chapter 45

Madam

I was upstairs, playing with Mariam," Zalmai said.

"And your mother?"

"She was…She was downstairs, talking to that man."

"I see," said Rasheed. "Teamwork."

Mariam watched his face relax, loosen. She watched the folds clear from his brow. Suspicion and

misgiving winked out of his eyes. He sat up straight, and, for a few brief moments, he appeared

merely thoughtful, like a captain informed of imminent mutiny taking his time to ponder his next move.

He looked up.

Mariam began to say something, but he raised a hand, and, without looking at her, said, "It's too late,

Mariam."

To Zalmai he said coldly, "You're going upstairs, boy."

On Zalmai's face, Mariam saw alarm. Nervously, he looked around at the three of them. He sensed

now that his tattletale game had let something serious-adult serious-into the room. He cast a

despondent, contrite glance toward Mariam, then his mother.

In a challenging voice, Rasheed said,"Now!"

He took Zalmai by the elbow. Zalmai meekly let himself be led upstairs.

They stood frozen, Mariam and Laila, eyes to the ground, as though looking at each other would give

credence to the way Rasheed saw things, that while he was opening doors and lugging baggage for

people who wouldn't spare him a glance a lewd conspiracy was shaping behind his back, in his home,

in his beloved son's presence. Neither one of them said a word. They listened to the footsteps in the

hallway above, one heavy and foreboding, the other the pattering of a skittish little animal. They

listened to muted words passed, a squeaky plea, a curt retort, a door shut, the rattle of a key as it

turned. Then one set of footsteps returning, more impatiently now.

Mariam saw his feet pounding the steps as he came down. She saw him pocketing the key, saw his

belt, the perforated end wrapped tightly around his knuckles. The fake brass buckle dragged behind

him, bouncing on the steps. She went to stop him, but he shoved her back and blew by her. Without saying a wo