remembered
Then Babi was in the hallway, calling her name from the top of the stairs, asking her to
come up quickly.
"She's agreed!"he said, his voice tremulous with suppressed excitement "We're leaving,
Laila. All three of us. We're leavingKabul."
In Mammy's room, the three of them sat on the bed. Outside, rockets were zipping across
the sky as Hekmatyar's and Massoud's forces fought and fought. Laila knew that
somewhere in the city someone had just died, and that a pall of black smoke was hovering
over some building that had collapsed in a puffing mass of dust. There would be bodies to
step around in the morning. Some would be collected. Others not. Then Kabul's dogs, who
had developed a taste for human meat, would feast.
All the same, Laila had an urge to run through those streets. She could barely contain her
own happiness. It took effort to sit, to not shriek with joy. Babi said they would go to
Pakistan first, to apply for visas. Pakistan, where Tariq was! Tariq was only gone seventeen
days, Laila calculated excitedly. If only Mammy had made up her mind seventeen days
earlier, they could have left together. She would have been with Tariq right now! But that
didn't matter now. They were going to Peshawar she, Mammy, and Babi and they would
find Tariq and his parents there. Surely they would. They would process their paperwork
together. Then, who knew? Who knew? Europe?
America? Maybe, as Babi was always saying, somewhere near the sea...
Mammy was half lying, half sitting against the headboard. Her eyes were puffy. She was
picking at her hair.
Three days before, Laila had gone outside for a breath of air. She'd stood by the front
gates, leaning against them, when she'd heard a loud crack and something had zipped by
her right ear, sending tiny splinters of wood flying before her eyes. After Giti's death, and
the thousands of rounds fired and myriad rockets that had fallen on Kabul, it was the sight
of that single round hole in the gate, less than three fingers away from where Laila's head
had been, that shook Mammy awake. Made her see that one war had cost her two children
already; this latest could cost her her remaining one.
From the walls of the room, Ahmad and Noor smiled down. Laila watched Mammy's eyes
bouncing now, guiltily, from one photo to the other. As if looking for their consent. Their
blessing. As if asking for forgiveness.
"There's nothing left for us here," Babi said. "Our sons are gone, but we still have Laila.
We still have each other, Fariba. We can make a new life."
Babi reached across the bed. When he leaned to take her hands, Mammy let him. On her
face, a look of concession. Of resignation. They held each other's hands, lightly, and then
they were swaying quietly in an embrace. Mammy buried her face in his neck. She grabbed
a handful of his shirt.
For hours that night, the excitement robbed Laila of sleep. She lay in bed and watched the
horizon light up in garish shades of orange and yellow. At some point, though, despite the
exhilaration inside and the crack of
artillery fire outside, she fell asleep.