A Cup of Friendship

by Deborah Rodriguez

  Yazmina’s eyes were full of tears. “What gave me away?” she asked. “How did you know?”

  “There was one small thing. And you’re doing it right now. Your hand. When the assistant to that terrible wazir said you could stay the night or two in the beauty school, you put your hand on your belly. Just like that. A woman like me, who’s never been hamla, would never hold herself that way. Only a woman carrying a life would hold her belly—”

  “With such love,” said Halajan.

  The three women stayed quiet for a while, and then Sunny asked Halajan, “So now what do we do?”

  “Well,” answered Halajan, puffing her chest out like a rooster, “lucky for you, and for you, Yazmina, I am a qaabela, a midwife. I used to help bring babies into the world. Hundreds in my life.” And then she looked at Sunny and said, “So, until it’s time, Inshallah, it is our secret.”

  A look of relief swept across Yazmina’s face.

  “But no one can know,” Halajan said. “Not another soul. This is very, very dangerous. Even a good man can turn bad in this situation. So it is agreed?”

  “Not a soul,” said Sunny. “But what happens when the baby—?”

  “That is another story for another day.”

  Then Sunny looked at Yazmina and saw that she was asleep. And she and Halajan tiptoed out of the room.

  When they returned to the café, Bashir Hadi was busy preparing coffee. And, then Sunny saw him. There, at his usual table, was Jack, sipping on a cappuccino and reading a newspaper, his legs crossed to the side of the table because there wasn’t the height underneath it to accommodate them. She exhaled loudly, as if she’d been holding her breath since he left, and told herself to walk right by him, to act naturally, to not be irrational. He’d been gone for two weeks, and seeing him made her want to sing. But she sure wasn’t going to show it.

  He ignored her, too. “Salaam alaikum, Halajan. Hope this beautiful morning finds you well.”

  “Wa alaikum as-salaam,” she answered with a broad smile across her face. “How was your trip? You’re still in one piece, I see.”

  Sunny grabbed a cloth, wiped the counter, put out two trays, and placed napkins, saucers, and spoons on them, stealing a glance at Jack. While she waited for Bashir Hadi to bring the cups, she noticed that Jack’s skin was tan from the winter sun, the gray at his temples more evident, the creases at the corners of his eyes deeper. It was as if the two weeks had been two years.

  Jack slapped his thigh. “All here. You know me, Hala. I’m not one to use a gun. I let the young, brave guys do that.”

  “No, but they can be used on you. I don’t know what you do, but it’s a relief when you come back.”

  “For me, too, I can tell you that. And you”—he turned to Sunny—“hey, you!”

  She finally smiled at him and he nodded toward the door. “Come on. I have something for you outside.” He stood. “Come on.”

  “That’s it? No ‘hello’? No ‘how are you’? Much less ‘I missed you and can’t believe I stayed away so long’?”

  “Shut up and come with me. I come bearing gifts. Actually, a gift.”

  She headed for the door, but Jack grabbed her arm. She felt her chest fill and her skin tingle.

  “Excited to see me, are you? Put something on. It’s freezing outside.”

  She grabbed her coat from the hook on the wall, and putting it on, she said, “What’s so big it has to be outside? I love gifts, but usually the very small kind that fit in a pocket.”

  “Like chewing gum?” Jack’s eyes twinkled.

  “Only if it’s diamond studded.”

  “Funny, you don’t seem like a diamond kind of girl.”

  “Where’d you get that idea?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, looking her up and down. “Maybe the hair, the jeans, maybe …” And with two long fingers, he gently lifted the cord holding her cellphone around her neck, and continued, “It’s the jewelry you usually wear.”

  She grabbed the cord away, letting the phone fall between her breasts.

  “Come on,” said Jack, “I have something so special, it will change your life.”

  “A motorbike!” She’d wanted one since she first came to Kabul. Tommy had promised to buy her one, but left before he did. Jack, of course, had told her she’d be an idiot to get one.

  “Would you just come?”

