The Pearl that Broke Its Shell Read Online Free PDF Page A

dragged her father’s body back to the house on a large cloth, stopping every few steps to adjust her grasp and to wipe away the tears that trickled down the right side of her face. The left side of her face remained stoic.
    She laid his body in the living room and sat at his side, repeating the four or five Qur’anic verses that her parents had taught her until the sun came up. In the morning, she began the ceremony she had performed too often in her short life. She undressed her father, careful to keep his private areas hidden beneath a rag. The ritual washing should have been done by a man but Shekiba had no one to call on. She would rather have invited Allah’s wrath into her home than turn to those vile people.
    She bathed him, turning away as she poured water onto his man parts and blindly wrapping his stiff body in a cloth, as she and her mother had done with her sister. She dragged him back outside and opened the earth one final time to complete her family’s interment. Shekiba chewed her lip and debated digging one more spot for herself, thinking there would be no one left to do so when her turn came. Too tired to do anything more, Shekiba said a few prayers and watched her father disappear under clods of earth—disappear like her sister, her brothers and her mother.
    She walked back to the hollow house and sat silently—afraid, angry and calm.
    Shekiba was alone.

CHAPTER 3

    “W e wouldn’t be the first. It’s been done before.”
    “You’re listening to that lunatic Shaima and that story about your precious grandmother.”
    “It wasn’t my grandmother. It was—”
    “I don’t care. All I know is that woman makes my head ache.”
    “Arif- jan, I think it would be wise for us to consider this. For everyone’s sake.”
    “And what good will come of it? You see everyone else who has done it? They all have to change back in a few years. It doesn’t help anything.”
    “But, Arif- jan, she could do things. She could go to the store. She could walk her sisters to school.”
    “Do what you want. I’m going out.”
    I listened carefully from the hallway, just a few feet from the bedroom we all shared. Our kitchen was behind the sitting room, a few pots and a gas burner. Our home was spacious, built in a time when my grandfather’s family had more. Now these walls were bare and cracking and looked more like those of our neighbors.
    When I heard Padar- jan strain to get up, I quickly tiptoed off, my bare toes silent on the carpet. When I was sure he was gone, I came back to the living room to find my mother lost in thought.
    “Madar- jan ?”
    “Eh? Oh. Yes, bachem . What is it?”
    “What were you and Padar- jan talking about?”
    She looked at me and bit her lip.
    “Sit down,” she said. I sat cross-legged in front of her, careful that the hem of my skirt reached over my knees and covered my calves. “You remember the story your khala Shaima told the other night?”
    “The one about our great-great-great-great…”
    “You’re worse than your father, sometimes. Yes, that one. I think it is time we change something for you. I think it would be best if we let you be a son to your father.”
    “A son?”
    “It’s simple and it’s done all the time, Rahima- jan . Just think how happy that would make him! And you could do so many things that your sisters wouldn’t be able to do.”
    She knew how to pique my interest. I cocked my head to the side and waited for her to go on.
    “We could change your clothes and we’ll give you a new name. You’ll be able to run to the store any time we need anything. You could go to school without worrying about the boys bothering you. You could play games. How does that sound?”
    It sounded like a dream to me! I thought of the neighbors’ sons. Jameel. Faheem. Bashir. My eyes widened at the thought of being able to kick a ball around in the street as they did.
    Madar- jan wasn’t thinking of the boys in the street. She was thinking of our empty