Mariam
“Who’s there?”
sits up in bed, clutching her woven coverlet around her. She had been sleeping very lightly, her rest interrupted by the loud rumbling of thunder and intermittent cracks of lightning. When she was younger, she had loved storms, loved standing atop the walls of the Sault with Lin, watching the clouds gather at the horizon, the wind driving them across the sea toward the city like an advancing army. The shadows they cast on the ocean, darkening the waves from blue to black, whipping them into peaks topped with frothy silver.
Now it is different. Sleeping is difficult regardless as she tosses and turns, trying to find the least painful position, the one where it is easiest to breathe. Often she dreams that a black cat has come into her room and curled up on her chest, watching her with unblinking gold eyes as she struggles for breath beneath its weight. The thunder is an irritant now, not a reminder of the glorious power of the sky but an interruption of her precious sleep.
Now, as her eyes adjust to the darkness, she recognizes the source of the rustling that has woken her.
“Lin,” she whispers. She draws aside the curtain covering the window beside her bed. The storm has cleared, and moonlight floods the room. She can see her friend clearly. She stands with clasped hands just inside the doorway of ’s room. She is drenched, her silk dress heavy with rainwater, her hair hanging down her back in bedraggled tails. What happened? wants to demand. Lin had been meant to dance on stars all night, to return to the Sault with a breathless account of glamour and wonders.
But as looks at Lin, the question dies on her tongue. Lin, the most stubborn, determined person knows, looks as if she can barely keep all the pieces of herself together.
puts her arms out. “Come here,” she says, and Lin crawls gratefully onto the bed beside her. She is wet and cold, but holds her, just as she held her all those years ago when she was an orphaned child whose grandfather had not wanted her.
“Did he hurt you?” whispers. “Did he hurt you, khum lōq ?”
“No. But I’m such a fool, ,” Lin whispers. “Such a fool.”
“Hush.” strokes Lin’s damp hair, whispering, “Hush, my little sister, my little heart,” while outside the window, the rain continues to fall in soft sheets, whispering like silk against the panes.