Black Light: A Novel by Galway Kinnell & Robert Hass

Author:Galway Kinnell & Robert Hass [Kinnell, Galway & Hass, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Literary, United States, Contemporary Fiction
ISBN: 9781619026599
Amazon: B011H52V6C
Publisher: Counterpoint
Published: 2015-10-02T00:00:00+00:00

chapter fifteen

“Murdered as he merited, if I may say so,” an official-sounding voice was saying. “And with that dog’s son of a carpet-repairer’s big carpet shears sticking right out of his chest . . .”

“Quarreling,” another voice was saying, “unless I’m much mistaken. The one was as evil-tempered as the other . . .”

In the darkness Jamshid felt shock and anger. Would the widow believe that he himself had killed Ali?

“A murderer the like of whom hasn’t been seen in this country for a generation . . .”

“Bloodthirsty as a lion. Cunning as a Zoroastrian. Strong as a strength-house champion. He had to be, to manage to kill, begging your pardon, that vicious old man . . .”

The voices moved out of earshot. Nearly in tears of frustration and anger, Jamshid lay back on the bed to await the widow’s return. Would she betray him? But the minutes passed, and the police did not burst in. Or was she reserving the delights of revenge for herself? They would pay the thousand tomans for him dead just as well as for him alive.

There was a sudden moment of light in the room, as the door opened and closed.

“Widow,” Jamshid said, “is that you?”

“It is,” came back her expressionless voice.

“Widow,” he said, “I beg you get a candle, I hate the darkness.”

After a few minutes she returned with a sputtering candle. She came over to him holding it in both hands. As the flame wavered it made a dark flashing across her face.

“Listen,” Jamshid said, sitting up. “They lie. Ali was killed by five dog’s sons of Yazdis. I . . .” He stopped short. A look of anger had crossed the widow’s face.

She put down the candle and took Jamshid’s hand. “I am angry with you for thinking I would believe the police,” she said. The chaddor had slipped off; her entire face and her hair were visible. The flame of the candle swayed again and black shadows moved in her features. She smiled at him. His head was clear. He saw her in a reality beyond the reach of opium. On the little bed, in the light of the candle, they made love.

When they came into the garden, it was evening. They sat by the pool and ate a meal of rice, fruit and Shirazi wine.

“So long as they think you killed Ali,” she told him, “they will not look for you here. You will be safe. I wish you to stay, if you would like.”

“I would like to,” said Jamshid. He began to foresee what a new life might be like. It even seemed possible he could assume another name, learn another trade, grow fat and unrecognizable. He could mail money to his daughter, perhaps one day send for her . . .

The night was warm, one of the last of the true summer nights. There were many stars. In bed they lay close together and they kissed. As he slid his body on top of hers he was aware, for a moment, of the dark ragged trees all around them.

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