that she loved Zalmai with the marrow of her bones, just as she did Aziza.
But Zalmai worshipped his father, and, because he did, he was transformed when his father was around to dote on him.
Zalmai was quick then with a defiant cackle or an impudent grin. In his father's presence, he was easily offended.
He held grudges. He persisted in mischief in spite of Laila's scolding, which he never did when Rasheed was away.
Rasheed approved of all of it. “A sign of intelligence,” he said.
He said the same of Zalmai's recklessness when he swallowed, then pooped, marbles; when he lit matches; when he chewed on Rasheed's cigarettes.
When Zalmai was born, Rasheed had moved him into the bed he shared with Laila.
He had bought him a new crib and had lions and crouching leopards painted on the side panels.
He'd paid for new clothes, new rattles, new bottles, new diapers, even though they could not afford them and Aziza's old ones were still serviceable.
One day, he came home with a battery-run mobile, which he hung over Zalmai's crib.
Little yellow and black bumblebees dangled from a sunflower, and they crinkled and squeaked when squeezed.
A tune played when it was turned on. “I thought you said business was slow,” Laila said.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색