A Thousand Splendid Suns

"I'm so sorry."
"Well. Yes. Me too. Here." He fished a small paper bag from his pocket
and passed it to her. "Compliments of Alyona." Inside was a block of
cheese in plastic wrap.
"Alyona. It's a pretty name." Laila tried to say this next without
wavering. "Your wife?"
"My goat." He was smiling at her expectantly, as though waiting for her
to retrieve a memory.
Then Laila remembered. The Soviet film. Alyona had been the captain's
daughter, the girl in love with the first mate. That was the day that she,
Tariq, and Hasina had watched Soviet tanks and jeeps leave Kabul, the
day Tariq had worn that ridiculous Russian fur hat.
"I had to tie her to a stake in the ground," Tariq was saying. "And build
a fence. Because of the wolves. In the foothills where I live, there's a
wooded area nearby, maybe a quarter of a mile away, pine trees mostly,
some fir, deodars. They mostly stick to the woods, the wolves do, but a
bleating goat, one that likes to go wandering, that can draw them out. So
the fence. The stake."
Laila asked him which foothills.
"Pir PanjaL Pakistan," he said "Where I live is called Murree; it's a
summer retreat, an hour from Islamabad. It's hilly and green, lots of
trees, high above sea level So it's cool in the summer. Perfect for