The Shipwrecked Read Online Free Page B

Mother and I got dressed and headed for his residence. Nobody answered the door, although we could hear someone inside and see a pair of eyes watching us from behind a curtain in a window. Embarrassed and humiliated, we turned back. In the alleywe ran into Morteza the gardener, who turned his head and did not acknowledge us.
    We were alone and helpless in a cold and spiritless house. During the power outages at night, we sat around the oil lamp and held our breath in fear anytime there was a knock on the door. The younger ones in the family were planning to leave, heading out for Europe, but were concerned about the older folks who would not hear of leaving, nor could they be left behind to fend for themselves. Grandparents, though decrepit and handicapped, had no intention of dying anytime soon. Parents, younger but unwilling to migrate and change their lifestyle, dreaded loneliness, revolution, and war. Uncle Colonel was already on the lam, and his mother could not sleep at night, fearing imminent famine and looting. Auntie Malak was afraid of the Afghan wetbacks and was sure they would cut her head off. She would pass a trembling finger across her double-chinned throat, as if feeling the sharpness of the knife in her plump flesh. She would moan in agony of fear. My physician uncle, surpassing all in wisdom, got himself a pair of grown German shepherds (which immediately proceeded to bite Mother on the thigh and my aunt on the ankle), installed several alarms and an early warning system, and hired a security guard to watch him and the house.
    Mother was hurt mostly by Hassan Agha’s desertion. She never mentioned his name but could not forget him either. She insisted on hiring a new servant mostlyto assuage her wounded pride. But how could we bring a stranger into the house? How would we trust a stranger in this day and age? I was planning to leave, and war was about to break out. I had to find a trustworthy person to care for Mother. Mohammad Agha, the neighborhood carpenter, had a reputation for being a solid and decent man. We had known him for twenty years and had learned to count on him. He was different from the others. I broached the matter with him when he was in the house changing the locks. I told him I was looking for a smart and trustworthy person to look after my mother, and the reason I was talking to him was that my brother the engineer trusted his judgment and had good things to say about him. I was almost certain he would not be interested, finding excuses to deflect the rapprochement. Surprisingly though, he jumped at the suggestion. “With pleasure,” he said, as he put down his saw. “I am beholden to your family and the engineer. His wish is my command.”
    I could not believe it. People promise things but never carry through. I looked at him doubtfully. “Do you know someone trustworthy?” I asked. “I mean, like yourself?”
    â€œDo you think I would recommend an unsuitable person to the service of the Grand Lady?” he said, somewhat miffed. “These days,” he continued, “one is suspicious of one’s own shadow. I had heard about Hassan Agha and was embarrassed by his behavior. Sincerely, I could not look the engineer in the eye. What a world this has turned out to be! Even a dog does not recognize his master. Butwe are obligated to you and the Grand Lady’s kindnesses. Believe me, my mother blesses the engineer every night at prayer. If she finds out that the Grand Lady needs help, she would volunteer herself.”
    I thought he was buttering me up. Mohammad Agha, an observant man, read the look of skepticism on my face and took up the issue directly. “I will go right now to my aunt’s house,” he said resolutely, “and, with her permission, fetch her daughter to attend the pleasure of the Grand Lady.”
    This was ideal, exactly the person we had in mind. It did not matter whether she could cook, sew, or keep house. The