Free The Sand Fish by Maha Gargash

over, for she was struck dumb by the unfolding special language of mother and son, which left her open-mouthed and feeling useless.
    There was Zobaida’s head lifting to the roof. There was her tongue slipping out in three sharp thrusts. There was Dur-Mamad reaching out for the shriveled plants she had indicated. A punch of a fist into her palm sent Dur-Mamad scurrying to fetch a mortar and pestle. When he returned, Zobaida twisted her wrists in the air, shaping an imaginary bottle he had to bring.
    She was about to make the potion. The meeting was about to end. Noora felt cheerful at the thought.
    But then a change washed over Zobaida. She had just begun to pluck the crumbled leaves from their stems when the black and blue of her eyes rolled to the back of her head. She dropped the plants and stared ahead through milky orbs. How eerie she looked! Her shoulders began to shake in a succession of tremors that wiggled all the way to her calloused feet. Were the jinn crossing into her world? Noora looked to Sager for an answer, but he was sucked into Zobaida’s trance.
    “I’ve never seen you before,” Zobaida said. “Am I right when I say that you have come from the deep mountains?”
    Sager nodded, even though his eyes remained glazed as he followed the healer’s swaying head.
    “We are Ibrahim Al-Salmi’s children,” Noora said sharply. She had to break the daze her brother was in. “We live a day’s walk away.”
    The tremors stopped and Zobaida’s head fell to her chest. She began mumbling into her burka. Each word blurred the next, and just as Noora tried to pick out what she was saying, Zobaida coughed back to earth.
    A flutter of blinks and the black and blue of her eyes bobbed back into place. Her head wobbled slightly, and she pressed the ground with her palms, as if making sure it was still there, before addressing Sager. “You have more problems than just your father, don’t you?”
    “Everyone has problems,” Sager mumbled.
    “But there is one particular problem that jabs at your heart, isn’t there?” She fumbled for one of the shells and began stroking it. “You have now become the man of the family and your biggest concern is your sister.”
    Sager dropped his gaze and said, “It’s true I worry about her. But then, what brother doesn’t worry about his sister?”
    Noora crossed her arms high over her chest and grunted. They were talking about her as if she wasn’t there. Where was this leading to?
    “She refuses to listen to you,” Zobaida said. “One thing you must know is that she’s different—headstrong, wild. But then, that’s all right.” She chuckled. “I’m different from other women, too.”
    Noora scowled at the witch’s attempt to spin her humor on the seriousness that had gripped the air. “I’m not so different, khalti,” she said, and wondered whether she should be calling her aunty at all.
    Zobaida stayed focused on Sager, releasing her eyes in an unremitting prowl over his face. “You see it was written that you would come for one problem but instead get the solution to another—the hidden problem that’s eating up your mind.” Zobaida touched her temple with a finger. “Your sister is growing too old—unmarried—and you don’t know what to do.”
    Noora objected with a squeaky gasp.
    Zobaida hushed her with a wave of the arm, as if she were no bigger than a mosquito, and continued to address Sager. “You want the best for her, but of course it’s unthinkable that you try to find a husband for your sister. It’s just not done, to throw her name around like that. Shameful, wouldn’t you say? I mean, it’s the man who picks the wife, not the other way round. But I can help. You see, I was told what’s best for her. I was given the solution.”
    Did she say solution? Noora wanted to storm out of the hut, end this strange visit without giving it any more thought. But her breath thickened with curiosity and her limbs felt heavy. She remained where she