buckle. Wincing, she quietly left the bedroom.
In Mariam's room, the light was a shade darker than gray, the kind of light Laila had
always associated with crowing roosters and dew rolling off blades of grass. Mariam was
sitting in a corner, on a prayer rug facing the window. Slowly, Laila lowered herself to the
ground, sitting down across from her.
"You should go and visit Aziza this morning," Mariam said.
"I know what you mean to do."
"Don't walk. Take the bus, you'll blend in. Taxis are too conspicuous. You're sure to get
stopped for riding alone."
"What you promised last night..."
Laila could not finish. The trees, the lake, the nameless village. A delusion, she saw. A
lovely lie meant to soothe. Like cooing to a distressed child.
"I meant it," Mariam said. "I meant it foryou, Laila jo."
"I don't want any of it without you," Laila croaked.
Mariam smiled wanly.
"I want it to be just like you said, Mariam, all of us going together, you, me, the children.
Tariq has a place in Pakistan. We can hide out there for a while, wait for things to calm
down "
"That's not possible," Mariam said patiently, like a parent to a well meaning but
misguided child.
"We'll take care of each other," Laila said, choking on the words, her eyes wet with tears.
"Like you said. No. I'll take careof you for a change."
"Oh, Laila jo."
Laila went on a stammering rant. She bargained. She promised. She would do all the
cleaning, she said, and all the cooking. "You won't have to do a thing. Ever again. You rest,
sleep in, plant a garden. Whatever you want, you ask and I'll get it for you. Don't do this,
Mariam. Don't leave me. Don't break Aziza's heart."
"They chop off hands for stealing bread," Mariam said "What do you think they'll do
when they find a dead husband and two missing wives?"
"No one will know," Laila breathed. "No one will find us."