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enough for Abdul too and he would collect his plate and eat in his room.
    She put her knife down as soon as she saw us and opened her arms for an embrace. “You’re back! What happened at the ministry? What did he want?”
    â€œEverything was fine, Maadar,” I said, falling into her arms. “They summoned several of us journalists. Yasir was there. Apparently my name is still on some old list—I shouldn’t have been summoned, I think.”
    â€œBut what happened?” she pressed. “Are you okay? I’m so glad you’re home safe.”
    â€œYes, I’m fine! It was an announcement—apparently the government is trying to correct its image problem.”
    â€œDon’t be so glib. You aren’t going to write anything, are you?”
    â€œOf course not.” I saw Wahidi’s gun again, felt his cigarette smoke stinging my eyes. The silence pressing down on me. He wanted me to understand that he controlled my life, that he could impose his will on my body and my mind. He was trying to imprison me in the burka, in my home, and in my thoughts. I would stick to my vow and not write another word until I left, but only to ensure our safety.
    â€œThey’re going to promote cricket.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œThe Taliban. Wahidi. He’s going to hold a tournament in three weeks and the winning team will go to Pakistan to train professionally.”
    â€œCricket! Of all things.”
    â€œFor men only, of course. I’m going to teach Jahan and our cousins to play and win. Once he’s out, he can join me in the States.”
    â€œYou’re making it sound so easy.” She frowned, mulling over our plan. “And if they lose?”
    â€œThen I’ll send for him when I’m with Shaheen,” I added with forced cheerfulness. “Of course, I’ll only leave when you’re well again and you will come too.”
    â€œThat may not happen,” she said quietly. “But it will make me so happy knowing you’re both together,” she said and smiled. “I was depressed because with you gone too, who would look after him here?”
    I put my arm around her shoulders and felt her trembling. “Don’t you think you should be resting? I can do the cooking.”
    â€œWhile I feel well, I want to cook. You do it every day. We need more vegetables for the quorma and a few pieces of chicken. Give Abdul the money.”
    I left her in the kitchen, humming to herself, without pain for this brief moment.
    Outside the kitchen, Jahan stopped me and threw his arms around me. For the first time since his return to Kabul from Delhi, he looked, and even felt, exuberant.
    â€œI’m leaving, I can’t believe it!” he whispered.
    â€œYou haven’t won the match yet. There’s a long way to go. You’ll have to apply for a U.S. visa in Pakistan before you can get there.”
    â€œWe will win, with your coaching. I’m sure there’s no one else in Kabul who knows cricket as well as you.”
    â€œWe’ll have to see,” I said, hoping he was right. “I was so worried about how you would leave, and now you will. You could be out even quicker than me.”
    â€œI’ll wait for you in Pakistan so we can travel together.”
    â€œNo, you must go on to the States as soon as you can to join Shaheen. I won’t be far behind.”
    â€œYou must write to him and get things in order—who knows how soon . . .” His voice trailed off.
    I nodded and swallowed, holding back the tears—it had been such a long day.
    â€œI wrote to him two weeks ago,” I said. “I don’t know what’s taking him so long to reply. He said he was starting a new job in a bank, so maybe that’s keeping him busy. I suppose it takes time for the papers to be prepared. I will write again.”
    â€œAnd this time ask him to send us the name of the smuggler who helped him. He