main office. I felt conflicted about the
apartment. I wasn’t crazy about living in a ground floor apartment, but the place
was clean, it had all of the amenities I was looking for, they allowed dogs,
and the rent was reasonable. I didn’t want to delay my decision too long and
risk losing the only decent apartment I’d seen. So I thanked Mickey for her
time, and I told her I would let her know my decision within the next
twenty-four hours.
Habib
studied me as we approached his cab. “You haven’t eaten, Kristine. Let’s take a
break and go to lunch.”
My
eyes widened when I glanced at my watch. I couldn’t believe it was already two
o’clock. My stomach growled its consent as I slid into the passenger seat.
“Sure, Habib. Where do you want to eat?”
Habib
smiled as he backed the car out of the parking lot. His teeth practically
glowed against his tan skin. “I know a good Afghan restaurant not far from
here. My sister, Diwa, works there.”
My
eyes met Habib’s. “I’ve never eaten Afghan food before. I’d love to try it, but
I may need some help ordering.”
Habib
chuckled as he eased into traffic. “I’ll make sure you sample all the best
dishes.”
I
leaned back against the head rest and closed my eyes while Habib drove. I suddenly
felt completely exhausted.
Habib
pulled into a parking lot next to a white stucco building with a red shingled
roof. The front of the restaurant boasted a long wooden deck, which had been
painted red to match the roof. A number of arches framed a walkway alongside
the building. Red neon signs hung in the windows.
The
restaurant staff greeted Habib like he was family, and they treated me like an honored
guest. Habib’s sister, Diwa, was breathtaking. She had the lightest green eyes
I’d ever seen. Her dark hair peeked out from under a delicate lavender scarf. I
was thrilled when she sat down and joined us for lunch.
The
waiter brought a steady stream of food to the table from the moment we arrived.
Habib recommended I start with some dumplings that were served with a meat
sauce, spicy yogurt, and mint leaves. The dumplings were divine.
I
would have been perfectly content eating the dumplings, but Diwa encouraged me
to try a pastry stuffed with potatoes and herbs. This, too, was served with a
yogurt sauce. The appetizers were followed by lamb kabobs and a dish Habib
referred to as Kadu Chalua, which I thought tasted a lot like pumpkin. Both
dishes were served with white rice. Another meat dish was loaded with carrots
and raisins. The food was unlike anything I’d ever eaten, but I loved how the
coriander, cardamom, cilantro, and mint played out on my tongue.
Habib
and Diwa told stories about growing up in Afghanistan. I could tell the two of
them were very close. They spoke fondly of their family and their childhood,
but their stories were based on the simplest pleasures. It wasn’t difficult to
imagine the hardships they’d faced as children.
I
was curious about how they’d come to live in Virginia, but I was hesitant to
pry. So I waited to ask until the meal was over. Habib was drinking coffee. Diwa
and I were drinking a cardamom laced tea. I cleared my throat, then directed my
question to Habib. “What brought you to Virginia?”
A
dark cloud passed through Habib’s eyes as he responded. “My father helped the U.S.
government in Afghanistan back in 2001 and 2002. The Taliban issued death
threats against my family when they learned my father was working with
Americans. The U.S. government offered my family special immigrant visas when
our lives were threatened and it was no longer safe for us to remain in
Afghanistan. Both of my parents, Diwa, my brother, and I moved here together. The
special visas did not extend to my aunts, uncles, or cousins, so we still have
family living in Afghanistan.”
I
pressed my hand against my chest as tears welled in my eyes. “I’m so sorry you
had to move because your lives were threatened. I can’t imagine how
apartment. I wasn’t crazy about living in a ground floor apartment, but the place
was clean, it had all of the amenities I was looking for, they allowed dogs,
and the rent was reasonable. I didn’t want to delay my decision too long and
risk losing the only decent apartment I’d seen. So I thanked Mickey for her
time, and I told her I would let her know my decision within the next
twenty-four hours.
Habib
studied me as we approached his cab. “You haven’t eaten, Kristine. Let’s take a
break and go to lunch.”
My
eyes widened when I glanced at my watch. I couldn’t believe it was already two
o’clock. My stomach growled its consent as I slid into the passenger seat.
“Sure, Habib. Where do you want to eat?”
Habib
smiled as he backed the car out of the parking lot. His teeth practically
glowed against his tan skin. “I know a good Afghan restaurant not far from
here. My sister, Diwa, works there.”
My
eyes met Habib’s. “I’ve never eaten Afghan food before. I’d love to try it, but
I may need some help ordering.”
Habib
chuckled as he eased into traffic. “I’ll make sure you sample all the best
dishes.”
I
leaned back against the head rest and closed my eyes while Habib drove. I suddenly
felt completely exhausted.
Habib
pulled into a parking lot next to a white stucco building with a red shingled
roof. The front of the restaurant boasted a long wooden deck, which had been
painted red to match the roof. A number of arches framed a walkway alongside
the building. Red neon signs hung in the windows.
The
restaurant staff greeted Habib like he was family, and they treated me like an honored
guest. Habib’s sister, Diwa, was breathtaking. She had the lightest green eyes
I’d ever seen. Her dark hair peeked out from under a delicate lavender scarf. I
was thrilled when she sat down and joined us for lunch.
The
waiter brought a steady stream of food to the table from the moment we arrived.
Habib recommended I start with some dumplings that were served with a meat
sauce, spicy yogurt, and mint leaves. The dumplings were divine.
I
would have been perfectly content eating the dumplings, but Diwa encouraged me
to try a pastry stuffed with potatoes and herbs. This, too, was served with a
yogurt sauce. The appetizers were followed by lamb kabobs and a dish Habib
referred to as Kadu Chalua, which I thought tasted a lot like pumpkin. Both
dishes were served with white rice. Another meat dish was loaded with carrots
and raisins. The food was unlike anything I’d ever eaten, but I loved how the
coriander, cardamom, cilantro, and mint played out on my tongue.
Habib
and Diwa told stories about growing up in Afghanistan. I could tell the two of
them were very close. They spoke fondly of their family and their childhood,
but their stories were based on the simplest pleasures. It wasn’t difficult to
imagine the hardships they’d faced as children.
I
was curious about how they’d come to live in Virginia, but I was hesitant to
pry. So I waited to ask until the meal was over. Habib was drinking coffee. Diwa
and I were drinking a cardamom laced tea. I cleared my throat, then directed my
question to Habib. “What brought you to Virginia?”
A
dark cloud passed through Habib’s eyes as he responded. “My father helped the U.S.
government in Afghanistan back in 2001 and 2002. The Taliban issued death
threats against my family when they learned my father was working with
Americans. The U.S. government offered my family special immigrant visas when
our lives were threatened and it was no longer safe for us to remain in
Afghanistan. Both of my parents, Diwa, my brother, and I moved here together. The
special visas did not extend to my aunts, uncles, or cousins, so we still have
family living in Afghanistan.”
I
pressed my hand against my chest as tears welled in my eyes. “I’m so sorry you
had to move because your lives were threatened. I can’t imagine how
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