"The one from Herat. You're so young! Mariam jan, isn't it? My name is Fariba. I live on
your street, five houses to your left, the one with the green door. This is my sonNoor."
The boy at her side had a smooth, happy face and wiry hair like his mother's. There was a
patch of black hairs on the lobe of his left ear. His eyes had a mischievous, reckless light in
them. He raised his hand."Salaam, Khala Jan."
"Noor is ten. I have an older boy too, Ahmad."
"He's thirteen," Noor said.
"Thirteen going on forty." The woman Fariba laughed. "My husband's name is Hakim,"
she said. "He's a teacher here in Deh Mazang. You should come by sometime, we'll have a
cup "
And then suddenly, as if emboldened, the other women pushed past Fariba and swarmed
Mariam, forming a circle around her with alarming speed
"So you're Rasheed jan's young bride "
"How do you like Kabul?"
"I've been to Herat. I have a cousin there"
"Do you want a boy or a girl first?"
"The minarets! Oh, what beauty! What a gorgeous city!"
"Boy is better, Mariam jan, they carry the family name "
"Bah! Boys get married and run off. Girls stay behind and take care of you when you're
old"
"We heard you were coming."
"Have twins. One of each! Then everyone's happy."
Mariam backed away. She was hyperventilating. Her ears buzzed, her pulse fluttered, her
eyes darted from one face to another. She backed away again, but there was nowhere to go
to she was in the center of a circle. She spotted Fariba, who was frowning, who saw that
she was in distress.
"Let her be!" Fariba was saying. "Move aside, let her be! You're frightening her!"
Mariam clutched the dough close to her chest and pushed through the crowd around her.
"Where are you going, hamshira?”
She pushed until somehow she was in the clear and then she ran up the street. It wasn't
until she'd reached the intersection that she realized she'd run the wrong way. She turned