  She gave an exaggerated frown, crossed one side of her coat over the other, and held it closed. “Okay, okay. But if it’s not a motorbike … I don’t know …”

  He held the door open for her, and she felt the blast of cold air against her face. The sky was already blue, and the sun’s rays were reaching out to her over the courtyard’s walls. A glorious day! A present! And Jack was back! What could possibly go wrong?

  First she saw Ahmet, his eyes wide with fear. In his hand was a rope. And on the other end of the rope, sitting on the ground by the front wall, was a German shepherd, all hundred and fifty pounds, four legs, four paws, and one drooling mouth of him. A fucking dog! He must’ve seen Sunny’s expression because he started to bark at her. Ahmet jumped back, and then the dog turned to him and licked his hand.

  Ahmet wiped his hand on his coat with disgust.

  “Come, Poppy,” Jack called, and the creature loped over to him. Jack scruffed its head and scratched its ears. “Sunny, meet Poppy.”

  Sunny hated dogs. They were dirty, stupid, and demanded your love and attention, as if you had it to give to them. She turned around and headed back into the coffeehouse.

  “Wait,” Jack pleaded. “Just slow down there a minute. Let me explain.”

  She sighed, then turned to him and put her hands on her hips.

  “Poppy here is a trained police dog. She worked for years opium sniffing. Hence, her name. Now she’s older and it’s time for her to retire. But she’s too young to do nothing. She’d go crazy. She needs a job. And that job would be you.”

  “What the hell am I going to do with a dog?”

  Poppy barked several times, as if arguing for herself. Very loudly.

  “A dangerous dog.”

  “You’re going to take her driving. She’s going to be your driving dog. Your car canine. Your Mercedes mutt.” He laughed. “Your protective pooch!”

  “Stop, I beg you.”

  “Seriously, every time you drive around town, a woman alone, in a car, in a Mercedes, for God’s sake, even though it’s old, you’re risking your life. From now on, you take Poppy. When you take one of your walks, you take Poppy. Most Afghans, as you know, hate dogs—”

  “Maybe that’s why I feel such an affinity for the people.”

  “—and fear dogs. I’ve been sick with worry every time you go out driving. Well, now—”

  “So you’re actually giving me this old German shepherd—I mean, it’s not even cute—for you. So you won’t have to worry. Typical philanthropist.” She turned back to the door and yelled, “No thanks.”

  She couldn’t see that Jack had taken the leash from Ahmet, relieving him from a terrible duty.

  “Come on, look, Sunny,” Jack said.

  She turned back to him and Poppy came to her, her large paws prancing like a horse’s hooves, her tongue flopping out of her mouth, her ears pointed straight up. She stopped at Sunny’s legs and sat, looking up at her, panting, tongue out, mouth open, saliva flowing.

  Sunny petted her head. Poppy licked her hand. And Jack put his hands in his pockets, looking very satisfied.

  “So can I get some breakfast? I’m hungry and it’s cold out here.”

  “First, a test run.” Sunny looked from the dog to Jack. And then she smiled. “Let’s take her for a drive.” She ran inside for a minute and came back with a ring full of keys.

  Jack picked up Poppy’s makeshift leash and handed it to Sunny. “She’s all yours.”

  As they went out the front gate, Jack thanked Ahmet for watching her. Ahmet took a step back as they walked past him, but Poppy, apparently, had to thank him, to
o, so she rubbed against his leg and looked up at him with her tongue out and her tail wagging. Her love was unrequited, however, and Ahmet turned away from her.

  They walked around the outside walls of the house to the narrow alley where the car was parked. Sunny sat in the driver’s seat, Jack beside her, and Poppy in the rear. It was cold, but Sunny opened one of the rear windows and immediately, Poppy’s paws were up on the door and her head outside breathing in the lovely sewage-smelling Kabul air. Before pulling out, Sunny checked the rearview mirror and then the side.

  “Oh shit,” she said.

  “What?” asked Jack.

  “The mirror, it’s gone. Shit, that one is, too. For crying out loud.”

  Someone had stolen both side-view mirrors on the outside of the car, a nice little business in Kabul—second only to stealing cars themselves. Fortunately, Tommy had installed an uber-ignition on the car that required a jackhammer to get it going without a key.

