Missing Soluch by Mahmoud Dowlatabadi Page B

belt and rose.
    “So, are you going to talk, or do I need to make you?”
    Hajer slid to the corner of the room. Abbas pursued her, stood before her, and cracked his belt against the floor.
    “Get up! Start talking! Or do you want me to make you black-and-blue with this belt?”
    Hajer shut her eyes and lifted her small hands to protect her face, still crying. Abbas bellowed, “I swear to Imam Abbas I’ll make you sorry! Have some mercy on your own skin and bones and start speaking!”
    Hajer just kept crying. She was crying from her heart. Not only from fear, but from everything. Everything she’d seen and heard weighed upon her heart, and since she had no other way of relieving herself, she could only cry and cry. And perhaps if Abbas hadn’t also jumped on her, she would have still had plenty to cry about. But now that Abbas had set into her, her tears flowed from her heart. It was like a boil ready to be lanced, as if it were ready to burst. She had to cry, so as to loosen the knot around her heart. Even if she did not want to, she had to. These tears were ready to flow. These tears only made Abbas angrier, these tears and her locked lips. And the suspicion that Hajer was hiding something beneath her tears only made him angrier. He began to lose control. Perhaps he was looking for an excuse as well. He raised the belt above his head and brought it down. Hajer flickered like a lantern. Abbas showed no mercy. He brought it down again. And again.
    The sound of the belt falling on Hajer’s body brought Abrau around. He opened his eyes with difficulty and saw his sister backed into a corner while Abbas’ merciless blows fell upon her. He leapt up, throwing aside the blanket. He did it unselfconsciously. Still hot with fever. From behind, he was able to throw his hands around Abbas’ throat and pull him back. They both fell over backward. Hajer ran. She escaped through thedoor shrieking. But she didn’t go far. A moment later, she returned to watch her brothers grappling from the doorway. Like a mongoose and a snake. They twisted and struggled in the dust. Hajer didn’t dare come closer. With one movement, Abbas was able to release himself from Abrau’s grip and to position himself on his chest. Now he placed his hands around Abrau’s throat.
    “So, you little rat, should I suffocate you? You’re too weak to even stand on your feet, so why are you throwing yourself into the arena? Now go get lost!”
    Abbas rose from Abrau’s chest, threw a blanket over him, and then turned toward Hajer. She ran and reached the alley. She screamed and ran toward the house of Ali Genav’s mother. Abbas decided not to start a commotion in the night. He turned back and sat in the doorway.
    Now it was Abrau who had disappeared. He wasn’t to be found anywhere. Maybe he had slid away, ashamed of himself. That is what Abbas presumed. He wanted to find him to explain why he hadn’t whipped Hajer unjustifiably.
    He said, “Mother and daughter, they’re working together. Just when our attention was elsewhere, they went and hid the copper somewhere. Do you see? Are you listening? They took four pieces of good copper work and have lost them somewhere. Somewhere only they know. Just themselves! The little one is working with Mama. She won’t open her lips for a second. But you …”
    Abrau didn’t respond. He didn’t have the heart. He didn’t want to show his face. He hid himself under a blanket. But Abbas was worked up. He couldn’t let go. He rose, stuck hishead outside the door, and shouted, “Hey … if you don’t want me to give you a beating, come back to the house yourself. Get up and come back. I won’t do anything … Where the hell are you? Hey … I’m speaking to you. Come on, where are you?”
    There was no reply from Hajer. Abbas left the house. He investigated the bread oven and the stables. Hajer was nowhere. He went to the alley. The alley was dark. She was like a cricket, lost in the night; she could