19Ramadan ended and it was Eid al-Fitr, the feast that follows the month of fasting. I spent the first day behind the curtain in my room, spying on the people visiting the family whose lives I had complicated. No one asked after me. No one sent me any festive greetings apart from Ghassan, who sent me a text message saying Eid Mubarak. The women were in their best clothes and had had their hair done. They came into the house through the inner courtyard. The men wore the usual traditional dress and had shiny new shoes on. Even the little boys, my aunts’ children, were wearing traditional dress with headdresses just like the men. The servants were also celebrating the occasion by wearing new clothes. Through the glass door, which was half open, I could see Grandmother with her legs stretched
