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f old records and paperbacks。
My daughter； Soraya jan； General Taheri said。 He took a deep breath like a man eager to change the subject and checked his gold pocket watch。 Well； time to go and set up。 He and Baba kissed on the cheek and he shook my hand with both of his。 Best of luck with the writing； he said； looking me in the eye。 His pale blue eyes revealed nothing of the thoughts behind them。
For the rest of that day； I fought the urge to look toward the gray van。
IT CAME TO ME on our way home。 Taheri； I knew I d heard that name before。
Wasn t there some story floating around about Taheri s daughter？ I said to Baba； trying to sound casual。
You know me； Baba said； inching the bus along the queue exiting the flea market。 Talk turns to gossip and I walk away。
But there was； wasn t there？ I said。
Why do you ask？ He was looking at me coyly。
I shrugged and fought back a smile。 Just curious； Baba。
Really？ Is that all？ he said； his eyes playful； lingering on mine。 Has she made an impression on you？
I rolled my eyes。 Please； Baba。
He smiled； and swung the bus out of the flea market。 We headed for Highway 680。 We drove in silence for a while。 All I ve heard is that there was a man once and things。。。 didn t go well。 He said this gravely； like he d disclosed to me that she had breast cancer。
I hear she is a decent girl； hardworking and kind。 But no khastegars； no suitors； have knocked on the general s door since。 Baba sighed。 It may be unfair； but what happens in a few days； sometimes even a single day； can change the course of a whole lifetime； Amir； he said。
LYING AWAKE IN BED that night； I thought of Soraya Taheri s sickle…shaped birthmark； her gently hooked nose； and the way her luminous eyes had fleetingly held mine。 My heart stuttered at the thought of her。 Soraya Taheri。 My Swap Meet Princess。
TWELVE
In Afghanistan； _yelda_ is the first night of the month of _Jadi_； the first night of winter； and the longest night of the year。 As was the tradition； Hassan and I used to stay up late； our feet tucked under the kursi； while Ali tossed apple skin into the stove and told us ancient tales of sultans and thieves to pass that longest of nights。 It was from Ali that I learned the lore of _yelda_； that bedeviled moths flung themselves at candle flames； and wolves climbed mountains looking for the sun。 Ali swore that if you ate water melon the night of _yelda_； you wouldn t get thirsty the ing summer。
When I was older； I read in my poetry books that _yelda_ was the starless night tormented lovers kept vigil； enduring the endless dark； waiting for the sun to rise and bring with it their loved one。 After I met Soraya Taheri； every night of the week became a _yelda_ for me。 And when Sunday mornings came； I rose from bed； Soraya Taheri s brown…eyed face already in my head。 In Baba s bus； I counted the miles until I d see her sitting barefoot； arranging cardboard boxes of yellowed encyclopedias； her heels white against the asphalt； silver bracelets jingling around her slender wrists。 I d think of the shadow her hair cast on the ground wh