A Thousand Splendid Suns

Eating. Sleeping too. Yes. We had lamb last night Maybe it was last
week.
When Aziza spoke like this, Laila saw more than a little of Mariam in
her.
Aziza stammered now. Mariam noticed it first. It was subtle but
perceptible, and more pronounced with words that began with /. Laila
asked Zaman about it. He frowned and said, "I thought she'd always
done that."
They left the orphanage with Aziza that Friday afternoon for a short
outing and met Rasheed, who was waiting for them by the bus stop.
When Zalmai spotted his father, he uttered an excited squeak and
impatiently wriggled from Laila's arms. Aziza's greeting to Rasheed was
rigid but not hostile.
Rasheed said they should hurry, he had only two hours before he had to
report back to work. This was his first week as a doorman for the
Intercontinental. From noon to eight, six days a week, Rasheed opened
car doors, carried luggage, mopped up the occasional spill. Sometimes,
at day's end, the cook at the buffet-style restaurant let Rasheed bring
home a few leftovers-as long as he was discreet about it-cold meatballs
sloshing in oil; fried chicken wings, the crust gone hard and dry; stuffed
pasta shells turned chewy; stiff, gravelly rice. Rasheed had promised
Laila that once he had some money saved up, Aziza could move back
home.
Rasheed was wearing his uniform, a burgundy red polyester suit, white
shirt, clip-on tie, visor cap pressing down on his white hair. In this
uniform, Rasheed was transformed. He looked vulnerable, pitiably