A Thousand Splendid Suns

an image of Tariq's parents presented itself: Tariq's mother trapped in
the lorry, upside down, screaming for Tariq through the smoke, her arms
and chest on fire, the wig melting into her scalp…
Laila had to take a series of rapid breaths.
"He was in the bed next to mine. There were no walls, only a curtain
between us. So I could see him pretty well."
Abdul Sharif found a sudden need to toy with his wedding band. He
spoke more slowly now.
"Your friend, he was badly-very badly-injured, you understand. He had
rubber tubes coming out of him everywhere. At first-" He cleared his
throat. "At first, I thought he'd lost both legs in the attack, but a nurse
said no, only the right, the left one was on account of an old injury.
There were internal injuries too. They'd operated three times already.
Took out sections of intestines, I don't remember what else. And he was
burned. Quite badly. That's all I'll say about that. I'm sure you have your
fair share of nightmares, hamshira. No sense in me adding to them."
Tariq was legless now. He was a torso with two stumps. Legless. Laila
thought she might collapse. With deliberate, desperate effort, she sent
the tendrils of her mind out of this room, out the window, away from this
man, over the street outside, over the city now, and its flat-topped
houses and bazaars, its maze of narrow streets turned to sand castles.
"He was drugged up most of the time. For the pain, you understand. But
he had moments when the drugs were wearing off when he was clear. In
pain but clear of mind I would talk to him from my bed. I told him who I
was, where I was from. He was glad, I think, that there was a hamwaian
next to him.
"I did most of the talking. It was hard for him to. His voice was hoarse,
and I think it hurt him to move his lips. So I told him about my
daughters, and about our house in Peshawar and the veranda my
brother-in-law and I are building out in the back. I told him I had sold