a tell Rahim Khan that a judge had bought the land and that an architect was working on the design。 For now； the lot was bare； save for dirt； stones； and weeds。
I tore the wrapping paper from Assef s present and tilted the book cover in the moonlight。 It was a biography of Hitler。 I threw it amid a tangle of weeds。
I leaned against the neighbor s wall； slid down to the ground。 I just sat in the dark for a while； knees drawn to my chest； looking up at the stars； waiting for the night to be over。
Shouldn t you be entertaining your guests？ a familiar voice said。 Rahim Khan was walking toward me along the wall。
They don t need me for that。 Baba s there； remember？ I said。 The ice in Rahim Khan s drink clinked when he sat next to me。 I didn t know you drank。
Turns out I do； he said。 Elbowed me playfully。 But only on the most important occasions。
I smiled。 Thanks。
He tipped his drink to me and took a sip。 He lit a cigarette； one of the unfiltered Pakistani cigarettes he and Baba were always smoking。 Did I ever tell you I was almost married once？
Really？ I said； smiling a little at the notion of Rahim Khan getting married。 I d always thought of him as Baba s quiet alter ego； my writing mentor； my pal； the one who never forgot to bring me a souvenir； a saughat； when he returned from a trip abroad。 But a husband？ A father？
He nodded。 It s true。 I was eighteen。 Her name was Homaira。 She was a Hazara； the daughter of our neighbor s servants。 She was as beautiful as a pari； light brown hair； big hazel eyes。。。 she had this laugh。。。 I can still hear it sometimes。 He twirled his glass。 We used to meet secretly in my father s apple orchards； always after midnight when everyone had gone to sleep。 We d walk under the trees and I d hold her hand。。。 Am I embarrassing you； Amir jan？
A little； I said。
It won t kill you； he said； taking another puff。 Anyway； we had this fantasy。 We d have a great； fancy wedding and invite family and friends from Kabul to Kandahar。 I would build us a big house； white with a tiled patio and large windows。 We would plant fruit trees in the garden and grow all sorts of flowers； have a lawn for our kids to play on。 On Fridays； after _namaz_ at the mosque； everyone would get together at our house for lunch and we d eat in the garden； under cherry trees； drink fresh water from the well。 Then tea with candy as we watched our kids play with their cousins。。。
He took a long gulp of his scotch。 Coughed。 You should have seen the look on my father s face when I told him。 My mother actually fainted。 My sisters splashed her face with water。 They fanned her and looked at me as if I had slit her throat。 My brother Jalal actually went to fetch his hunting rifle before my father stopped him。 Rahim Khan barked a bitter laughter。 It was Homaira and me against the world。 And I ll tell you this； Amir jan： In the end； the world always wins。 That s just the way of things。
So what happened？
That same day； my father put Homaira and her family on a lorry and sent them off to Hazarajat。 I never saw her again。
I m sorry； I said。
Probably for the best； though； Rahim Khan said； shrugging。 She would have suffered。 My family would have never accepted her as an equal。 You don t order someone to polish your shoes one day and call them sister the next。 He looked at me。 You know； you can tell me anything you want； Amir jan。 Anytime。
I know； I said uncertainly。 He looked at me for a long time； like he was waiting； his black bottomless eyes hinting at an unspoken secret between us。 For a moment； I almost did tell him。 Almost told him ev