"Kiss Aziza for me," she said. "Tell her she is the noor of my eyes and the sultan of my
heart. Will you do that for me?"
Laila nodded, her lips pursed together.
"Take the bus, like I said, and keep your head low."
"When will I see you, Mariam? I want to see you before I testify. I'll tell them how it
happened. I'll explain that it wasn't your fault. That you had to do it. They'll understand,
won't they, Mariam? They'll understand."
Mariam gave her a soft look.
She hunkered down to eye level with Zalmai. He was wearing a red T shirt, ragged khakis,
and a used pair of cowboy boots Rasheed had bought him from Mandaii. He was holding
his new basketball with both hands. Mariam planted a kiss on his cheek.
"You be a good, strong boy, now," she said. "You treat your mother well." She cupped his
face. He pulled back but she held on. "I am so sorry, Zalmai jo. Believe me that I'm so very
sorry for all your pain and sadness."
Laila held Zalmai's hand as they walked down the road together. Just before they turned
the corner, Laila looked
back and saw Mariam at the door. Mariam was wearing a white scarf over her head, a dark
blue sweater buttoned in the front, and white cotton trousers. A crest of gray hair had fallen
loose over her brow. Bars of sunlight slashed across her face and shoulders. Mariam waved
amiably.
They turned the corner, and Laila never saw Mariam again.