“Amrika,” they said in unison. “May Allah bless you for your goodness.” Elsa sat quietly as they each took her hands and kissed her cheeks.
Parween fidgeted with her turban.
“Tell me about Mariam’s life here before the Taliban came.”
“It wasn’t all bad,” the old woman said. “Though Mariam worked hard, she spent time at the washing stream, even when she had no wash, and she told funny stories that made us all laugh. She told us about her childhood friend who could count and fight the boys, and who one day threw a young boy right into the washing stream in Bamiyan!”
Parween laughed out loud.
“I had forgotten all about that. Ahh, he deserved it. I’d do it again.”
The women grinned. “Mariam was a good girl. Even Omar-Saeed’s first wives began to understand that after a while. Right before the Taliban came, things were a little better for her.”
The youngest woman, her cheeks red with the heat of the fire, spoke up.
“Mariam was always so kind to me. I hated the bite of the cold water in the washing stream, and Mariam helped me with my washing. She never complained, never told me to just do it, as others did.” She looked at the old woman. “She was very kind.”
“She was,” Parween said. “No one hated the sting of that cold water more than Mariam did. She must have liked you very much.”
The young woman’s cheeks burned redder, and she looked away.
A weight of worry lifted from Parween as she sat with the women in the little cave and listened to their stories. Finally, Elsa looked at her watch and announced that they had to go.
“The bus will be leaving soon.”
The old woman wound a piece of twine around Mariam’s clothes and passed the bundle to Parween, who hugged her.
“Besiar tashakore. May Allah the Most Merciful bless all of you for your kindness.”
Elsa donned the burqa once again, and they set off back down the rocky hillside and into an unexpected gust of wind. The surrounding trees rustled in response. Parween hesitated, a sudden knot of fear bursting through her brief moment of joy. She looked around. Just ahead, Elsa had stopped and was rearranging her burqa. Parween reached for her front pocket, her fingers searching for the knife she carried. Satisfied that it was there, she moved along, urging Elsa to hurry, uneasy until they reached the safety of the bus.
Once they’d boarded and taken their seats, Parween breathed a sigh of relief.
Elsa, who had been stunned into near silence by the day’s events, took her hand. “Thank you for letting me come here and share this day with you.” Her eyes filled up and she continued. “I wish I’d known her.”
“Oh, Elsa, she would have liked you,” Parween said, her fear all but forgotten. “And she would have loved your lipstick.” She gazed out at Mashaal as the bus pulled away from the village. “I never thought I would have another friend like her.” She paused and looked at Elsa. “Until I met you. Thank you for coming with me today.”
Quiet tears spilled from Elsa’s eyes, unseen through the burqa’s grille. “Thank you, Parween.” She reached out and squeezed her friend’s hand.
Parween sat back and let relief sweep over her. Her baby was safe.
Once she arrived back in Bamiyan, Elsa, still clad in the burqa, headed to the clinic, where she hoped to attend to an hour or two of long-neglected paperwork before dusk. As she neared the entrance, she noticed Mike’s jeep. Dave sat inside, cradling his rifle. Mike was nowhere to be seen. Dave looked somber, and Elsa moved closer, forgetting that he would have no idea it was her under the burqa.
She hesitated before drawing up the garment.
“Dave, it’s me, Elsa.”
Dave looked stunned.
“Elsa! Where’ve you been? Mike’s been frantic with worry.” And with that, he raised his radio and spoke into it. “Mike, that item you been missing is here with me.”
The radio crackled with the reply.
“You sure? I’ll be right out.”
Moments later, she heard Mike’s questioning voice behind her.
“What the hell?”
She turned, and Mike breathed a sigh of relief, though his voice still trembled.
“Jesus, you scared me. Where were you? Never mind that, you’re okay then?”
“I’m fine. I went to Mashaal with Parween. You’re going to meet her tonight at dinner. Anyway, she had to go there on a family matter, and I went with her.”
“You went to Mashaal?”
Elsa nodded, smiling.
