Nasnet’s tears fell. I am sorry, she said to Saba. Maybe I shouldn’t cry but I can’t help it.

Saba smiled. Come on now then, give me a bath.

Sometimes you are like a man, so forcibly charming, Nasnet blurted out.

Saba didn’t deny the comparison. That’s what the midwife has told me since I was a little girl. She thinks it is an insult.

They laughed again before Nasnet said, Come darling, let me wash you. I need to get ready for work.

Do you hate the midwife? Saba asked.

Why would I? Nasnet said, now washing the soap out of Saba’s hair.

She gave away your secret, Saba said.

White froth rolled down her chest.

I didn’t choose for my job to be a secret, Nasnet said. It’s ironic, though. Society makes it so and then they try to oust you and ostracize you for the secret they have demanded and imposed in the first place.

Saba’s eyes met Nasnet’s. What, Nasnet said, you didn’t expect a prostitute to talk like this?

Saba smiled.

I love those dimples, Nasnet said, pinching Saba’s cheek.

After cleaning Saba’s back, Nasnet passed the soap to Saba. Here, you do the rest, she said, sitting on her bed.

Did you do that because of your job? Saba asked Nasnet, pointing to the three patterned lines made of small cone shapes tattooed across Nasnet’s neck.

No, I did this when I was seven. I saw the daughter of a rich landowner wearing a beautiful necklace, and asked my mother if I could have one too. My mother couldn’t afford it, but a friend of hers suggested a tattoo on my neck instead. For days, I refused to accept my mother’s proposal. I thought she didn’t love me if she wouldn’t even buy me a simple necklace. But my mother’s friend told me that the Queen of Sheba had a tattoo even though she could buy anything she wanted, so I finally accepted. Besides, I told myself then, a tattoo necklace would never break or get lost.

Nasnet paused and, craning her head backwards, she asked: Do you like it?

Saba nodded: It makes you look special. It goes well with the clothes you have.

Both laughed. Nasnet more so. Saba watched her laughter again, as if hoping to learn from it, and embrace it.

Saba stood, her feet still in the water, her shadow on the wall of Nasnet’s hut rising with her, the reflection of her nipples shifting with the flickering of the oil lamp. And when she was about to leave Nasnet’s hut, smelling of coconut cream, Nasnet hugged her. With their cheeks still touching, Saba whispered a thank you.

Saba, Nasnet said. You know this is a camp. People are generous with what they have in the hope they will get something they don’t. So if you want to borrow some privacy, I can lend you my hut. You can come any time.

Saba looked at the bed with the thick mattress and blue cover. She imagined the men in this bed, imagined Nasnet under them. Nasnet turned Saba’s head away. As if she could read her eyes, Nasnet said: Luckily, I don’t break easily. And I feel you are someone who doesn’t either.