  “I know how to fix this,” said Jack. “Make a left at the next alley.”

  “Where’re we going?” Sunny had to do a lot of head-turning and looking over her shoulder without the mirrors there to help. The streets of Kabul were not only a maze, they were lawless. Afghans drove on the right as in America, but all the double-parking, the passing, the lack of lanes or markings on the cobbled roads made driving safely a feat.

  “To get ’em back.” He smiled, as if he got a joke that nobody else in the room did.

  Sunny followed his directions, her Mercedes careening through the crowded, dusty streets, with Poppy’s huge head sticking out the side back window. People stepped back from the car when she stopped at a corner, kids playing ball pointed, old men crouching in their stalls shook their heads in dismay.

  Jack took her to the outskirts of town, where the narrow streets gave way to wider roads with low gray houses on either side, rubble and rocks in between, goats braying and children playing, the smell of sewage that reeked in the center of the city changing to a mix of dust and animal odors and smoke from the fires burning in the homes to keep them warm.

  He directed her onto a road that seemed to head straight up into the mountains, but then he had her stop a hundred feet in. “Here,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  He put Poppy on her leash, got her out of the backseat, and led her and Sunny down a dirt embankment and across a wooden plank, with no rails to hold on to, where a river or a sewer once was, to a wide plain where metal shipping containers were lined up end to end. Some had Chinese writing on them, some Arabic, some Russian. On top of them were piles of old car parts, tires, and other unidentifiable paraphernalia. Everything seemed to be covered in soot, filthy. Surrounding them were old cars, with men inside, sipping tea. One old station wagon was open in the back, and three guys, wearing the tan-colored shalwaar kameezes, with woolen coats and gray turbans, were hanging out, sitting on old car seats, and eating something.

  Sunny felt as if she were on another planet.

  But Jack said, “It’s a tailgating party!”

  The men looked up at the couple. They stood up when they saw the dog. Each pulled his gun from over his shoulder and pointed it at Poppy.

  “Hold on a minute, guys,” Jack said to them in Dari, sounding like an Afghan himself. He showed them the car; they said they had mirrors that could work, then dug around in the pile and held up two mirrors.

  “These would work,” they said. The head guy didn’t take his eyes off Poppy, who was looking very serious, her policing instincts coming back to her.

  Of course they would work. They were Sunny’s mirrors. Jack was negotiating to buy back the very mirrors that had been stolen from her car.

  “What a racket,” Jack said as he got in the car, putting the mirrors down between them. “But ingenious. And Poppy, good girl. What an animal.”

  “Oh yeah,” Sunny said sarcastically, “the next time my mirrors get stolen and I have to buy them back, she’ll be very helpful.”

  They got home, Jack screwed the mirrors on, and once back in the courtyard, Sunny said, “Okay. I’ll give the mangy mutt one week. But if she does anything bad—bites someone, eats something she shouldn’t, does her business somewhere she shouldn’t, she’s gone.”

  “Okay,” said Jack.

  “Okay?” Sunny asked Poppy, as she held her hand under her muzzle, lifting her face to hers. “So how about some breakfast?” she asked Jack. “It’s cold out here.”

  When they walked into the coffeehouse Halajan screamed.

  Sunny laughed. “It’s all right, Hala. This is Poppy, our new dog. You can thank Jack for this lovely gift.”

  “There are no four-legged creatures in the coffeehouse! If you must keep it, keep it out back, like a goat or a horse.” Halajan was both angry and afraid. She lingered in the corner. “You Americans—”

  “What?” interrupted Sunny, teasingly. “What about us Americans?”

  “You live with dogs, you sleep with dogs! It’s crazy.” She was wringing her hands, her face in a disgusted grimace. “It’s like they are the princes and you the animals. I hear that in some cities in America, the people even pick up their dog’s dirt and carry it in a bag.” She shook her head. “Is this not the truth?”

  “I’m on your side,” said Sunny.

