Oh. Well, who was it?” “Never mind.” “You're angry.” “You were supposed to pick me up.
“I was,” Mammy croaked. Laila could not tell whether this was a question. Mammy began picking at her hair.
This was one of life's great mysteries to Laila, that Mammy's picking had not made her bald as an egg.
What about... What's his name, your friend, Tariq? Yes, what about him?” “He's been gone for a week.“Oh.”
Mammy sighed through her nose. “Did you wash?” “Yes.” “So you're clean, then.”
Mammy turned her tired gaze to the window. “You're clean, and everything is fine.” Laila stood up.
“I have homework now.” “Of course you do. Shut the curtains before you go, my love,” Mammy said, her voice fading.
She was already sinking beneath the sheets. As Laila reached for the curtains, she saw a car pass by on the street tailed by a cloud of dust.
It was the blue Benz with the Herat license plate finally leaving.
She followed it with her eyes until it vanished around a turn, its back window twinkling in the sun.
I won't forget tomorrow,Mammy was saying behind her. “I promise.” “You said that yesterday.” “You don't know, Laila.” “Know what?”
Laila wheeled around to face her mother. “What don't I know?” Mammy's hand floated up to her chest, tapped there.
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