Page 115 - And the Mountains Echoed (novel)

She looks at him hesitantly.

“We have a neurosurgery clinic in my group. I’ll speak to my chief. We’ll
make arrangements to fly her over to California and have the surgery.”
“Yes, but the money.”
“We’ll get the funding. Worst comes to worst, I’ll pay for it.”
“Out of wallet.”

He laughs. “The expression is ‘out of pocket,’ but, yes.”
“We have to get uncle’s permission.”
“If he ever shows up again.” The uncle hasn’t been seen or heard from since
the day Idris gave him the two hundred dollars.

Amra smiles at him. He has never done anything like this. There is something
exhilarating, intoxicating, euphoric even, in throwing himself headlong into this
commitment. He feels energized. It nearly takes his breath away. To his own
amazement, tears prickle his eyes.
“Hvala,” she says. “Thank you.” She stands on tiptoes and kisses his cheek.
…

“Banged one of the Dutch girls,” Timur says. “From the party?”

Idris lifts his head off the window. He had been marveling at the soft brown
peaks of the tightly packed Hindu Kush far beneath. He turns to look at Timur in
the aisle seat.
“The brunette. Popped half a Vitamin V and rode her straight to the morning
call for prayer.”
“Jesus. Will you ever grow up?” Idris says, irked that Timur has burdened
him again with knowledge of his misconduct, his infidelity, his grotesque frat-
boy antics.

Timur smirks. “Remember, cousin, what happens in Kabul …”
“Please don’t finish that sentence.”
Timur laughs.

Somewhere in the back of the plane, there is a little party going on. Someone
is singing in Pashto, someone tapping on a Styrofoam plate like a tamboura.
“I can’t believe we ran into ol’ Nabi,” Timur mutters. “Jesus.”
Idris fishes the sleeping pill he had been saving from his breast pocket and
dry-swallows it.
“So I’m coming back next month,” Timur says, crossing his arms, shutting