  Jack laughed. “It’s the truth. But Halajan, dogs, you will find, are …” and then he began to speak in Dari. Sunny tried to keep up. He was telling Halajan that dogs are clean, loyal, and protective. He told her about Poppy’s background and how he got her for Sunny because of the car, but that the coffeehouse could use all the protection it could get. Then he made a joke about how if it didn’t work out, she could always cook Poppy up and serve her to the plumber who overcharged her, and Halajan laughed so hard, she bent over.

  Then Jack pulled out his cellphone from his pocket and said, “Got a text.” He read it and turned to Sunny and said, “You know what? I gotta go.” He walked to the café’s door.

  “Really?” she replied, following him. “Why? What’s so important on a Thursday, the day before Juma, the Sabbath? Huh?” She poked at his chest with her index finger. “What is it?”

  He turned serious. “I have to call my son.”

  “So call him from here. Where’s your cell?”

  “Nah. You know, I like to talk where it’s quiet.” And then he spoke loudly, “Away from all you nuts.”

  “Uh-huh,” Sunny said. “Keeping us a secret?”

  She immediately blushed, wishing she could take the words back.

  “Ach, come on,” he demurred. “He may have heard from some colleges this week.”

  “Oh, well, I’m sure he’ll …”

  “Yeah, well, he wants to go to Michigan, like his old dad.”

  “Good school.”

  “Yeah, and Ann Arbor is a nice place to live. But it’s hard to get in. Not like when I was a boy. Hell, I got in. Proof of how easy it was.”

  “Yeah, you got in.” She sounded so stupid, but this entire conversation was making her feel uneasy because it hit a nerve. She’d never gone to college and she always felt embarrassed about it. Not something she liked talking about.

  “It’s just that his mom, well, she wants him to stay closer to home. Virginia, somewhere near D.C.”

  “How, um, is his mom?”

  “She’s good. I think. I mean, it can’t be easy. I mean, you know what I mean, being a woman alone, waiting for your husband—”

  “I’m not waiting for my husband.” She sounded defensive.

  “All right. Don’t get your panties in a twist. You’re not waiting for your husband. You’re waiting for your boyfriend.”

  “Hey, I’m not waiting. I have a life.”

  “So does she. But …” His voice trailed off.

  She waited a moment, giving him time. But when he said nothing further, she asked, “So, why are they there and you’re here?”

  “Why are you here and Tommy’s out there?” He nodded toward the door.

  “We’re
not married and we don’t have a kid. And we’re in the same country. Your family is halfway around the world.”

  Jack put his hands in his pockets and looked out the window.

  “Well, answer me,” Sunny said. “Why are you here and they’re there?”

  “Hey, I just got you a great old dog to protect you. You should be nice to me.”

  “I didn’t ask for it.”

  “Yeah, well, you need it.”

  “How the hell do you know what I need?”

  “You need somethin’, baby, and when I’m gone—”

  “When you’re gone? And don’t call me ‘baby’!”

  Jack grinned. “What I meant was that I have to go back to the States. Not today, not tomorrow, but sometime soon.”

  “Well, don’t worry about me.”

  “You can take care of yourself. That’s what I love about you. Sunny can always take care of herself.”

  “You love that about me, huh?”

  “If we’re being literal again, that’s one thing I like about you. And that you’re as stubborn as an ox and about as strong, too.”

  “Really? What else?” She heard the words come out of her mouth but didn’t believe it was really her asking them.

  He looked at her for a long time, and then he said softly, “How you pretend to be tough even though you’re not. How you’re stingy with nice words but have a big, open heart. I just love that about you. That’s the sad damned truth and the real thing that’s making me so mad.” He touched her hair with two fingers.

  She pulled away out of reflex and put her hands on her hips.

  “So go already,” she said softly, “call your son.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Not if I see you first.”

  “What are you, twelve?”

  “Yeah, going on thirty-eight.” She grinned.

  “Gee, I wouldn’t have put you past thirty-seven.”

  He was close to her now. She could see flecks of black in his eyes. “Would you go already?” She said it as if it were a command.

  “You be nice to Poppy.”

  “Yeah. I’ll treat her like a … dog.”

  And then Jack bent toward her and before she could pull away, he kissed her on the cheek.