Rum Raisin 10: Scheherazade Lies
Title: Scheherazade Lies
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: FOTD (mussitate: To silently move the lips in simulation of audible speech), rum raisin 10 (guardian), butterscotch, cookie crumbs (expansion of this), rainbow sprinkles.
Word Count: 1325
Rating: G
Summary: Not every story is true.
Notes: A little elaboration on Joanna's childhood. There is every possibility that I've spelled Scheherazade wrong at least once. Please let me know if you spot a misspelling.
Mema was shouting downstairs.
Joanna tried hiding her head under her pillow, but it didn't work. She could still hear Mema shouting, and crying, and saying things in Arabic that Joanna didn't understand. She was glad she didn't. She didn't want to know.
She wished Mema would stop shouting, though. It made her hurt inside, a big sore ball pressed right in the middle of her chest.
"Joanna."
She pulled her pillow off her head and looked up at her older sister, who was sitting on the side of her bed and leaning over her, long hair falling down around her face in a night-black curtain. Deborah's dark eyes were wide and sad. "Joanna," she said, again. "How long have you been awake?"
"A while," she said, and reached up for her sister. Deborah reached down and gave her a hug. "Why is Mema shouting?"
Deborah's eyes got darker, and sadder. "Never mind that," she said, and hugged Joanna again. "Do you think you can go back to sleep?"
Joanna shook her head. "Uh-uh."
"All right." Deborah sat up and pushed her hair away from her face. "Do you want to hear a story, then?"
A story! Something else to listen to. Joanna sat up in bed and clasped her hands tight, excited. "Oh, yes please!"
Deborah smiled. It didn't look like a happy smile, but it was a smile. "All right. Let's go get Ruth and Nadia."
Joanna was about to object-- Ruth and Nadia were too young to listen to stories well, and she didn't want to share Deborah with them any more than she had to-- but then Mema let out a howling wail that rose and fell like a siren, and she shivered.
Ruth and Nadia couldn't sleep either, probably. Alan shared with Mema and Baba, but Ruth and Nadia were just old enough to have their own room, but much, much too little to understand that Mema wasn't crying 'cause of anything they did. Joanna wasn't old enough to know what, exactly, she was crying for, but she knew it wasn't anything she did. Ruth and Nadia didn't.
"All right," she said, and got out of bed. She took her teddy off the floor where it had fallen and took Deborah's hand, and together they crept out of their room, padded barefoot down the hall, and slipped into Ruth and Nadia's room.
Both girls were awake, Nadia sitting up in bed and clutching her pillow, Ruth curled around hers with her hands over her ears. The sheer joy in their faces when they saw Deborah made Joanna's chest hurt again, like somebody was squeezing it.
"Hello, darlings," Deborah said, and Joanna could tell from her voice that her chest hurt too. "Joanna and I can't sleep either. We were thinking we should have a story. Shall we have a story?"
Nadia's lower lip wobbled; she looked about to burst into tears, but she nodded. Ruth sat up and brushed her own fine hair away from her face. "Story please?" she asked.
"All right," Deborah said again, and sat down on Nadia's bed. She was the littlest, so she got to stay in bed. Joanna helped Ruth down, then helped her climb up, and let her nestle next to Deborah instead of taking that place herself. Instead, she climbed up by Nadia and put her arm around her youngest sister's shoulders.
"Story!" Nadia demanded.
"Story," Ruth echoed, a little softer. Deborah smiled at Joanna, a little twistedly, but stroked Ruth's hair, and reached out to press Nadia's hand.
"All right, girls," she said, gently. "A story. Let's see. Have we heard the story of Scheherazade yet? I know you have, Joanna. Help me tell Ruth and Nadia."
Joanna nodded, and mouthed along with Deborah when she began, "Once upon a time..."
--
Once upon a time there was a sultan who loved his wife very much. But one day he found out that she had done something very, very bad. He cried for hours, cried floods of tears until he cried out all the softness in him and became hard and angry. He divorced his wife, and...
(Deborah met Joanna's eyes and very firmly said)
...and sent her away, determined to never see her again. He swore that he would never fall in love again, so he would never be hurt like that again. However, it was the law that every sultan must have a wife, so he said that to keep from breaking the law, he would marry a wife every night and divorce her the next morning so he would never have to love one of them or be hurt again. It was a disgrace for the young woman to be divorced, but the sultan didn't care. He didn't want to be hurt.
(Joanna had always thought that the sultan was mean, here, even in the little-kid version that Deborah was telling, and she still thought his plan was stupid. But now, hearing Mema's wail rise again over Deborah's soft voice, she couldn't help but wonder if he was right about love, at least.)
