Free Words in the Dust by Trent Reedy

Smaller. Her usual abruptness and anger were gone. “When you are asked questions tonight, do not answer. Do not even look up. I will answer all the questions for you.”
    “I don’t understand.” Zeynab frowned. “Why would —”
    “Come.” Malehkah motioned toward the sitting room. She spotted Khalid in the doorway to the house. “Come along, both of you. The guests will arrive soon.”
    Zeynab looked at Malehkah, her eyes wide. Malehkah’s eyes were shiny. She wiped them and nodded.
    My sister hesitated. Then she took Khalid by the hand and both of them went with Malehkah across the front courtyard to the sitting room, leaving me to wait by myself. On my way back into the house, I ground the back of my hand against my teeth. What was happening?
    Finally, after a long wait in the hot kitchen, Khalid returned with the cloth, pitcher, and water basin. Everyone in the sitting room had washed their hands and prayed. It was time for the meal.
    “Madar wants me to bring the food,” Khalid said. “I hope there’s some left over for us. There are two women in there with Madar and Zeynab. One of them is really fat!”
    I knew I should have scolded my brother for speaking badly about a guest, but I felt such a strange mix of relief and surprise that I had to steady myself against the shelves. Baba and Najib still hadn’t come home, and I had been worried that Malehkah and my sister were alone in the sitting room with Hajji Abdullah. Instead they were talking with two women. Why?
    I handed my brother a tray with the large bowl of rice, the plate of chicken, the mutton and beans, and lots of naan. “What are they talking about in there?”
    Khalid shrugged. “The fat woman is asking a lot of questions.”
    “Questions about what?”
    “I don’t know. Things about cleaning and cooking.” Khalid turned for the door. “Madar said I should hurry with the food.”
    I blew out a frustrated breath that whistled through my teeth.
    “If there’s food left, I’ll bring some out so we can eat,” Khalid shouted as he rushed out of the house.
    But with Zeynab inside the sitting room and no answers out here, food didn’t sound as good as it usually did. It was one of the longest evenings of my life. I watched to make sure Habib stayed out of trouble. I waited. I washed a few of the pots in the kitchen. I waited. Out in the front courtyard, I paced back and forth in the dust as the evening light began to fade.
    Finally, the sitting room door opened. Zeynab came out and closed the door behind her. Her hands shook, and though she smiled, a tear ran down her smooth cheek.
    “Zeynab!” I whispered. “What happened? What did they want?” I reached my arm around her back and pulled her toward the house.
    When we reached the middle of the courtyard, she finally spoke. “Zulaikha,” she said. “I think … I’m … I think I’m going … going to be married.”
    A shudder went through me. My legs shook so much that I thought I would fall down. Zeynab was unsteady too. Sheturned toward me and we leaned our foreheads together as we held each other.
    “Are you sure?” I asked.
    “Yes.”
    My sweet sister would soon be married. Soon she’d wear the dress that she and I had spent so long sewing. She’d have a great husband in a beautiful house where she could start a wonderful family.
    “That’s …” I wiped a tear from my eye and pushed away any bad thoughts about how lonely I’d be once she left. She was my sister and I had a duty to be happy for her. I was happy for her. “Oh, Zeynab!” I hugged her. “Aren’t you excited?”
    “Of course I am,” said Zeynab. “I’m just … shocked, I guess. I didn’t expect this so soon. When I overheard Baba talking about a bride-price, I just assumed he was talking about Najib’s wedding. I never dreamed he was talking about me.”
    I couldn’t wait. “Who is he? Baba-jan must have found you the perfect husband.”
    “He’s a very good man. Wealthy. Respected.”