The Sand Fish by Maha Gargash Page A

Using the silver thread, she embroidered the front with subtle loops of foliage. She streaked the petals and leaves with the full-raised stitch and filled them with the lace-web stitch. She lined the cuffs in silver piping and pierced so many delicate stars into the rest of the thoub that it looked like a fiery night sky.
    Then she began working on the ankle bands of the serwal that was to go under it. Cashews: that’s the motif she’d decided to embroider on the sun-yellow fabric. Circling the bands, leaf green cashews in the background set off the brighter lime green cashews in the foreground.
    Noora curled the outline of a cashew and looked down at the terraces. There he was, dwarfing the other men he was working with, looking as princely as can be. Soon she would be receiving her own bridal gifts.
    “I want to marry you.” That’s what he had said. Such small words, but what important words.
    With their newly defined futures, Rashid had grown bolder in their meetings, often holding her hand and stroking her palm. She liked the touch of his rough thumb. It made her feel protected. Did he feel her fingers wilt when he held her hand?
    One time, he had teased a strand of hair that had escaped both plait and shayla . Her daring had surprised her as she had closed her eyes and plumped her lips in little tremors, waiting for that same rough thumb to sneak down and calm the quiver of her mouth’s desire.
    Moza peeped through the doorway. “ Masha’ Allah , it’s looking very beautiful—so clean and neat,” she said, patting Noora’s shoulders with approval. “And your face. How it glows. Are you happy staying with me?”
    “I am,” said Noora. She wanted to drop a hint of the real reason for her elation, how it seeped into her face and brought the pink to her cheeks. But Rashid had instructed her not to tell anyone until he spoke to Sager and asked for her hand formally.
    Soon, Noora thought, happily counting the row of cashews she had just finished.
     
    Noora hopped over the familiar plain under a still, white sky. Rain was coming, but even that could not keep her away from the cave. With Rashid’s proposal, she felt their meetings now held the legitimacy they had lacked. She belonged to him, and it was only a matter of time before she could make it public.
    It wasn’t until they were sitting side by side, holding hands at the edge of the water, that a niggling insecurity surfaced asshe remembered Zobaida. What if Sager refused to give his consent?
    “Soon, you’ll be talking to Sager,” she began, and squeezed Rashid’s hand, hoping he would connect with her thoughts.
    “Yes,” he said. His thumb felt rougher than usual as he began to stroke her palm.
    “But what is your plan? How are you going to ask him?”
    “I know how to talk to Sager. He’s my friend.”
    She gripped his hand harder. “And what if he doesn’t agree? Then what?”
    “Why wouldn’t he agree?”
    “Well, he’s a funny boy, my brother. Sometimes, he lets other people influence his mind.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he wants me to stay with them.”
    “To do what? Grow old and ugly, and die alone?”
    “I don’t know.” She sensed he was not comfortable with the subject and decided to change it. Smiling, she looked up at his face and said, “Our first will be a boy. We’ll call him Salem. Salem Bin-Rashid Bin…What?”
    “Same as my name, of course.”
    “And that is?”
    “Rashid Bin-Abdullah, you silly girl.”
    “That’s your father’s name. What about your family?”
    “Why are you so bothered about my family? I will be your family.” He sounded impatient.
    Every time she wanted to talk about their future, he acted defensive. “And where will we live? At Maazoolah?”
    “No, we’ll live in the desert.”
    She looked at him agape.
    “In a tent, and we’ll move from place to place. And we’ll bring up camels, too. And that’s not all…” A snicker crept uphis throat before he could