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rry。 I wish I……
That s all right； Farid； I said。 I managed a tired smile。 You have mouths to feed。 A dog was standing next to the truck now； propped on its rear legs； paws on the truck s door； tail wagging。 Sohrab was petting the dog。 I guess he goes to Islamabad for now； I said。
I SLEPT THROUGH almost the entire four…hour ride to Islamabad。 I dreamed a lot； and most of it I only remember as a hodge podge of images； snippets of visual memory flashing in my head like cards in a Rolodex： Baba marinating lamb for my thirteenth birthday party。 Soraya and I making love for the first time； the sun rising in the east； our ears still ringing from the wedding music； her henna…painted hands laced in mine。 The time Baba had taken Hassan and me to a strawberry field in Jalalabad……the owner had told us we could eat as much as we wanted to as long as we bought at least four kilos……and how we d both ended up with bellyaches。 How dark； almost black； Hassan s blood had looked on the snow； dropping from the seat of his pants。 Blood is a powerful thing； bachem。 Khala Jamila patting Soraya s knee and saying； God knows best； maybe it wasn t meant to be。 Sleeping on the roof of my father s house。 Baba saying that the only sin that mattered was theft。 When you tell a lie； you steal a man s right to the truth。 Rahim Khan on the phone； telling me there was a way to be good again。 A way to be good again。。。
TWENTY…FOUR
If Peshawar was the city that reminded me of what Kabul used to be； then Islamabad was the city Kabul could have bee someday。 The streets were wider than Peshawar s； cleaner； and lined with rows of hibiscus and flame trees。 The bazaars were more organized and not nearly as clogged with rickshaws and pedestrians。 The architecture was more elegant too； more modern； and I saw parks where roses and jasmine bloomed in the shadows of trees。
Farid found a small hotel on a side street running along the foot of the Margalla Hills。 We passed the famous Shah Faisal Mosque on the way there； reputedly the biggest mosque in the world； with its giant concrete girders and soaring minarets。 Sohrab perked up at the sight of the mosque； leaned out of the window and looked at it until Farid turned a corner。
THE HOTEL ROOM was a vast improvement over the one in Kabul where Farid and I had stayed。 The sheets were clean； the carpet vacuumed； and the bathroom spotless。 There was shampoo； soap； razors for shaving； a bathtub； and towels that smelled like lemon。 And no bloodstains on the walls。 One other thing： a television set sat on the dresser across from the two single beds。
Look！ I said to Sohrab。 I turned it on manually……no remote……and turned the dial。 I found a children s show with two fluffy sheep puppets singing in Urdu。 Sohrab sat on one of the beds and drew his knees to his chest。 Images from the
TV reflected in his green eyes as he watched； stone…faced； rocking back and forth。 I remembered the time I d promised Hassan I d buy his family a color TV when we both grew up。
I ll get going； Amir agha； Farid said。
Stay the night； I said。 It s a long drive。 Leave tomorrow。