Every time Tony looked out, the women would pull their chadors over their faces. After a while Tony stopped looking out. He had his lunch alone inside while my father and another male relative went into Darius’s room and I stayed with the women outside. In a way that suited Tony since it gave him maximum time to work but I could not help feeling bad that he had been exiled by the women.

The lunch was lavish—different stews and rices, pickles, salads, various breads, and drinks—partly for Tony’s sake since it was our last day.

“I’ve become so clumsy. I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I think I’m hurrying too much,” Simin said, beginning to suck her right forefinger. She had pricked it with the needle.

“You’re doing a good job.” I looked with admiration at the colorful, circular designs she had made on the fabric. “I was never good with my hands.”

“No, you used to spend your time reading. I see your husband is the same way.” She leaned over and whispered, “He’s very handsome, better-looking than in his picture. He’s very different from us though, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know. That’s hard to say.”

“I shouldn’t have said that, I guess.”

She stared at the pillowcase. “Oh, no, I made a mistake.” She pulled the thread out of the needle and began to undo some of the stitches. “I wish you had seen some of the things I bought with the money you gave to me. That was so kind of you.” There was still no trace of embarrassment in her voice. “I bought a comforter, sheets, pillows, a whole set of bedding practically.”

A smile came into her anxious face as her hands fluttered over the pillowcase. Her problems and pleasures suddenly seemed so real and substantial. There she sat, thin, pale, looking ten years older than her age, her breasts almost flat under her badly-cut dress, and yet so rooted in her way of life. Every day she woke to her children growing a bit, and tried to cope with their problems and little triumphs as well as her own. There were few moments of monotony in her days. She did not look at things from behind a glass screen, as I felt I did at times, but directly, receiving their full impact.

“Look, I bought a present for you.” She reached in her pocketbook and took out a little green box.

I took the box and opened it. There was a leather pendant inside with a picture of a dancing woman painted on it.

“This is lovely,” I said, putting it on. It was a perfect match for the green shirt I was wearing. “Thanks.”

“It’s just a memento,” she said. Then abruptly she began to put her embroidery away in a bag and got up. “I think I’d better get going. It’s late.”

“How are you going back?”

“By bus.”

“I’ll walk you to it.”

We went outside together. A cool breeze blew through the narrow street. A young man was rolling a tire ahead of him. A little girl walked very straight, balancing an oil lamp on her head.