mother will never know

Mother will never know where she has been. Mariam the good girl. She skips homeward, twirling her long pleated skirt. The wind blows through her untidy curls and makes them unruly. Mariam feels like someone just breathed new life into her. Her lips tingle, her skin glows and her heart races.

Mother must never know where she has been. She is probably asleep. The sun exhausts her. It drains her of her life’s pulse, she says. Tha´s why they all wake up so early during the hot season. They have to do the chores before the sun comes up. Working in pairs, Mariam and her three sisters mop the house and polish the floor. They dust the seats and sweep the carpet.  They fetch water from the village well and wash the clothes. They clean and clean and clean. When the sun finally rises, the work is done and mother sits outside their house, beaming with pride and waving to the neighbors. Yes, mother is proud of her four daughters – Mariam most of all.

That is why she must never know that Mariam went to the river today. She watched and waited until it was quiet. Then she took the little note that Abdi had slipped her at the market. She read it again, just to be sure. She didn’t want to be wrong.

“Meet me at 2 pm, on the western point behind the human rock,” Mariam whispered. She imagined his silky voice whispering the same message in her ear. Her skin grew warm.

Mariam smiled. Abdi was nice to her. His grandfather owned a stall at the village market. Sometimes Mariam accompanied Mother to buy rice and dry beans from his stall. Abdi always slipped something into the basket. First, it was some spices, a blend of nutmeg, cinnamon and cardamom. Then it was a packet of boiled sweets, roasted cashew or macadamia nuts. Once, it was chocolate. And then there was the note.

“What is it?” she had asked.

“The best gift of all; better than all the sweets I can ever give you,” he had whispered.

Yes, of course Mariam had gone to the river to meet Abdi. He had a gift for her. Better than all the sweets he could ever give her.

Mother should never even guess at how fast she had run to the river. She had hitched her skirt up, all the way to her thighs, so that she could bound freely through the woods. Mother always says, “Good girls don’t run. They walk slowly. They don’t swing their hips too much. This could send the wrong message. Good girls would never expose their legs in public, let alone their thighs. This is a sight that is reserved for their husbands. Good girls do not go to the river to meet boys.” Oh how Mariam had run! How free she had felt! Mother’s good lessons had completely fled her head!

By the time she got to the western point behind the human rock, she was out of breath. Panting and thirsty.  No one was there. Abdi was not there. The closest thing to a person was the huge rock, with the shape of a torso, neck and giant head. The human rock.

“Hallo, are you there?” She had called out breathlessly and waited. Nothing.

“Come out, come out.” She had called out again. Nothing still. Where was he?

Mother would simply kill her if she knew that Mariam was waiting for a boy in the woods. She got down on her knees and scooped water from the stream with her cupped hands. She drank some and splashed the rest on her flushed face to cool off.

“I am as free as a bird,” she thought fleetingly. A twig snapped. Mariam turned. Abdi had arrived. He smiled. Her youthful heart took flight. He held out his hand, Mariam went to him. No, mother should never know that Abdi made her all hot and shaky inside.

Mariam stops twirling her skirt. She stops humming and pauses to mend her shaggy hair. She wipes the sweat off her face and takes a long breath.  The shop is open, so she goes in and buys a liter of soda and a packet of cakes. Mother has a sweet tooth. Mariam knows that sugar takes her mind off things.