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d with long blue tails。 They floated high above the trees on the west end of the park； over the windmills。
I thought about a ment Rahim Khan had made just before we hung up。 Made it in passing； almost as an afterthought。 I closed my eyes and saw him at the other end of the scratchy longdistance line； saw him with his lips slightly parted； head tilted to one side。 And again； something in his bottomless black eyes hinted at an unspoken secret between us。 Except now I knew he knew。 My suspicions had been right all those years。 He knew about Assef； the kite； the money； the watch with the lightning bolt hands。 He had always known。
e。 There is a way to be good again； Rahim Khan had said on the phone just before hanging up。 Said it in passing； almost as an afterthought。
A way to be good again。
WHEN I CAME HOME； Soraya was on the phone with her mother。 Won t be long； Madarjan。 A week； maybe two。。。 Yes； you and Padar can stay with me。
Two years earlier； the general had broken his right hip。 He d had one of his migraines again； and emerging from his room； bleary…eyed and dazed； he had tripped on a loose carpet edge。 His scream had brought Khala Jamila running from the kitchen。 It sounded like a jaroo； a broomstick； snapping in half； she was always fond of saying； though the doctor had said it was unlikely she d heard anything of the sort。 The general s shattered hip……and all of the ensuing plications； the pneumonia； blood poisoning； the protracted stay at the nursing home……ended Khala Jamila s long…running soliloquies about her own health。 And started new ones about the general s。 She d tell anyone who would listen that the doctors had told them his kidneys were failing。 But then they had never seen Afghan kidneys； had they？ she d say proudly。 What I remember most about the general s hospital stay is how Khala Jamila would wait until he fell asleep； and then sing to him； songs I remembered from Kabul； playing on Baba s scratchy old transistor radio。
The general s frailty……and time……had softened things between him and Soraya too。 They took walks together； went to lunch on Saturdays； and； sometimes； the general sat in on some of her classes。 He d sit in the back of the room； dressed in his shiny old gray suit； wooden cane across his lap； smiling。 Sometimes he even took notes。
THAT NIGHT； Soraya and I lay in bed； her back pressed to my chest； my face buried in her hair。 I remembered when we used to lay forehead to forehead； sharing afterglow kisses and whispering until our eyes drifted closed； whispering about tiny； curled toes； first smiles； first words； first steps。 We still did sometimes； but the whispers were about school； my new book； a giggle
over someone s ridiculous dress at a party。 Our lovemaking was still good； at times better than good； but some nights all I d feel was a relief to be done with it； to be free to drift away and forget； at least for a while； about the futility of what we d just done。 She never said so； but I knew sometimes Soraya felt it too。 On those nights； we d each roll to our side of the bed and let our own savior take us away。 Soraya