“I can’t wear this,” my aunt said, pushing the dress away. “You shouldn’t wear that nightgown either, for that matter. They have been made and handled by the infidel.”

“We can wash them and then wear them,” Simin suggested.

“My sister has always been too extreme,” my uncle said. He had been quiet for the last few moments and his cheeks were flushed.

“I’m on my way to my grave. I have to be careful—I can’t make blunders any more.”

Darius came into the room. There was a commotion as everyone greeted him. He sat down next to my uncle.

“Maybe you can get your husband to come over too and live here,” Simin said to me.

“He can’t,” I said. “There’s nothing here for him to do.”

“What, him? She isn’t married to him,” my father said with sudden energy. The exertion made him cough for a long time.

“She isn’t married to him?” Simin asked, puzzled.

“They have no aghounds there,” Ziba said.

My aunt and Simin focused their eyes on me with curiosity.

“They have other things there, I’m sure,” Simin said, smiling at me.

“They had no religious wedding at all,” my father said. “Right? A clerk wrote something and you signed it.”

“We have to do something about that,” Darius said menacingly.

“Do we have to talk about these things?” I felt a bitterness in the back of my mouth, a strong urge to get up and leave.

My aunt closed her eyes and shook her head several times as if she could not bear the intensity of the information.

Ziba got up and said, “I’m going to get some lunch for us,” and my aunts arose to help her. They left the room and came back with dishes, silverware, and a cloth. They spread the cloth on the floor and arranged the dishes on it. They went back and forth, bringing in saffron rice, soup, stews, pickles …. They insisted that I should not help since I was a guest.

We all sat around the cloth to eat, except for my uncle who went towards the adjacent room—the link to the courtyard. His body swung as he walked, his hands dangled at his sides. I felt alarm as I watched him without quite knowing why. After a moment I got up and went into the other room and saw my uncle disappearing into the courtyard. The room was very quiet and I could hear the ticking of a clock. My pocketbook which I had hung on a hook swayed slightly. Its top was open. I reached for it and fumbled through it. My wallet was gone.

My father came in. I must have looked strange. He asked immediately, “Is something wrong?”

“My wallet.”

“I thought he might have done it again.” He went pale. “You musn’t let anyone know about it. I’ve always tried to save his face. He takes everything he can get hold of.”

My uncle came to the doorway. My eyes locked with his for an instant in a state of shock—both of us were stunned.