A Thousand Splendid Suns

(Nancy Kaufman) #1

"Be careful," said Babi.


"I will, Kakajan," Tariq's voice echoed back.


Laila watched a trio of men far below, talking near a cow tethered to a fence. Around
them, the trees had started to turn, ochre and orange, scarlet red.


"I miss the boys too, you know," Babi said. His eyes had welled up a tad. His chin was
trembling. "I may not... With your mother, both her joy and sadness are extreme. She can't
hide either. She never could. Me, I suppose I'm different. I tend to...But it broke me too,
the boys dying. I miss them too. Not a day passes that I...It's very hard, Laila. So very
hard." He squeezed the inner corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. When he
tried to talk, his voice broke. He pulled his lips over his teeth and waited. He took a long,
deep breath, looked at her. "But I'm glad I have you. Every day, I thank God for you. Every
single day. Sometimes, when your mother's having one of her really dark days, I feel like
you're all I have, Laila."
Laila drew closer to him and rested her cheek up against his chest. He seemed slightly
startled unlike Mammy, he rarely expressed his affection physically. He planted a brisk kiss
on the top of her head and hugged her back awkwardly. They stood this way for a while,
looking down on the Bamiyan Valley.


"As much as I love this land, some days I think about leaving it," Babi said.


"Where to?"


"Anyplace where it's easy to forget. Pakistan first, I suppose. For a year, maybe two. Wait
for our paperwork to get processed."


"And then?"


"And then, well, it is a big world. Maybe America. Somewhere near the sea. Like
California."


Babi said the Americans were a generous people. They would help them with money and
food for a while, until they could get on their feet.


"I would find work, and, in a few years, when we had enough saved up, we'd open a little
Afghan restaurant Nothing fancy, mind you, just a modest little place, a few tables, some
rugs. Maybe hang some pictures of Kabul. We'd give the Americans a taste of Afghan food.
And with your mother's cooking, they'd line up and down the street.


"And you, you would continue going to school, of course. You know how I feel about that.
That would be our absolute top priority, to get you a good education, high school then
college. But in your free time, if you wanted to, you could help out, take orders, fill water
pitchers, that sort of thing."

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