Things went on like this for a long time, until a brave young woman named Scheherazade said that she would marry him and keep him from disgracing anyone else. So the night he married her, she told him a story, a fascinating story, and timed it just right, so she came just to the most exciting part as the night ended. She stopped talking then, and no matter how the sultan begged, she told him that she would not tell any more of the story until the following night. So he did not divorce her, and the next night, she did the same thing.
(Nadia was asleep now, her head heavy on Joanna's shoulder. Slowly, carefully, so as not to wake her or distract Ruth, Joanna shifted her sister down to her pillow and tucked her in.)
Eventually, (Deborah said softly, as Ruth began to nod) the sultan realized that he had fallen in love with Scheherazade, and that he was willing to risk being hurt again so he could be her husband, because that's what being in love really means. He didn't divorce her, and they lived happily ever after.
(Ruth mouthed along to those final words, but Joanna did not.)
--
"Better?" Deborah asked, softly.
Ruth nodded, and let herself be tucked in. Joanna hugged her teddy tight to her chest, thought about lying alone in her bed, listening to Mema scream, and said, quietly, "Deborah, let's stay in here tonight."
"Yes, please," Ruth said, sleepily. "With me, Debby."
Deborah met Joanna's eyes again, this time with warm approval. "That's a very good idea, Joanna," she said. "You sleep with Nadia and Ruth and I will share."
Nadia did not wake as Joanna slid in beside her, although she did roll over and clutch hard to Joanna's arm. Ruth fell asleep shortly after everyone got settled. How she could sleep, when the shouting continued, Joanna had no idea; she lay with her eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
"Deborah?" she asked, at last.
There was a heavy silence, then Deborah spoke, sounding tired, but not sleepy. "Yes?"
"You lied," she said.
Another heavy silence. "Yes," Deborah said, at last.
"There's no happily ever after, is there?"
"No," Deborah said, quietly. "No, I'm afraid there's not. But don't tell Ruth and Nadia, all right? Let them dream."
"'Course," Joanna said, and tucked her sister a little closer to her, to ease the hurt in her chest just a little bit. The silence settled in again, like a muffling blanket over her ears. There was no more shouting from downstairs, only a wild sort of sobbing that began to fade as the seconds ticked on.
Had Scheherazade ever cried like that?
She held to Nadia's arm, and tighter to her teddy, and whispered to the dark, "Not me. Never."
Across the room, she heard Deborah sigh.
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: FOTD (mussitate: To silently move the lips in simulation of audible speech), rum raisin 10 (guardian), butterscotch, cookie crumbs (expansion of this), rainbow sprinkles.
Word Count: 1325
Rating: G
Summary: Not every story is true.
Notes: A little elaboration on Joanna's childhood. There is every possibility that I've spelled Scheherazade wrong at least once. Please let me know if you spot a misspelling.
Mema was shouting downstairs.
Joanna tried hiding her head under her pillow, but it didn't work. She could still hear Mema shouting, and crying, and saying things in Arabic that Joanna didn't understand. She was glad she didn't. She didn't want to know.
She wished Mema would stop shouting, though. It made her hurt inside, a big sore ball pressed right in the middle of her chest.
"Joanna."
She pulled her pillow off her head and looked up at her older sister, who was sitting on the side of her bed and leaning over her, long hair falling down around her face in a night-black curtain. Deborah's dark eyes were wide and sad. "Joanna," she said, again. "How long have you been awake?"
"A while," she said, and reached up for her sister. Deborah reached down and gave her a hug. "Why is Mema shouting?"
Deborah's eyes got darker, and sadder. "Never mind that," she said, and hugged Joanna again. "Do you think you can go back to sleep?"
Joanna shook her head. "Uh-uh."
"All right." Deborah sat up and pushed her hair away from her face. "Do you want to hear a story, then?"
A story! Something else to listen to. Joanna sat up in bed and clasped her hands tight, excited. "Oh, yes please!"
Deborah smiled. It didn't look like a happy smile, but it was a smile. "All right. Let's go get Ruth and Nadia."
Joanna was about to object-- Ruth and Nadia were too young to listen to stories well, and she didn't want to share Deborah with them any more than she had to-- but then Mema let out a howling wail that rose and fell like a siren, and she shivered.
Ruth and Nadia couldn't sleep either, probably. Alan shared with Mema and Baba, but Ruth and Nadia were just old enough to have their own room, but much, much too little to understand that Mema wasn't crying 'cause of anything they did. Joanna wasn't old enough to know what, exactly, she was crying for, but she knew it wasn't anything she did. Ruth and Nadia didn't.
"All right," she said, and got out of bed. She took her teddy off the floor where it had fallen and took Deborah's hand, and together they crept out of their room, padded barefoot down the hall, and slipped into Ruth and Nadia's room.
