Free The Patience Stone by Atiq Rahimi Page A

prostrate themselves before their God at twilight, throws her into a panic and drives her secrets back inside. She stands up suddenly: “May God cut off my tongue! It’s about to get dark! My children!” She rushes over to lift the curtain patterned with migrating birds. Behind the gray veil of the rain, everything has been plunged once more into a gloomy darkness.

    By the time she has checked the gaps between the drops of sugar-salt solution one last time, picked up her veil, closed the doors, and made it to the courtyard, it’s already too late. Now that the call to prayer is complete, the mullah announces the neighborhood curfew and asks everyone to respect the ceasefire.
    The woman’s footsteps pause on the wet ground.
    They hesitate.
    They are lost.
    They go back the way they came.
    The woman comes back into the room.
    Upset, she drops her veil on the floor and lets herself fall, wearily, onto the mattress previously occupied by the body of her man. “I leave my daughters in Allah’s hands!” She recites a verse from the Koran, trying to persuade herself of God’s power to protect her girls. Then she lies down, abandoning herself to the darkness of the room. Her eyes manage to see through the dark toward the mattresses. Behind the mattresses, the green curtain. Behind the curtain, her man, her
sang-e saboor
.

    A gunshot, far away. Then another, close. And thus ceases the ceasefire.
    The woman stands up, and walks toward the plain green curtain. She pushes the mattresses aside, but doesn’t open the curtain. “So I’ll have to stay here. I’ve got a whole night to myself, to talk to you, my
sang-e saboor
. Anyway, what was I saying before that stupid mullah started screeching?” She makes herself focus. “Oh yes, you were wondering where I could have gotten all these notions. That was it, wasn’t it? I have had two teachers in my life—my aunt and your father. My aunt taught me how to live with men, and your father taught me why. My aunt …” she opens the curtain slightly. “You didn’t know her at all. And thank God! You would have sent her packing straightaway. Now I can tell you everything. She is my father’s only sister. What a woman! I grew up enveloped in her warmth. I loved her more than my own mother. She was generous. Beautiful. Very beautiful. Big hearted. She was the one who taught me how to read, how to live … but then her life took a tragic turn. They married her off to this terrible rich man. A total bastard. Stuffedwith dirty cash. After two years of marriage, my aunt hadn’t been able to bear a child for him. I say for him, because that’s how you men see it. Anyway, my aunt was infertile. In other words, no good. So her husband sent her to his parents’ place in the countryside, to be their servant. As she was both beautiful and infertile, her father-in-law used to fuck her, without a care in the world. Day and night. Eventually she cracked. Bashed his head in. They threw her out of her in-laws’ house. Her husband sent her away, too. She was abandoned by her own family—including my father. So, as the ‘black sheep’ of the family, she vanished, leaving a note saying she had put an end to her days. Sacrificed her body, reduced it to ashes! Leaving no trace. No grave. And of course, this suited everyone just fine. No funeral. No service for that ‘witch’! I was the only one who cried. I was fourteen years old at the time. I used to think about her constantly.” She stops, bows her head, closes her eyes as if dreaming of her.
    After a few breaths, she starts up again, as if in a trance. “One day, more than seven years ago, just before you came back from the war, I was strolling around the market with your mother. I stopped at the underwear stall. Suddenly, a voice I know. I turned around. Therewas my aunt! For a moment I thought I was seeing things. But it really was her. I greeted her, but she acted as if she hadn’t heard, as if she didn’t know me. And yet I was