Aunt Luda

Think you had a shit day? Try your mother dying because she thought you did, and the same evening, your father tells you he considered selling your ass and gives you a black eye, and on your mom's wake, your sister tries to force herself on your drunk ass while your relatives are caressing you with long, pointy nails they call manicure.

...

Dark figures towered over Nadir; he started to feel claustrophobic. His aunts Luda, Amarat, and Dalal had him cornered, smothering him with condolences and caresses of their long, pointy nails. Weeping for the loss of their sister, they made it hard for him to keep his dignity. Again and again, their fingers brushed the swollen area around his left eye, sounds of pity accompanying the motion, yet none criticised his father for the blow. While deeply loved, Nadir was always assumed to have earned it. Ashraf had confined himself to the other end of the living room where he sat with his closest relatives.

“You poor child, no son should have to bury his mother,” Amarat rasped. Her black-to-blond ombre was done up in a smooth, shiny bun as it had been at Nadir's and any other wedding or festivity.

“Better than the other way around,” Luda whispered from underneath her curly brown beehive, cautioning Amarat to keep in mind Dalal had buried her only son not long ago.

“I am just saying, the boy has been through so much,” Amarat hissed, tapping Nadir's head with her ring-laden finger to remind her sister who she was referring to. “And remember how Laylah has always doted on him? They were so close and now he's all alone, the poor...”

Nadir didn't manage to discern what she had just called him. Coochiecoo? Boochieboo? Pooshiemoo? He cleared his throat, smiling awkwardly. “Auntie, atonement be yours, I still got you. And Orli. And Nasreen, and, well, Dad.” He swallowed at the mention of his father. During the days leading up to Laylah's funeral, neither of them had reached out to the other. “Auntie Luda,” Nadir said and turned to the beehive, “You would look even more ravishing holding something strong in my face.”

“You need it, sweetheart.” As Luda made her way to her brother's generous wine rack, her sisters bickering over Nadir's head about who pitied him more, Nadir ducked and slid off his chair.