Now that the Soviets have collapsed, we're no use to them. We served our purpose.
To them, Afghanistan is akenarab, a shit hole. Excuse my language, but it's true. What do you think, Laila jan?
The girl mumbled something unintelligible and pushed a meatball around in her bowl.
Rasheed nodded thoughtfully, as though she'd said the most clever thing he'd ever heard.
Mariam had to look away. “You know, your father, God give him peace, your father and I used to have discussions like this.”
“This was before you were born, of course. On and on we'd go about politics. About books too. Didn't we, Mariam? You remember.”
Mariam busied herself taking a sip of water. “Anyway, I hope I am not boring you with all this talk of politics.”
Later, Mariam was in the kitchen, soaking dishes in soapy water, a tightly wound knot in her belly.
It wasn't so much what he said, the blatant lies, the contrived empathy, or even the fact that he had not raised a hand to her, Mariam,
since he had dug the girl out from under those bricks.
It was the staged delivery. Like a performance. An attempt on his part, both sly and pathetic, to impress. To charm.
And suddenly Mariam knew that her suspicions were right.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색