“We’re in a war zone, Elsa. I carry all of these weapons for a reason. You cannot run around like you’re at home. Jesus, do you know how dangerous this place is?”
Elsa took a step back, surprised by his anger.
“But I was disguised. No one could tell I wasn’t an Afghan, and besides, I had a great day. I met some wonderful women and I just… I just had a great day.” She stared at him questioningly.
“You cannot forget, even for an instant, where we are. We aren’t playing dress-up.”
“I do know where we are, Mike. I don’t carry a gun, I carry a stethoscope, but I sure as hell know where I am.”
Mike’s expression softened.
“Do you know how easy it would have been for someone to recognize that you’re not an Afghan and just grab you? Do you know how quickly you could have been captured or killed? I didn’t even know you were gone till I went to the house and Amina tried to explain. We’ve been looking for you all day.”
“You have to trust that I can take care of myself. I’m not going to put myself in risky situations. Believe me.”
Mike reached out and touched her face. “Everything here is risky—everything. This is a dangerous place, and I was worried as hell. Just promise you won’t go off like that again.”
The flush of anger that had welled up so quickly in Elsa began to ease. “I won’t. If you’re still coming to dinner tonight—and I hope you are—you’ll see my Afghanistan. Good friends and gentle people.”
A smile crept onto his lips. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything, but I am bringing my gun.”
Oh God, Elsa thought, he is a soldier first. But he’ll see—I’ll show him the Afghanistan I know.
The evening was warm, and they dined in the courtyard, sitting cross-legged on the ground. They ate with their fingers, sharing bowls of rice and a plate of beef kabobs. The naan was warm, and they dipped it into the freshly churned bitter yogurt that Amina had prepared for their special visitors.
Elsa had wanted to invite Sidiq too, but Hamid warned her against it.
“Just wait, Elsa. He intends to speak with Amina’s brother. It is best that they not be together again until then. Her brother might not understand.”
The dinner was a success, everyone chattering at once. Hamid was especially pleased to meet the soldiers, and Mike in particular.
“I think that I would like to be an engineer like you. Is it a very difficult course?”
“Hamid, it’s like anything. You gotta put some work into it, but it gets easier and easier and—maybe more important—it’s fun. I think you’d like it. As long as I’m here, I’ll be glad to help you with your studies.”
Elsa felt such affection for Mike as she watched him that her cheeks flushed. He glanced at her just then and winked, and her face turned hotter still.
Dave shared stories of his Texas home; his wife, Lisa; and his two children, who were still so young that he worried they might not remember him when he finally returned home. When he spoke of them, his perpetually animated voice slowed and cracked.
“My wife’s a nurse like Elsa here, and I hope y’all get to meet her someday. God, I miss her and the kids.” He was lonely for all things home, and they urged him to talk.
“Well, my life’s exciting to me, but I can’t much see how y’all would find it interesting.”
“But Mike says you’re a detective; tell us about that.” Elsa encouraged him.
“Well, I guess I
do have some funny stories. I caught this burglar once only ’cause he stayed to eat.” He laughed at the memory. “The guy broke into a house, cleared out all the jewelry and money he could find, and instead of making a quick getaway, he stopped to eat a plate of warm brownies on the kitchen table! A neighbor saw him in the house and called us. We walked in on him while he was sitting there chewing. He would have gotten away if it weren’t for those brownies.”
Elsa looked at Mike, who wore a bemused expression.
“I wish I had something interesting to tell you, but I don’t. At home, I’m an engineer, and while it’s exciting to me to see a bridge or road built, especially one that I designed, that’s not near as exciting as detective work.”
He paused and looked straight at Elsa.
“But seeing the good that Elsa does has made me think that maybe after I’m done with soldiering, I could build those roads in a place like this. Maybe even work with her someday.”
His eyes locked onto Elsa’s, and she could hardly contain the smile that swept over her face. It wasn’t just the working together but the done with soldiering that made her smile. It felt for a moment as if they were alone.
