Missing Soluch by Mahmoud Dowlatabadi Read Free Book Online Page B

the last stalk onto his bundle. Salar Abdullah began undoing the buckle of his belt as he strode quickly toward him. He had to undo all of the humiliation he’d seen that day. Abrau did his best to tie up the bundle before Salar Abdullah reached him, but he was too late. Just as he had lifted the bundle to his back and was beginning to escape, Salar Abdullah reached him and threw him to the ground.
    “And you’re from the same stuff as that other son-of-a-whore!”
    Abrau’s cries and pleading had no effect. Salar Abdullah, lost in the long folds of his cloak, circled around him like a hawk, landing blows from the left and right. His belt was thickand heavy, and Abrau’s small and emaciated body was only covered by his pants, a shirt, and a loose jacket. Salar had lost his mind, and he clearly had forgotten that Abrau was not even fifteen years old. He bruised the boy with an endless rain of blows from his belt, kicks, and punches. When he finally stopped, as he was buckling his belt back up, he said, “Now get up. Get up and take the good news to your mama, so she knows whom she’s dealing with! And tell that rat brother of yours to keep his eyes open until we settle accounts. I’ll see him again unless he leaves this village for good. So get out of here!”
    Abrau, whose old shirt and pants had been torn in different places under Salar’s blows, picked up his bundle. Sobbing with a sound like a calf’s braying, he left, limping unevenly.
    Exhausted, his face and hands smeared with dirt, Abrau reached the refuge of the old fort. Abbas had gone behind the ruins to rest. The sound of uneven steps, and Abrau’s last vestiges of sobbing and sniffling, drew Abbas out from behind the ruins. Ignoring his brother, Abrau continued on his way back to the house. He only wanted to find some corner to crawl into and to burrow his head inside an old quilt. He’d taken a beating unjustly, and he was angry with Abbas. He didn’t want to see his ugly face. It always ended this way. When it came to pay the price for something, Abbas was first to run away. He’d set the fire, and then disappear. Despite all of this, Abbas could be even more impudent than his brother had realized. He stode alongside Abrau and began asking him, “Is he gone? Where’s Salar Abdullah? Which way did he go? Hey are you deaf? I’m with you, stupid!”
    Abrau was stopped by Abbas’ rough, furious hands. Hestood still. Spittle gathered at the edges of Abbas’ mouth as he stared at his brother, saying, “Where the hell did he go? Didn’t you notice?”
    “No.”
    “Did he beat you badly? What did he use?”
    “His belt. His feet. His fists. He just beat me!”
    “A lot?”
    Abrau didn’t answer. Abbas lifted the bundle of corkwood off of his brother’s shoulders and set it alongside his own bundle. He sat and told his brother to also sit down. Abrau dragged himself over to the wall but didn’t sit down. He leaned standing against the wall and flexed his hands.
    Abbas squatted on his feet. He scraped the earth with his broken root-cutter, swore a storm of insults directed at Salar Abdullah.
    “That bully! Some day I’ll settle up with him right. Just because of a bit of land and his thirty, forty sheep he thinks he’s someone. His head’s so big he can’t even fit into his clothes. Even if I only have one day to live, I’ll make him pay. I’ll cut his ankle tendons!”
    Abrau listened to what Abbas was saying, but didn’t believe a word of it. His tongue was always braver than his actions. He’d puff his chest and open his mouth. What a liar! They were only lies. He’d stand up and act angry, but he’d never deliver when it counted. He always looked out for himself first. Even now, Abrau couldn’t understand why he was telling him all of this. Was his motivation to win over his brother’s feelings? Did he want to make up for the fight with a few meaningless words? What was it?
    Abbas spoke up again. “You … Wouldn’t you be