“That's usually the hard part. I was worried, there, for a while.
I thought I'd have to cluck like a chicken or bray like a donkey. But, there you are. And so lovely you are.”
He called in an attendant to look after Aziza for a few moments. Aziza leaped onto Mariam's lap and clung to her.
“We're just going to talk, my love,” Laila said. “I'll be right here. All right? Right here.”
“Why don't we go outside for a minute, Aziza jo?” Mariam said. “Your mother needs to talk to Kaka Zaman here. Just for a minute. Now, come on.”
When they were alone, Zaman asked for Aziza's date of birth, history of illnesses, allergies.
He asked about Aziza's father, and Laila had the strange experience of telling a lie that was really the truth.
Zaman listened, his expression revealing neither belief nor skepticism. He ran the orphanage on the honor system, he said.
If a hamshira said her husband was dead and she couldn't care for her children, he didn't question it.
Laila began to cry. Zaman put down his pen. “I'm ashamed,” Laila croaked, her palm pressed to her mouth.
“Look at me, hamshira—” “What kind of mother abandons her own child?” “Look at me.” Laila raised her gaze.
“It isn't your fault. Do you hear me? Not you. It's those savages, those wahshis, who are to blame.”
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색