I cross my legs and stare at the cement wall of the backyard. I can’t stop thinking about the continuation of the wall, and the windows that only give off food aromas. What is the use of looking at the wall for so long? It is better to turn my chair. Sometimes even moving the chair a little bit makes you feel better.

At this moment, I hear a sound. The difference between this house and the previous ones is that the walls don’t transfer cold or dampness. They transmit sound. None of the walls are real. They are only a layer of plaster, storing sounds from other lives only to release it at the right moment. Here you don’t need to put your ear to the wall. Even from far away you can hear sounds, low and soft.

But this sound is not like any other sound from this life. It comes from another world, from that distant portion of the sky. It is like a heartbeat. It is not a tape recording. It is a live sound like a tambour. Someone is playing a tambour. This building and a tambour! The sound is getting stronger, louder than all the other sounds.

I grow fast, like an embryo that takes shape in a movie being fast forwarded. I grow and I am pulled away from the chair. The backyard has come to life. The walls have moved back. The sound of the tambour comes from the fourth-floor window. Moving my hands, I flounce and twirl, looking at the window that now looks different from all the others.

I close my eyes and listen to my own heartbeat. When I open my eyes, I see Shadi and Shahin standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at me with their mouths hanging open.

Chapter 3

3

Amir says, “I am selling the house.”

I don’t like surprise announcements. I always need to be prepared. I can’t do anything unexpectedly.

That is why I am always a little behind. I am late for weddings and funeral ceremonies. Maman says, “What is the use of henna after the wedding is over?” Amir says, “The person who ignores the warning signs has to digest everything all at once.” Now I have indigestion. I didn’t expect Amir’s announcement.

This is the first time he has talked about selling the house since we moved here. Selling means leaving, but we just bought this house—it hasn’t even been a year!

Everybody is in the parking lot. To help us get acquainted, the man who is going to be the building manager asks us to say if we are owners or renters. When it is my turn, I say, “Owner.” And I am surprised how sweet it tastes. I go upstairs and relish the taste like a piece of chocolate that fills your mouth with a burst of caramel. Owner! Oh Lord! I am an owner. An owner!