When the Moon Is Low by Nadia Hashimi Read Free Book Online Page A

Firooz’s daughter shared her mother’s comportment but was very different physically. She stood six inches taller and measured half her mother’s width. Heavy, penciled-in brows arched over kohl-rimmed eyes, and her bright fuchsia lipstick matched her dress perfectly. She almost looked pretty until I saw her smile politely at KokoGul. Even from my hidden view, her teeth looked jagged and unsightly. I felt my stomach reel at her smile, though I wasn’t sure why I had such a visceral response.
    I knew KokoGul well enough that I could imagine her sizing up Agha Firooz’s daughter and deciding how I would compare to her. Her eyes moved quickly, as did those of Agha Firooz’s wife, as she calculated what the family would think when they saw me. Far from stunning, I did have my mother’s fair, even skin and her dark hair. I knew KokoGul was already calculating the effects of Agha Firooz and Padar- jan joining forces. If my father helped Agha Firooz expand his textile commerce into new areas, both would surely reap the benefits. KokoGul was restless, her mind spending money she eagerly anticipated.
    “Fereiba- jan, please bring some tea in for our dear guests! You ladies must be parched, traveling in this weather. It’s been quite warm the last few days, hasn’t it?” KokoGul said with great poise.
    I made my way down the creaky steps and went to the kitchen. I arranged KokoGul’s china teacups and plates onto a silver tray and brought them into the parlor. My face burned as I felt all eyes on me. I kept my gaze on the tray, gripping the handles so tightly my knuckles blanched.
    “ Salaam, ” I said softly as I set a cup of tea before Agha Firooz’s wife.
    “ Wa-alaikum, dear girl,” she echoed with a greedy smile. I let my chador fall across my cheek, hiding my flushed face. Doing my best not to tremble, I placed the second cup in front of her daughter and then held the tray of biscuits out to them. Agha Firooz’s daughter grinned as she plucked two from the plate. Up close, her smile again sent shivers through my body, but this time I was conscious of why.
    She had the same gap-toothed grin as the lewd boy from the market.
    Had I not already set the teacups down, I’m sure they would have rattled right off the tray. I kept my head lowered and made a quick escape from the parlor. I could hear Agha Firooz’s wife casually suggesting to KokoGul that I join them for tea. KokoGul waved off the suggestion and began to extol my virtues. Najiba was in the kitchen gulping down a glass of water—ever neutral, ever oblivious to what was going on around her.
    “Najiba, can you stay here and listen out for Madar- jan ? Wait a few minutes and then refill their teacups, please. My head is spinning and I need to lie down.”
    Najiba looked at me as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Okay, Ferei,” she replied affectionately.
    I kissed her cheek and went out the back door of the kitchen, creeping up the stairs as noiselessly as I could.
    I leaned against the upstairs wall, my heart pounding. I prayed Agha Firooz’s emissaries would soon take their leave.

CHAPTER 6
    Fereiba
    COURTSHIP AND GIFTS LOST THEIR ROMANTIC APPEAL AS I WAS slapped with the reality of marriage. I could not imagine becoming part of Agha Firooz’s family. How could I tell Padar- jan how I felt? Through KokoGul’s oblique comments I learned that Padar- jan was exploring Agha Firooz’s business propositions. I couldn’t confess my worries to my sisters or my brother. I had much to hash out and no one to talk with.
    KokoGul eagerly anticipated a second call from Agha Firooz’s wife. A respectable courtship was a slow, deliberately coy dance between two families. KokoGul rehearsed for that call, her chance to feign surprise and hesitation. With me, she was especially lenient in the next few weeks. I was excused from many of my duties around the house, a pampering that made me feel more suspicious than grateful.
    “Fereiba- jan, do not bother