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ar the night of our khastegari; when she d told me about her past。
By the time I was done with my story; she was weeping。
What do you think? I said。
I don t know what to think; Amir。 You ve told me so much all at once。
I realize that。
I heard her blowing her nose。 But I know this much: You have to bring him home。 I want you to。
Are you sure? I said; closing my eyes and smiling。
Am I sure? she said。 Amir; he s your qaom; your family; so he s my qaom too。 Of course I m sure。 You can t leave him to the streets。 There was a short pause。 What s he like?
I looked over at Sohrab sleeping on the bed。 He s sweet; in a solemn kind of way。
Who can blame him? she said。 I want to see him; Amir。 I really do。
Soraya?
Yeah。
Dostet darum。 I love you。
I love you back; she said。 I could hear the smile in her words。 And be careful。
I will。 And one more thing。 Don t tell your parents who he is。 If they need to know; it should e from me。
Okay。
We hung up。
THE LAWN OUTSIDE the American embassy in Islamabad was neatly mowed; dotted with circular clusters of flowers; bordered by razor…straight hedges。 The building itself was like a lot of buildings in Islamabad: flat and white。 We passed through several road blocks to get there and three different security officials conducted a body search on me after the wires in my jaws set off the metal
detectors。 When we finally stepped in from the heat; the airconditioning hit my face like a splash of ice water。 The secretary in the lobby; a fifty…something; lean…faced blond woman; smiled when I gave her my name。 She wore a beige blouse and black slacks……the first woman I d seen in weeks dressed in something other than a burqa or a shalwar…kameez。 She looked me up on the appointment list; tapping the eraser end of her pencil on the desk。 She found my name and asked me to take a seat。
Would you like some lemonade? she asked。
None for me; thanks; I said。
How about your son?
Excuse me?
The handsome young gentleman; she said; smiling at Sohrab。
Oh。 That d be nice; thank you。
Sohrab and I sat on the black leather sofa across the reception desk; next to a tall American flag。 Sohrab picked up a magazine from the glass…top coffee table。 He flipped the pages; not really looking at the pictures。
What? Sohrab said。
Sorry?
You re smiling。
I was thinking about you; I said。
He gave a nervous smile。 Picked up another magazine and flipped through it in under thirty seconds。
Don t be afraid; I said; touching his arm。 These people are friendly。 Relax。 I could have used my own advice。 I kept shifting in my seat; untying and retying my shoelaces。 The secretary placed a tall glass of lemonade with ice on the coffee table。 There you go。
Sohrab smiled shyly。 Thank you very much; he said in English。 It came out as Tank you wery match。 It was the only English he knew; he d told me; that and Have a nice day。
She laughed。 You re most wele。 She walked back to her desk; high heels clicking on the floor。
Have a nice day; Sohrab said。
RAYMOND ANDREWS was a short fellow with sma