Parween nudged her and Elsa, still smiling, composed herself and changed the subject.
“Parween has two children, even younger than yours, Dave. A boy and a girl.”
“You got any pictures?” Dave asked as he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a worn photo. He passed it to Parween, who ran her fingers over it.
“It is beautiful. I wish I had a likeness of my husband and my children to carry with me.”
“Hey, I got a camera with me—well, not with me, back at the house,” Mike said. “I’ll give it to Elsa and she can take your pictures.”
Parween grinned excitedly. “Tashakore, Mike, tashakore.”
Long after the sun had set, Amina finally stood to announce that the evening was over. Elsa rose and walked Dave and Mike to the gate. Dave kissed her cheek.
“Good night, darlin’. I had one hell of a good time tonight.” And he headed off to start up the jeep, leaving Mike and Elsa with a rare private moment.
Mike took Elsa’s hands and caressed them as he planted a kiss on her open mouth. “I’m sorry for being such a jerk earlier, but you did give me a scare. I’ve been expecting that we’d have plenty of time to be together. But for that to happen, you have to stay safe. You can’t forget where you are. Promise me—no more trips.”
Elsa nodded. No arguments tonight, she thought. “I promise,” she said, and she kissed him again.
Mike got into the jeep, and Elsa watched as it made a U-turn in the tiny road and headed toward the safe house.
She stood against the gate until the jeep had vanished into the night. She folded her arms across her chest and wondered what Parween would say to a man’s warnings not to travel.
PART
4
Choices
23
Commotion outside the clinic interrupted Elsa’s work one afternoon, and she looked through the doorway searching for the source. A frantic voice filled the air and she stopped to listen. It was Mike, of that much she was certain.
“Get Elsa!” he yelled again as she hurried toward the clinic gate. Oh God, what is it? she wondered. It was then that she saw him—covered in blood and dust, and carrying a small package. Her heart pounded as she ran, and it wasn’t until she reached him that she saw the bundle he held was a bleeding, crying child.
“Take him, Elsa. Help him. We shot him.”
Elsa reached for the small boy and looked questioningly at Mike. “What happened? Are you hurt too?”
“No, just him. He was in the line of fire. We’ll talk later, just help him. Please.”
Elsa could see the worry etched on Mike’s face, and clutching the wailing child close, she turned and raced for the emergency room, yelling for someone to get Ezat. He appeared just as Elsa laid the small boy on the stretcher.
“He’s been shot,” she said as she cut the boy’s clothes away to search for the wound.
Ezat shook his head. “How?”
“The soldiers. I don’t know anything else. Let’s just help him.”
Elsa reached for an intravenous set and held the boy’s arm tightly as she guided the needle into his vein.
The child’s cries grew louder as Ezat poked and prodded the bullet hole.
Elsa stroked the boy’s forehead. “Tars na dori, do not be afraid.”
But she was afraid. Mike had shot a child?
The boy grabbed Elsa’s hand and squeezed as Ezat continued to examine his leg.
Finally, Ezat looked up and smiled. “It’s only a thigh wound. It looks as though the bullet went right through. We can sew this up and have him home in an hour.”
A flood of relief washed over Elsa as she turned and reached for a small suture tray.
Just then Hamid, his breathing heavy, burst through the door. “What is it?”
“A gunshot wound,” Ezat replied, pointing to the boy’s leg.
“Shot himself, hmm?” Hamid glowered at the boy. “That will teach him.”
“No,” Elsa said. “The soldiers accidentally shot him.”
Hamid looked at Elsa. “Mike? Is that why he’s here?”
“I don’t know,” she answered. “I don’t know what happened.”
“Go, Elsa,” Ezat said. “I’ll sew him up. Tell your soldier the boy will be fine. He must be worried to have stayed.”
Elsa nodded and hurried out to Mike. She saw him by the gate as he spoke into his radio, the boy’s blood staining his shirt and his hand hovering protectively over his holster. When he saw Elsa, he put the radio down and turned to her.
“Is he okay?” His voice cracked as he spoke.
