I get up and wash the dishes that are left from dinner. I shoo the mosquitoes out of the room and close the windows. Amir has fallen asleep with the story he has told himself. I pull a blanket over him and with my new obsession make sure the door and windows are locked. The air is cool, and here and there the windows of the houses across the street are lit. I put away Amir’s toothbrush, straighten out the kids’ covers, and take a second look at the kitchen. Everything is in its place; tidy and neat. I lie down only to realize that there is no use. There is no use shutting the doors and the windows. Insecurity has crept into the house like a filthy cat, and I know that even if I close my eyes, I’ll hear its evil snore in my dream.

Chapter 49

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I scream.

“Don’t I have the right to have anything private for myself in this house?”

Amir is quiet. The back of his neck has turned red and that’s a bad sign.

I holler again. Amir has read the letter that I wrote to Mahin, and is now waiting like a witness that the judge hasn’t summoned in yet.

To get him to talk, I scream at him like a sharp needle against a pimple.

He says, “Now I understand why I never liked your mother.”

I don’t know if I should fight him for reading the letter or for what he is thinking about my mother. I say, “You had no right to read my letter.”

“I had every right. Anything that concerns you in this house concerns me too.”

There is no arguing about this point. It’s an old argument that is repeated every now and then. I sometimes prefer privacy but he believes in sharing everything. I try hard to remember what I had written in my letter.

“She is being punished for it.”

I look at him, surprised. “Punished for what?”

“Punished for her cruelty, for being coldhearted. Now, watch how she’s going to die, a hundred times worse than that poor man.”

He goes to the fridge and says, “The poor thing.”

Again Amir has thrown a word into the air, and I have to find out who it belongs to. I repeat to myself, “Poor Maman, poor Amir, poor Father.” Like a dress, I hurriedly try the word on every person. I wonder who looks best in this dress.

Suddenly I wonder, “What if it belongs to me?”

Chapter 50

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