leniency with you. I'm sorry."
The cold, hateful look the girl flashed Rasheed at this did not escape Mariam, but he was
looking down and did not notice.
"No matter. The point is, I am your husband now, and it falls on me to guard not only your
honor but ours, yes, our nang and namoos. That is the husband's burden. You let me worry
about that. Please. As for you, you are the queen, the malika, and this house is your palace.
Anything you need done you ask Mariam and she will do it for you. Won't you, Mariam?
And if you fancy something, I will get it for you. You see, that is the sort of husband I am.
"All I ask in return, well, it is a simple thing. I ask that you avoid leaving this house
without my company. That's all. Simple, no? If I am away and you need something
urgently, I mean absolutely need it and it cannot wait for me, then you can send Mariam
and she will go out and get it for you. You've noticed a discrepancy, surely. Well, one does
not drive a Volga and a Benz in the same manner. That would be foolish, wouldn't it? Oh, I
also ask that when we are out together, that you wear a burqa. For your own protection,
naturally. It is best. So many lewd men in this town now. Such vile intentions, so eager to
dishonor even a married woman. So. That's all."
He coughed.
"I should say that Mariam will be my eyes and ears when I am away." Here, he shot
Mariam a fleeting look that was as hard as a steel toed kick to the temple. "Not that I am
mistrusting. Quite the contrary. Frankly, you strike me as far wiser than your years. But you
are still a young woman, Laila jan, a dokhtar ejawan, and young women can make
unfortunate choices. They can be prone to mischief. Anyway, Mariam will be accountable.
And if there is a slipup..."
On and on he went. Mariam sat watching the girl out of the corner of her eye as Rasheed's
demands and judgments rained down on them like the rockets on Kabul.
One day, Mariam was in the living room folding some shirts of Rasheed's that she had
plucked from the clothesline in the yard. She didn't know how long the girl had been
standing there, but, when she picked up a shirt and turned around, she found her standing
by the doorway, hands cupped around a glassful of tea.
"I didn't mean to startle you," the girl said. "I'm sorry."
Mariam only looked at her.
The sun fell on the girl's face, on her large green eyes and her smooth brow, on her high
cheekbones and the appealing, thick eyebrows, which were nothing like Mariam's own, thin
and featureless. Her yellow hair, uncombed this morning, was middle parted.
Mariam could see in the stiff way the girl clutched the cup, the tightened shoulders, that
she was nervous. She imagined her sitting on the bed working up the nerve.
"The leaves are turning," the girl said companionably. "Have you seen? Autumn is my
favorite. I like the smell of it, when people burn leaves in their gardens. My mother, she
liked springtime the best. You knew my mother?"
"Not really."
The girl cupped a hand behind her ear. "I'm sorry?"
Mariam raised her voice. "I said no. I didn't know your mother."