But she was careful never to mention him by name. Sometimes she caught Rasheed looking at Aziza in the most peculiar way.
The other night, sitting on the bedroom floor, where he was shaving a corn from his foot,
he said quite casually, “So what was it like between you two?”
Laila had given him a puzzled look, as though she didn't understand.
Laili and Majnoon. You and the langa, the cripple. What was it you had, he and you?”
“He was my friend,” she said, careful that her voice not shift too much in key.
She busied herself making a bottle. “You know that.” “I don't know what I know.”
Rasheed deposited the shavings on the windowsill and dropped onto the bed.
The springs protested with a loud creak. He splayed his legs, picked at his crotch.
And as....friends, did the two of you ever do anything out of order?“Out of order?”
Rasheed smiled lightheartedly, but Laila could feel his gaze, cold and watchful.
“Let me see, now. Well, did he ever give you a kiss? Maybe put his hand where it didn't belong?”
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