A Thousand Splendid Suns

"I don't understand," Mariam said.
The doctor said the baby was positioned so it wouldn't come out on its
own. "And too much time has passed as is. We need to go to the
operating room now."
Laila gave a grimacing nod, and her head drooped to one side.
"There is something I have to tell you," the doctor said. She moved
closer to Mariam, leaned in, and spoke in a lower, more confidential
tone. There was a hint of embarrassment in her voice now.
"What is she saying?" Laila groaned. "Is something wrong with the
baby?"
"But how will she stand it?" Mariam said.
The doctor must have heard accusation in this question, judging by the
defensive shift in her tone.
"You think I want it this way?" she said. "What do you want me to do?
They won't give me what I need. I have no X-ray either, no suction, no
oxygen, not even simple antibiotics. When NGOs offer money, the
Taliban turn them away. Or they funnel the money to the places that
cater to men."
"But, Doctor sahib, isn't there something you can give her?" Mariam
asked.
"What's going on?" Laila moaned.
"You can buy the medicine yourself, but-"
"Write the name," Mariam said. "You write it down and I'll get it."
Beneath the burqa, the doctor shook her head curtly. "There is no
time," she said. "For one thing, none of the nearby pharmacies have it.
So you'd have to fight through traffic from one place to the next, maybe
all the way across town, with little likelihood that you'd ever find it. It's
almost eight-thirty now, so you'll probably get arrested for breaking
curfew. Even if you find the medicine, chances are you can't afford it. Or