Shadow Play by Barbara Ismail Page B

leaned forward toward Maryam. “I told him, ‘I’m watching you now.’ I said, ‘You’d better straighten up if you know what’s good for you. How can you treat my daughter that way?’ He didn’t have much to say for himself. Apologizing all over the place. Said he didn’t know what came over him. Didn’t know why he’d done such a thing.”
    Ali gave a short, mirthless bark of laughter. “I know why.”
    A forbidding look from both his parents quieted him. “He didapologise,” Azizah added. “Though I was so disappointed in him. What good is an apology when he just married someone without thinking like that? I mean, what does that say about him?” She shook her head regretfully.
    â€œIt says he’s a fool,” Ramli interjected. “It says he doesn’t think at all. It says he hangs out with all kinds of women and doesn’t realize what’s going to come of it.”
    â€œYes, yes,” his wife hurried to stop him. This was clearly a well-trodden road for them in the past few days. He would not be hushed.
    â€œÂ Â Â â€œYou know. Kak,” Ramli took a deep drag on his cigarette and fixed her with an intense stare, “I’ve known Ghani since he was born. We both have; our families are from this kampong and we grew up with his parents.” His wife nodded.
    â€œHe was a good-looking kid, a nice boy always playing the drums and wanting to play with Dollah Baju Hijau, the famous dalang. He started travelling with him when he was still little. So cute, right?” He looked at his wife, who nodded once more. “Always a sweet kid, but a little girl-crazy. I thought that would stop once he got married, had children. You know, it often does.” They all nodded.
    â€œAnd it did, really, for years. He and Aisha were happy together, she always liked Wayang Siam , and she’d go and watch him. She was really proud of him, I could tell.” He smiled briefly. “But this! I tell you, Kak , I was knocked over. I couldn’t believe it! I felt as though I didn’t know anything about him. I’m not naïve about the world, you know. I know what happens. But I didn’t see it coming with Ghani.”
    He pulled thoughtfully on his cigarette, tapping the ashes through a small gap in the porch flooring. “I have four daughters,” he told Maryam and Rubiah. “How do you think I felt to hear this from myoldest? Well …” He nodded, looking over at Ali slumped in his chair, “I wouldn’t want to hear one of my sons did it either, you know. I think it’s wrong, it’s selfish.” He frowned. “But …” He paused for a moment, “I don’t think I’d want to kill him. A son-in-law …” He shrugged ruefully. “ Rambut sama hitam, hati lain-lain: all our hair is black, but our hearts are all different.”
    Maryam nervously approached her next question. “Did Aisha go to see him a lot?”
    â€œNot so much since the kids were born. It’s difficult. Sometimes, though, she’d have one of her sisters go and stay with the kids and she’d go over with her brother to see him. She liked watching it.” Her father took a sip of coffee and waved his hand at them, inviting them to drink.
    â€œDid she go this week?”
    He looked hard at her. Aisha’s mother twisted her hands in her lap and looked down at them. “ Ya , she went the next night, I think; I don’t remember when exactly.” Maryam did not believe that. “Her brother took her. She went to see him since they made up.”
    He’d told her only because he thought someone else would, and then it would seem even worse. Surely, if Aisha were there, the musicians – and Dollah himself – would have seen her. This was a much smarter way to deal with it: Maryam had to give Ramli credit for it.
    She nodded politely. “Did you