But for Laila, being with Tariq is worth weathering these apprehensions.
When they make love, Laila feels anchored, she feels sheltered.
Her anxieties, that their life together is a temporary blessing, that soon it will come loose again in strips and tatters, are allayed.
Her fears of separation vanish. “What do you mean?” she says now. “What's going on back home. It may not be so bad in the end.”
Back home, bombs are falling once again, this time American bombs.
Laila has been watching images of the war every day on the television as she changes sheets and vacuums.
The Americans have armed the warlords once more, and enlisted the help of the Northern Alliance to drive out the Taliban and find bin Laden.
But it rankles Laila, what Tariq is saying. She pushes his head roughly off her chest.
“Not so bad? People dying? Women, children, old people? Homes destroyed again? Not so bad?” “Shh. You'll wake the children.”
“How can you say that, Tariq?” she snaps. “After the so-called blunder in Karam? A hundred innocent people! You saw the bodies for yourself!”
“No,” Tariq says. He props himself up on his elbow, looks down at Laila.
“You misunderstand. What I meant was—” “You wouldn't know,” Laila says.
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