Then one of the women told him he was in the way there. He apologized and disappeared into his study.
That afternoon, the men went to a hall in Karteh Seh that Babi had rented for the fatiha.
The women came to the house. Laila took her spot beside Mammy,
next to the living room entrance where it was customary for the family of the deceased to sit.
Mourners removed their shoes at the door, nodded at acquaintances as they crossed the room, and sat on folding chairs arranged along the walls.
Laila saw Wajma, the elderly midwife who had delivered her. She saw Tariq's mother too, wearing a black scarf over the wig.
She gave Laila a nod and a slow, sad, close-lipped smile. From a cassette player, a man's nasal voice chanted verses from the Koran.
In between, the women sighed and shifted and sniffled. There were muted coughs, murmurs,
and, periodically, someone let out a theatrical, sorrow-drenched sob.
Rasheed's wife, Mariam, came in. She was wearing a black hijab. Strands of her hair strayed from it onto her brow.
She took a seat along the wall across from Laila. Next to Laila, Mammy kept rocking back and forth.
Laila drew Mammy's hand into her lap and cradled it with both of hers, but Mammy did not seem to notice.
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