MadamJbarly one morning the next spring, of 1993, Mariam stood bythe living-room window and watched Rasheed escort the girlout of the house. The girl was tottering¹ forward, bent³ at thewaist, one arm draped protectively across the taut⁴ drum of herbelly, the shape of which was visible through her burqa.
Rasheed, anxious and overly attentive⁵, was holding her elbow,directing her across the yard like a traffic policeman. He madeaWait here gesture, rushed to the front gate, then motioned forthe girl to come forward, one foot propping⁶ the gate open.
When she reached him, he took her by the hand, helped herthrough the gate. Mariam could almost hear him say,"Watchyour step, now, my flower, my gul."They came back early the next evening.
Mariam saw Rasheed enter the yard first. He let the gate goprematurely, and it almost hit the girl on the face. He crossedthe yard in a few, quick steps. Mariam detected a shadow onhis face, a darkness underlying⁷ the coppery light of dusk. Inthe house, he took off his coat, threw it on the couch.
Brushing past Mariam, he said in a brusque voice, "I'm hungry.
Get supper ready."The front door to the house opened. From the hallway,Mariam saw the girl, a swaddled bundle in the hook of her leftarm. She had one foot outside, the other inside, against thedoor, to prevent it from springing shut. She was stooped overand was grunting⁹, trying to reach for the paper bag ofbelongings that she had put down in order to open the door.
Herface was grimacing¹⁰ with effort. She looked up and sawMariam.
Mariam turned around and went to the kitchen to warmRasheed'smeal.
* * *"Irs like someone is ramming¹¹ a

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