  Tears were streaming down Zaynab’s face, “That’s true, Layla. I truly loved him. But he didn’t love me. He said so that last time. He loved you.”

  The tears Layla had been holding back came down, but she did not bend under them. She kept her back to Zaynab and said with cold clarity, “I hate you.”

  Zaynab jerked back as if she had been slapped. She brought her hands to her cheeks, saying, “I’ve….I’ve always been jealous of you.”

  At that, Layla turned to face her, angry, her voice high and tight, “How!”

  Maryam tried to shush Layla and she looked down at the old woman, saying, pointing at Zaynab, “How is she jealous of me?”

  Zaynab replied, “You are free. You say what you like. You come and go as you please. You decide who sees your face. You decide whether or not you want to breathe the air with a piece of cloth in front of your nose and mouth. Layla,” she paused, “You are free to love who you want. I have to marry that awful man with his stupid face and silly hair. He thinks he’s so beautiful. Zayd was the beautiful one. I don’t get to choose.”

  Layla spat back at her, “I’m free? I’m free to wash your clothes. Free to be beaten in the streets by whoever feels like taking their hand to me. Free to be beaten by my master. Free for him or his sons to rape me if they like. But now I’ve been thrown to the streets. I’ve got no more work. So I’m free to be hungry and sleep in the cemetery. I’m free alright. Zayd was all I had.”

  Zaynab’s face had turned pale, she muttered under her breath, again, “Oh.”

  Then she fell silent for a moment, taking in Layla’s words.

  Zaynab said quietly, ashamed, “I didn’t know. I didn’t see. I didn’t ask how you live. What happens to you. God forgive me.”

  All Zaytuna could think, even with the girl in such sorrow here before her, is how much her ignorance is just like the rich. Not thinking, not considering, not looking. She wanted to feel for her, she knew she should care for her, but it wasn’t coming. Instead, she wanted to grab Layla’s hand and hold it tight and say to her, “You don’t have to forgive her.”

  Maryam stepped in, speaking to Zaynab, “It’s a hard life for the poor, sweet one, and you’ve been protected from that, but every life has its own tragedies. I know you’ve had yours. Layla knows it too.”

  Maryam made Layla face her and held her hand, “Do you really think beautiful clothes and plenty to eat protects a woman from a beating, from worse than that? Come now. Think. It’s true, she’ll never know hunger, but you haven’t been hungry in a long time and, if I can help it, you’ll never know hunger again. Don’t I take good care of you?”

  “But who’s going to take care of me now!”

  “Me, my love. Me. You’ll come and live here. You’ll work with me.”

  Pointing at Zaynab, “Work for her!”

  “Yes. That’s true. I can’t change that. She can’t change that. But I’m mother to you both and that makes you sisters, like it or not. Now, listen, sweet one,
sisters fight. Fight worse than friends. Don’t I know it. But you’ll also find a way to love each other. It’ll come.”

  Zaynab stepped forward into the room toward Layla, but Layla stepped back. Her eyes red from anger and tears.

  Maryam shook Layla’s hand a little to get her attention, “What do you think comes next?”

  “You’re going to make me try to love her.”

  “I’m asking you to try. Layla. God forgive me if this is the wrong thing to say. But partly why you are so angry is that you’ve both lost the same thing. You’ve both lost your mothers. You’ve both lost the boy you love. It feels better to be angry at her, to keep your pain lonely to yourself, than to share the pain together. But trust me, sweet one, it’s better to share it in the end.”

  Zaytuna heard the words as if Maryam were speaking to her, not Layla. She felt the now familiar sense of oceanic waters coming up to her, but now they came gently, holding her.

  Layla turned to Zaytuna, “What do you think, Auntie?”

  Zaytuna took a deep breath, “I think you should try. I have to try, too, Layla. Auntie Maryam’s right. She’s right about more than you know. Thank you for coming to me, Layla. You don’t know the good you’ve done me. Hear me, girl, you are loved.”

  She looked beyond Layla to Zaynab still standing just outside the door, not with them. “You too, my sweet. You too, may you know a right and proper love that heals your wounds, too.”

  Zaynab took one more step into the kitchen. Layla stood away from Maryam, her back still to Zaynab. Zaynab stepped a bit closer and said quietly to Layla, “Sister.”

  Layla turned around and looked at Zaynab, considering her options. A moment passed, then she reached her hand out. Zaynab moved closer and took her hand. Layla spat it out, and it was not kind, but she said it, “Sister.”

  The gentleness of the ocean that encompassed and flowed through Zaytuna expanded her heart to the point that she was not sure she could bear it, and through it, an idea came to her. “Maryam, we need to get the boy out of here. Instead of an errand, well, would you be willing to give him up? I think Yusuf would do well to come with me to see Shaykh Abu al-Qasim, you know the one near the Shuniziyya mosque. I think…no, I know he could live and work there for them. They’ll take him if I ask.”