A Thousand Splendid Suns

On the way to Karteh-Seh, Zalmai bounced in Rasheed's arms, and
Aziza held Mariam's hand as she walked quickly beside her. The wind
blew the dirty scarf tied under Aziza's chin and rippled the hem of her
dress. Aziza was more grim now, as though she'd begun to sense, with
each step, that she was being duped. Laila had not found the strength to
tell Aziza the truth. She had told her that she was going to a school, a
special school where the children ate and slept and didn't come home
after class. Now Aziza kept pelting Laila with the same questions she had
been asking for days. Did the students sleep in different rooms or all in
one great big room? Would she make friends? Was she, Laila, sure that
the teachers would be nice?
And, more than once, How long do I have to stay?
They stopped two blocks from the squat, barracks-style building.
"Zalmai and I will wait here," Rasheed said. "Oh, before I forget…"
He fished a stick of gum from his pocket, a parting gift, and held it out
to Aziza with a stiff, magnanimous air. Aziza took it and muttered a
thank-you. Laila marveled at Aziza's grace, Aziza's vast capacity for
forgiveness, and her eyes filled. Her heart squeezed, and she was faint
with sorrow at the thought that this afternoon Aziza would not nap beside
her, that she would not feel the flimsy weight of Aziza's arm on her
chest, the curve of Aziza's head pressing into her ribs, Aziza's breath
warming her neck, Aziza's heels poking her belly.
When Aziza was led away, Zalmai began wailing, crying, Ziza! Ziza! He
squirmed and kicked in his father's arms, called for his sister, until his