“It’s just a small wound,” Elsa said. “What about you? What happened?”
“A firefight due north. The kid ran right into the line of fire. Jesus, when he went down, I almost lost it. I ran out and scooped him up. Chief’s gonna chew me up for that.”
“Are you okay?” Elsa touched his arm.
“Yeah. I just never shot a kid before. I mean, I’d shoot a bad guy in a heartbeat, but a kid—” He shook his head.
“He’s fine. You probably saved him.”
“I guess. It’s just that… well, I know that’s why I’m here, to get the bad guys. It’s just that sometimes it’s a tough call. Hell, Elsa, I’d shoot your friend Hamid if I thought he was a bad guy, but a kid, well, that’s tough.”
Elsa froze. She couldn’t have heard that right. “You’d shoot Hamid?”
“We’re talking hypothetically here, but if he were a bad guy, you bet I would.”
“You wouldn’t hesitate?” She clenched and unclenched her fists, holding them tight at her sides.
“Elsa, I’m a soldier. There’s no room for hesitation.”
She felt herself stiffen, her heart pounding. “But maybe there should be.”
Mike shook his head, his eyes heavy. “Elsa, you don’t understand.”
She looked away.
He gripped her shoulder tightly for an instant before turning and pulling himself into his jeep. “The boy’s dad will be here soon. Chief wouldn’t let me take him in the jeep, but he’ll be along shortly. I gotta go. We have a debriefing, and then Dave and I are heading out on patrol. We’ll be gone a few days.”
He paused as if waiting for her to say something, but Elsa was silent. The only sound was the rumble of the jeep as it pulled away.
Elsa turned and watched him go. “Be careful,” she whispered.
Elsa could barely look at Hamid the rest of that day. He was like her brother, and Mike had just said he would shoot him. Now she felt as though she’d somehow betrayed Hamid.
When the clinic closed, she walked home in silence alongside Hamid.
“Why are you so quiet? Is it the shooting?” he asked.
“I guess,” she answered, picking up her pace. She was eager to get home and just be alone.
/> At her house, she brooded, barely speaking until Amina finally asked, “Che’ast?”
Elsa just shook her head in reply. Of all the things she’d worried about with Mike, this hadn’t been one of them. How could she tell her friends that Mike would shoot Hamid? God, she thought, he’d probably shoot all of them.
She kept to herself for days, mulling over Mike’s words, trying to understand. But, try as she might, understanding wouldn’t come. An aching disappointment settled in her bones, and with no word from Mike, it festered and grew. She swept and reswept her dirt floors, rearranged the books in her office, and started working on overdue reports, but nothing eased her mood. At the clinic, she was quiet. Even Ezat had stopped to ask if she was all right. “I’m just tired,” she’d replied, not wanting to tell anyone about Mike’s comment.
Where was he anyway? Surely, he was back by now. Didn’t he want to explain himself? Talk to her? Where was he? His absence only served to increase her misery, her conviction that he was not the man she thought he was.
After endless days and nights of solitary discontent, she thought she’d explode. She had to speak to someone. So almost a week after she’d last seen Mike, Elsa hurried to Parween’s house. Once she told Parween what had happened, she paused and took a deep breath.
“I haven’t seen him since, and maybe the decision’s already made for me, but I just don’t know about him, about us. If he would shoot Hamid, would he shoot me?”
Parween shook her head. “What nonsense you speak, Elsa! Your words are foolish. Mike is a soldier. I understand that, and so should you. If Hamid was Taliban and threatened my family, I’d shoot him myself!”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do. You’ve been lucky, Elsa. You don’t know war or misery.”
“But I do. I’m from a really poor section in Boston. I know it’s not as bad as it is here, but there is trouble.”
Parween rolled her eyes. “And there is gunfire?”
“Sometimes.”
“And you’ve lost people you love to this war?”
“Well, in a way. My sister and my brother. It’s a different kind of war, but it still brings misery.”
Lipstick in Afghanistan Page 20
