A Thousand Splendid Suns

thing."
Babi said they would hold birthday parties at the restaurant,
engagement ceremonies, New Year's get-togethers. It would turn into a
gathering place for other Afghans who, like them, had fled the war. And,
late at night, after everyone had left and the place was cleaned up, they
would sit for tea amid the empty tables, the three of them, tired but
thankful for their good fortune.
When Babi was done speaking, he grew quiet. They both did. They
knew that Mammy wasn't going anywhere. Leaving Afghanistan had been
unthinkable to her while Ahmad and Noor were still alive. Now that they
were shaheed, packing up and running was an even worse affront, a
betrayal, a disavowal of the sacrifice her sons had made.
How can you think of it? Laila could hear her saying. Does their dying
mean nothing to you, cousin? The only solace I find is in knowing that I
walk the same ground that soaked up their blood. No. Never.
And Babi would never leave without her, Laila knew, even though
Mammy was no more a wife to him now than she was a mother to Laila.
For Mammy, he would brush aside this daydream of his the way he
flicked specks of flour from his coat when he got home from work. And
so they would stay. They would stay until the war ended And they would
stay for whatever came after war.
Laila remembered Mammy telling Babi once that she had married a
man who had no convictions. Mammy didn't understand. She didn't
understand that if she looked into a mirror, she would find the one
unfailing conviction of his life looking right back at her.