Amina’s Song

“Your friends will like those.” Zohra points with her eyebrows toward a stall filled with colorful lacquered boxes and figurines. “They’re made in Kashmir.”
“They’re pretty,” I agree.
“Go see, but don’t say anything. Once the shopkeeper hears your English, the price will triple.”
I wander over and pretend to admire a shawl when I notice a green-and-gold box with a curved lid. It’s shaped like a little treasure chest and would be perfect for Soojin. Then I spot some stunning jewelry in a glass case, including a silver necklace with a row of small cobalt-blue stones. I try not to stare at it.
Zohra turns to the shopkeeper after I secretly signal what I want to her.
“Bhai Sahib,” she beckons in Urdu, calling the man with a mustache and thick glasses Mister Brother to be polite. “Tell me the right price for this. No ripping me off.” Her tone is surprisingly aggressive.
Then Zohra picks up a candleholder, instead of the green box. When I start to protest, she gives me a death stare. I watch in silence as they haggle in Urdu over the price of something I don’t want. Mister Brother claims excellent quality. My cousin complains it’s robbery and says she isn’t a fool. Then Zohra suddenly drops the candleholder as if she’s deeply offended by it and starts to walk away.
Zohra squeezes my arm and returns to the stall, acting like she’s doing Mister Brother a favor. He shows her some bowls and gives her a number in rupees. I have no idea how much money that is since my Urdu is especially terrible when it comes to numbers. Plus, I forget how to convert Pakistani currency into dollars. Zohra shakes her head and then points toward the box I want.
“How about that? Can you live with it?” she asks me, wrinkling her nose as if it’s barely worth considering.
I start to sweat.
Am I supposed to say yes or no?
I take a gamble and nod yes.
“Okay, final price. No games.” Zohra challenges the shopkeeper.
The arguing continues until Mister Brother finally gives Zohra a number she grudgingly accepts.
“What color?” she asks me. I point to the green box for Soojin and a turquoise one for Emily. Zohra adds another bright red one to the pile.
“From me to you,” she says.
“What about that necklace?” I whisper to Zohra. She starts to shake her head, but Mister Brother has superhuman hearing and whips the case open and hands me the necklace before she finishes.
Mustafa watches, his dark eyes amused, as Zohra yanks my arm and starts to drag me off with her.