Both girls were awake, Nadia sitting up in bed and clutching her pillow, Ruth curled around hers with her hands over her ears. The sheer joy in their faces when they saw Deborah made Joanna's chest hurt again, like somebody was squeezing it.
"Hello, darlings," Deborah said, and Joanna could tell from her voice that her chest hurt too. "Joanna and I can't sleep either. We were thinking we should have a story. Shall we have a story?"
Nadia's lower lip wobbled; she looked about to burst into tears, but she nodded. Ruth sat up and brushed her own fine hair away from her face. "Story please?" she asked.
"All right," Deborah said again, and sat down on Nadia's bed. She was the littlest, so she got to stay in bed. Joanna helped Ruth down, then helped her climb up, and let her nestle next to Deborah instead of taking that place herself. Instead, she climbed up by Nadia and put her arm around her youngest sister's shoulders.
"Story!" Nadia demanded.
"Story," Ruth echoed, a little softer. Deborah smiled at Joanna, a little twistedly, but stroked Ruth's hair, and reached out to press Nadia's hand.
"All right, girls," she said, gently. "A story. Let's see. Have we heard the story of Scheherazade yet? I know you have, Joanna. Help me tell Ruth and Nadia."
Joanna nodded, and mouthed along with Deborah when she began, "Once upon a time..."
--
Once upon a time there was a sultan who loved his wife very much. But one day he found out that she had done something very, very bad. He cried for hours, cried floods of tears until he cried out all the softness in him and became hard and angry. He divorced his wife, and...
(Deborah met Joanna's eyes and very firmly said)
...and sent her away, determined to never see her again. He swore that he would never fall in love again, so he would never be hurt like that again. However, it was the law that every sultan must have a wife, so he said that to keep from breaking the law, he would marry a wife every night and divorce her the next morning so he would never have to love one of them or be hurt again. It was a disgrace for the young woman to be divorced, but the sultan didn't care. He didn't want to be hurt.
(Joanna had always thought that the sultan was mean, here, even in the little-kid version that Deborah was telling, and she still thought his plan was stupid. But now, hearing Mema's wail rise again over Deborah's soft voice, she couldn't help but wonder if he was right about love, at least.)
Things went on like this for a long time, until a brave young woman named Scheherazade said that she would marry him and keep him from disgracing anyone else. So the night he married her, she told him a story, a fascinating story, and timed it just right, so she came just to the most exciting part as the night ended. She stopped talking then, and no matter how the sultan begged, she told him that she would not tell any more of the story until the following night. So he did not divorce her, and the next night, she did the same thing.
(Nadia was asleep now, her head heavy on Joanna's shoulder. Slowly, carefully, so as not to wake her or distract Ruth, Joanna shifted her sister down to her pillow and tucked her in.)
Eventually, (Deborah said softly, as Ruth began to nod) the sultan realized that he had fallen in love with Scheherazade, and that he was willing to risk being hurt again so he could be her husband, because that's what being in love really means. He didn't divorce her, and they lived happily ever after.
(Ruth mouthed along to those final words, but Joanna did not.)
--
"Better?" Deborah asked, softly.
Ruth nodded, and let herself be tucked in. Joanna hugged her teddy tight to her chest, thought about lying alone in her bed, listening to Mema scream, and said, quietly, "Deborah, let's stay in here tonight."
"Yes, please," Ruth said, sleepily. "With me, Debby."
Deborah met Joanna's eyes again, this time with warm approval. "That's a very good idea, Joanna," she said. "You sleep with Nadia and Ruth and I will share."
Nadia did not wake as Joanna slid in beside her, although she did roll over and clutch hard to Joanna's arm. Ruth fell asleep shortly after everyone got settled. How she could sleep, when the shouting continued, Joanna had no idea; she lay with her eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
"Deborah?" she asked, at last.
There was a heavy silence, then Deborah spoke, sounding tired, but not sleepy. "Yes?"
"You lied," she said.
Another heavy silence. "Yes," Deborah said, at last.
"There's no happily ever after, is there?"
"No," Deborah said, quietly. "No, I'm afraid there's not. But don't tell Ruth and Nadia, all right? Let them dream."
"'Course," Joanna said, and tucked her sister a little closer to her, to ease the hurt in her chest just a little bit. The silence settled in again, like a muffling blanket over her ears. There was no more shouting from downstairs, only a wild sort of sobbing that began to fade as the seconds ticked on.
Had Scheherazade ever cried like that?
She held to Nadia's arm, and tighter to her teddy, and whispered to the dark, "Not me. Never."
Across the room, she heard Deborah sigh.