"They will. Sooner or later. They're bloodhounds." Mariam's voice was low, cautioning; it
made Laila's promises sound fantastical, trumped up, foolish.
"Mariam, please "
"When they do, they'll find you as guilty as me. Tariq too. I won't have the two of you
living on the run, like fugitives. What will happen to your children if you're caught?"
Laila's eyes brimming, stinging.
"Who will take care of them then? The Taliban? Think like a mother, Laila jo. Think like
a mother. I am."
"I can't."
"You have to."
"It isn't fair," Laila croaked.
"But it is. Come here. Come lie here."
Laila crawled to her and again put her head on Mariam's lap. She remembered all the
afternoons they'd spent together, braiding each other's hair, Mariam listening patiently to
her random thoughts and ordinary stories with an air of gratitude, with the expression of a
person to whom a unique and coveted privilege had been extended "Itis fair," Mariam said.
"I've killed our husband. I've deprived your son of his father. It isn't right that I run. Ican't.
Even if they never catch us, I'll never..." Her lips trembled. "I'll never escape your son's
grief How do I look at him? How do I ever bring myself to look at him, Laila jo?"
Mariam twiddled a strand of Laila's hair, untangled a stubborn curl.
"For me, it ends here. There's nothing more I want. Everything I'd ever wished for as a
little girl you've already given me. You and your children have made me so very happy. It's
all right, Laila jo. This is all right. Don't be sad."
Laila could find no reasonable answer for anything Mariam said. But she rambled on
anyway, incoherently, childishly, about fruit trees that awaited planting and chickens that
awaited raising. She went on about small houses in unnamed towns, and walks to trout
filled lakes. And, in the end, when the words dried up, the tears did not, and all Laila could
do was surrender and sob like a child over whelmed by an adult's unassailable logic. All she
could do was roll herself up and bury her face one last time in the welcoming warmth of
Mariam's lap.
Later that morning, Mariam packed Zalmai a small lunch of bread and dried figs. For
Aziza too she packed some figs, and a few cookies shaped like animals. She put it all in a
paper bag and gave it to Laila.