She could not bring herself to look at him. When the car stopped before Jalil's house,
the driver opened the door for them and carried Mariam's suitcase.
Jalil guided her, one palm cupped around each of her shoulders,
through the same gates outside of which, two days before, Mariam had slept on the sidewalk waiting for him.
Two days before when Mariam could think of nothing in the world she wanted more than to walk in this garden with Jalil felt like another lifetime.
How could her life have turned upside down so quickly, Mariam asked herself.
She kept her gaze to the ground, on her feet, stepping on the gray stone path.
She was aware of the presence of people in the garden, murmuring, stepping aside, as she and Jalil walked past.
She sensed the weight of eyes on her, looking down from the windows upstairs. Inside the house too, Mariam kept her head down.
She walked on a maroon carpet with a repeating blue and yellow octagonal pattern,
saw out of the corner of her eye the marble bases of statues, the lower halves of vases,
the frayed ends of richly colored tapestries hanging from walls.
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