Page 385 - Leadership in the Indian Army

is a painting of the poet Khaja Abdullah Ansary on the wall between the

beds. From the window, Laila has a view of the busy street below, and of
a park across the street with pastel-colored-brick paths cutting through

thick clusters of flowers. The children, who have grown accustomed to

television, are disappointed that there isn't one in the room. Soon

enough, though, they are asleep. Soon enough, Tariq and Laila too have
collapsed. Laila sleeps soundly in Tariq's arms, except for once in the

middle of the night when she wakes from a dream she cannot remember.

* * *

The next morning, after a breakfast of tea with fresh bread, quince

marmalade, and boiled eggs, Tariq finds her a taxi.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come along?" Tariq says. Aziza is

holding his hand Zalmai isn't, but he is standing close to Tariq, leaning

one shoulder on Tariq's hip.

"I'm sure."

"I worry."

"I'll be fine," Laila says. "I promise. Take the children to a market. Buy

them something."

Zalmai begins to cry when the taxi pulls away, and, when Laila looks
back, she sees that he is reaching for Tariq. That he is beginning to

accept Tariq both eases and breaks Laila's heart.

* * *

"You're not from herat," the driver says.