按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
ners driving away on Mission Boulevard。 Soon we d leave too； and for the first time ever； Baba would be all alone。
Soraya pulled me to her and the tears finally came。
BECAUSE SORAYA AND I never had an engagement period； much of what I learned about the Taheris I learned after I married into their family。 For example； I learned that； once a month； the general suffered from blinding migraines that lasted almost a week。 When the headaches struck； the general went to his room； undressed； turned off the light； locked the door； and didn t e out until the pain subsided。 No one was allowed to go in； no one was allowed to knock。 Eventually； he would emerge； dressed in his gray suit once more； smelling of sleep and bedsheets； his eyes puffy and bloodshot。 I learned from Soraya that he and Khanum Taheri had slept in separate rooms for as long as she could remember。 I learned that he could be petty； such as when he d take a bite of the _qurma_ his wife placed before him； sigh； and push it away。 I ll make you something else； Khanum Taheri would say； but he d ignore her； sulk； and eat bread and onion。 This made Soraya angry and her mother cry。 Soraya told me he took antide pressants。 I learned that he had kept his family on welfare and had never held a job in the U。S。； preferring to cash government…issued checks than degrading himself with work unsuitable for a man of his stature……he saw the flea market only as a hobby； a way to socialize with his fellow Afghans。 The general believed that； sooner or later； Afghanistan would be freed； the monarchy restored； and his services would once again be called upon。 So every day； he donned his gray suit； wound his pocket watch； and waited。
I learned that Khanum Taheri……whom I called Khala Jamila now……had once been famous in Kabul for her enchanting singing voice。 Though she had never sung professionally； she had had the talent to……I learned she could sing folk songs； ghazals； even raga； which was usually a man s domain。 But as much as the general appreciated listening to music……he owned； in fact； a considerable collection of classical ghazal tapes by Afghan and Hindi singers……he believed the performing of it best left to those with lesser reputations。 That she never sing in public had been one of the general s conditions when they had married。 Soraya told me that her mother had wanted to sing at our wedding； only one song； but the general gave her one of his looks and the matter was buried。 Khala Jamila played the lotto once a week and watched Johnny Carson every night。 She spent her days in the garden； tending to her roses； geraniums； potato vines； and orchids。
When I married Soraya； the flowers and Johnny Carson took a backseat。 I was the new delight in Khala Jamila s life。 Unlike the general s guarded and diplomatic manners……he didn t correct me when I continued to call him General Sahib ……Khala Jamila made no secret of how much she adored me。 For one thing； I listened to her impressive list of maladies； something the general had long turned a deaf ear to。 Soraya told me that； ever since her mother s stroke； every flutter in her chest was a heart attack； every aching joint the onset of rheumatoid arthritis； and every twitch of the eye another stroke。 I remember the first time Khala Jamila mentioned a lump in her neck to me。 I ll skip school tomorrow and take you to the doctor； I said； to which the general smiled and said； Then you might as well turn in your books for good； bachem。 Your khala s medical charts are like the works of Rumi： They e in volumes。
But it wasn t just that she d found an audience for her monologues of illness。 I firmly believed that if I had picked up a rifle and gone on a murdering rampage； I would have still had the benefit of her unblinking love。 Because I had rid her heart of its gravest malady。 I had relieved her of the greatest fear of every Afghan mother： that no honorable khastegar would ask for her daughter s hand。 That her daughter would age alone； husbandless； childless。 Every woman needed a husband。 Even if he did silence the song in her。
And； from Soraya； I learned the details of what had happened in Virginia。
We were at a wedding。 Soraya s uncle； Sharif； the one who worked for the INS； was marrying his son to an Afghan girl from Newark。 The wedding was at the same hall where； six months prior； Soraya and I had had our awroussi。 We were standing in a crowd of guests； watching the bride accept rings from the groom s family； when we overheard two middle…aged women talking； their backs to us。
What a lovely bride； one of them said； Just look at her。 So maghbool； like the moon。
Yes； the other said。 And pure too。 Virtuous。 No boyfriends。
I know。 I tell you that boy did well not to marry his cousin。
Soraya broke down on the way home。 I pulled the Ford off to the curb； parked under a streetlight on Fremont Boulevard。
It s all right； I said； pushing back her hair。 Who cares？
It s so fucking unfair； she barked。
Just forget it。
Their sons go out to nightclubs looking for meat and get their girlfriends pregnant； they have kids out of wedlock and no one says a goddamn thing。 Oh； they re just men having fun！ I make one mistake and suddenly everyone is talking nang and namoos； and I have to have my face rubbed in it for the rest of my life。
I wiped a tear from her jawline； just above her birthmark； with the pad of my thumb。
I didn t tell you； Soraya said； dabbing at her eyes； but my father showed up with a gun that night。 He told。。。 him。。。 that he had two bullets in the chamber； one for him and one for himself if I didn t e home。 I was screaming； calling my father all kinds of names； saying he couldn t keep me locked up forever； that I wished he were dead。 Fresh tears squeezed out between her lids。 I actually said that to him； that I wished he were dead。
When he brought me home； my mother threw her arms around me and she was crying too。 She was saying things but I couldn t understand any of it because she was slurring her words so badly。 So my father took me up to my bedroom and sat me in front of the dresser mirror。 He handed me a pair of scissors and calmly told me to cut off all my hair。 He watched while I did it。
I didn t step out of the house for weeks。 And when I did； I heard whispers or imagined them everywhere I went。 That was four years ago and three thousand miles away and I m still hearing them。
Fuck em； I said。
She made a sound that was half sob； half laugh。 When I told you about this on the phone the night of khastegari； I was sure you d change your mind。
No chance of that； Soraya。
She smiled and took my hand。 I m so lucky to have found you。 You re so di