Page 64 of Bought By the Green Man

For several seconds I can hear every small noise in the room: the shutter against its stop, water falling beyond the window, my boot scraping the floor as I draw it under the chair.

They don’t want the money.

I knew Asha had said that. I’d been waiting for the first urgent expense to change her mind.

You don’t have to pay us to keep your room, she writes. Your blankets are upstairs. Tovi put your good cup on the shelf so I’d stop using it.

I cover the line with my thumb. My good cup has a chip beneath the handle. I bought it because no one else wanted it and the glaze was the exact blue of our shutters.

I’d forgotten to pack it.

Asha does still use it, Tovi has added in the margin.

Below that, in her writing: He can buy me another.

I press the letter against my mouth and breathe until I can read the rest.

I’m glad you like Daurek. I still want to meet him. I’m also still angry about the market.

You keep telling me the stall is safe. I know it is. I open it every morning.

We could have lost it, Vai. It would have been awful. We would have shouted and cried and found something else. Perhaps you would still have chosen the market. You should have let us tell you what we were willing to lose before you decided for all three of us.

I read that paragraph again, hunting for the part I can answer with the paid loan.

There isn’t one.

Come and see us when you can. If you want your old room, say so. If you want to visit and go back to him, tell me that. I want to know what you’re hoping for, even if I have to get used to it.

Love,

Asha

I put the letter down very carefully. Then I bend over it and cry.

Daurek knocks while I’m washing my face. I’ve spilled half the water onto the floor and used the dry end of the cloth already.

“Come in.”