person who the bottle points to...’
Armineh said, ‘...any command he feels like.’
‘Neat, huh?’ the two of them chimed together.
I let out my breath and laughed. ‘As long as the commands are not dangerous.’ How innocent children are, I thought.
Artoush and Emile were talking in the living room. Mrs. Simonian was clearing the dinner table – I was surprised she hadn’t set her son the task. I helped. As we went back and forth
from the dining room to the kitchen, she hitched up her dress and talked on and on. ‘I had attendants and servants from birth. Now I am forced to do the work myself. India, with all its
problems, had an abundance of maids and servants. In my father’s house in Julfa we had all the servants you could want...some families served for several generations in our house.’ The
pearl necklace kept catching on the dishes and the door handle. ‘When we were in Masjed-Soleiman I brought a girl servant from Julfa. She was not quite right in the head. I informed her
family, and they came to get her. I believe she wound up in Namagerd, though you probably don’t know and don’t care where Namagerd is. Can you recommend a good maid here?’
I was about to admit that I do in fact know where Namagerd is, but held my tongue. I thought of Ashkhen, who came round to our place to help out with the housework twice a week, and to Alice and
Mother’s house once a week. Ashkhen’s husband was paralyzed after a back operation and received a pittance of a pension from the Oil Company. Her son had just returned from military
service and was out of work, or as Ashkhen put it, ‘His job is to hang around the Kuwaiti Bazaar dawn to dusk, stroll up and down along the Shatt al-Arab, smoke two or three packs a day, and
chomp on sunflower seeds. He supposes his poor mother, namely me, can pluck money from the trees.’ This could work out to their advantage – help for my neighbor and a little extra
income for Ashkhen.
Once the table was cleared, I sat down opposite Emile and Artoush, and Mrs. Simonian retook her earlier seat, saying, ‘We don’t take tea and fruit after our dinner. It inhibits
digestion.’ Then she asked for the address of the Adib Grocery near our house and jotted down the phone number of the children’s piano teacher. ‘I’ve sent Emily to piano
lessons since she was seven. She must continue. Of course, I was playing the piano from the age of five.’ I almost expected her to say, ‘I was performing on the piano.’
Emile was sitting with one leg crossed. He was wearing black patent-leather shoes and black socks. Artoush had one leg crossed as well. His shoes were black and his socks brown. That was my
fault. I forgot to lay out his black socks next to his shoes.
I was looking for an opportunity to catch Artoush’s eye and signal to him it was time to say goodnight when Armen rushed into the room. His face was red and he could not stop coughing. I
leapt to my feet.
‘What happened?’
Between coughs he croaked, ‘Water!’
Emile jumped up. Artoush also stood up. Mrs. Simonian didn’t budge.
I took Armen to the kitchen and poured him some water. ‘Did something get stuck in your throat?’
His long eyelashes were matted with tears. He asked for more water, coughed some more, drank again, finally regained his composure and said without looking at me, ‘I don’t know what
made me start coughing all of a sudden,’ and walked out of the kitchen.
Artoush had called the twins and was thanking Mrs. Simonian and saying goodbye. Emily, eyes downcast, was twirling the white ribbon around her finger. Was it just me, or was there a half-smile
on her face?
As I was shaking hands with Mrs. Simonian and her son, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Armen go over to the twins and whisper in their ear. Armineh tugged at my skirt. ‘The movies
tomorrow!’
I turned to Emile. ‘Would it be alright for Emily to go to the movies with the children tomorrow?’
Emile
Armineh said, ‘...any command he feels like.’
‘Neat, huh?’ the two of them chimed together.
I let out my breath and laughed. ‘As long as the commands are not dangerous.’ How innocent children are, I thought.
Artoush and Emile were talking in the living room. Mrs. Simonian was clearing the dinner table – I was surprised she hadn’t set her son the task. I helped. As we went back and forth
from the dining room to the kitchen, she hitched up her dress and talked on and on. ‘I had attendants and servants from birth. Now I am forced to do the work myself. India, with all its
problems, had an abundance of maids and servants. In my father’s house in Julfa we had all the servants you could want...some families served for several generations in our house.’ The
pearl necklace kept catching on the dishes and the door handle. ‘When we were in Masjed-Soleiman I brought a girl servant from Julfa. She was not quite right in the head. I informed her
family, and they came to get her. I believe she wound up in Namagerd, though you probably don’t know and don’t care where Namagerd is. Can you recommend a good maid here?’
I was about to admit that I do in fact know where Namagerd is, but held my tongue. I thought of Ashkhen, who came round to our place to help out with the housework twice a week, and to Alice and
Mother’s house once a week. Ashkhen’s husband was paralyzed after a back operation and received a pittance of a pension from the Oil Company. Her son had just returned from military
service and was out of work, or as Ashkhen put it, ‘His job is to hang around the Kuwaiti Bazaar dawn to dusk, stroll up and down along the Shatt al-Arab, smoke two or three packs a day, and
chomp on sunflower seeds. He supposes his poor mother, namely me, can pluck money from the trees.’ This could work out to their advantage – help for my neighbor and a little extra
income for Ashkhen.
Once the table was cleared, I sat down opposite Emile and Artoush, and Mrs. Simonian retook her earlier seat, saying, ‘We don’t take tea and fruit after our dinner. It inhibits
digestion.’ Then she asked for the address of the Adib Grocery near our house and jotted down the phone number of the children’s piano teacher. ‘I’ve sent Emily to piano
lessons since she was seven. She must continue. Of course, I was playing the piano from the age of five.’ I almost expected her to say, ‘I was performing on the piano.’
Emile was sitting with one leg crossed. He was wearing black patent-leather shoes and black socks. Artoush had one leg crossed as well. His shoes were black and his socks brown. That was my
fault. I forgot to lay out his black socks next to his shoes.
I was looking for an opportunity to catch Artoush’s eye and signal to him it was time to say goodnight when Armen rushed into the room. His face was red and he could not stop coughing. I
leapt to my feet.
‘What happened?’
Between coughs he croaked, ‘Water!’
Emile jumped up. Artoush also stood up. Mrs. Simonian didn’t budge.
I took Armen to the kitchen and poured him some water. ‘Did something get stuck in your throat?’
His long eyelashes were matted with tears. He asked for more water, coughed some more, drank again, finally regained his composure and said without looking at me, ‘I don’t know what
made me start coughing all of a sudden,’ and walked out of the kitchen.
Artoush had called the twins and was thanking Mrs. Simonian and saying goodbye. Emily, eyes downcast, was twirling the white ribbon around her finger. Was it just me, or was there a half-smile
on her face?
As I was shaking hands with Mrs. Simonian and her son, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Armen go over to the twins and whisper in their ear. Armineh tugged at my skirt. ‘The movies
tomorrow!’
I turned to Emile. ‘Would it be alright for Emily to go to the movies with the children tomorrow?’
Emile
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