Page 14 of What Remains

“And then what? Where do I go?” He couldn’t possibly negotiate the mountains on his own. “I’ll have to come back to Kabul anyway. Doesn’t it make more sense for me to go with you?”

“No. You don’t have the luxury of that much time.” Mami paused as if to allow that to sink in. “Kabul will be much more dangerous. More Taliban about, more prying eyes and wagging tongues.” At the expression on his face, Mami’s expression softened. “I could be wrong, of course.”

He knew she wasn’t. No arguments could change that fact either. But the thought of trying to find his way on his own was almost more terrifying than what he knew was going to happen if he did nothing.

There was also no point asking what she would do once in Kabul. She must know some of Baba’s old…well, you couldn’t call themfriends,could you? Not if they’d never arrived to help them.Handlers,yes. He’d heard spymasters’ underlings referred to that way in a movie in Baba’s collection. The film was a very old one about a spy in a divided Berlin. Something about the cold? As he recalled that story ended badly because the spy fell in love. Love made you do stupid things.

So did blind faith. If Baba hadn’t found his handler, just how did Mami think she stood a chance? That was the thing about adults. They often thought doingsomethingwas better than being still and watchful and patient.

On the other hand, the reality was as plain as the face he must hide.Hewas the impetus behind all this. If not for him, Mami would probably stay put. No one had discovered her thus far. The chances were excellent they would never ask. Although would the Taliban allow her to keep teaching? Perhaps not. The Taliban never had gotten this far from Kabul before. That fact was the reason his father had sent them here to Ibrahim. Sarhad was a contingency, a place that was supposed to be a safe harbor to wait out the storm. Baba couldn’t have known the storm would sweep through the whole country.

“So where, Mami?” he asked. “Where do I go? Herat? Try to find your relatives? Mami, I have never met them.” Besides, would her relations still be alive? If they were, would they be willing to take him in if he appeared without his mother? “Even if I did that, I still would be in Afghanistan, which we’ve agreed is no choice at all, not for me. That leaves only trying to cross into Pakistan or India.”

“Thanks to your father, you have a passport for both countries. You have one for Tajikistan,” Mami said. “He put by the cash for each country.”

“Which will run out eventually. Mami, even with the correct passport and papers, there will be no one to claim or speak up for me. There are no American aid agencies operating in any of those countries. We have no friends there. I have no way of even figuring out how to find Baba’s American or someone who worked with this American and might help me.”

“You could go to the American embassy in Pakistan or Tajikistan. You might even go to India.”

“And say what? Mami, I don’t know what the American’s real name is. Do you even know?”

He watched her debate how much she should say. “Yes. That is, I know what message I was to send and to whom.”

“A coded message?”

“Yes.”

“To?”

Her teeth snuck out to chew her lower lip. “Do you remember Mr. White?”

Ah. I thought as much.“I remember.”

When he said nothing more, she studied his face. “You knew.”

Not a question. “I had a suspicion.”

“Because?”

“Of what we talked about.” Which he didn’t want to get into now, so he said, “When you followed Baba’s instructions to come here, how long were you supposed to wait?”

Her eyes slid to stare at her feet. When she replied, her voice was meek. Or, perhaps, ashamed? Embarrassed? “Two months. Three, at most.”

“Threemonths?” She couldn’t have surprised him more if she’d slapped him. “Mami, we’ve been here for almost a year and a half! Why did you wait? We could’ve gone together to India or Pakistan, or back into Herat to find your family.”

“Please.” She raised her hands in a weak, warding-off gesture. “I don’t know. I made a mistake. I thought, Ireallythought Mr. White would keep his word and was only delayed.”

Delayed for almost two years?That wasn’t a delay. That was more a kick aimed at a stray dog. “Mami, without you, I’ll wind up in a refugee camp.”

“You will be alive.”

“Yes, alive butalone.” He didn’t add that if he chose that route, he wouldn’t even be who and what he was now. He would have to shed his masquerade, eventually—and then what? His prospects were even worse. If he did rid himself of the face he presented every day to the world, then his only true option was India. There, he might stand a chance. Now, he understood why his father made him sit through endless Bollywood movies.Most followed the same mind-numbing script of melodramatic meetups with more than the occasional large-scale song and dance numbers that made his head hurt. But he had learned the language well enough.

“I wish I had all the answers,” Mami said. “I don’t. All I can tell you is to make the choice to live. If I don’t return?—”

Her face blurred. “You’ll come back,” he said, blinking against a sudden sting. He couldn’t afford the luxury of tears. Tears were a problem. For him, tears gave true credence to the old saw about crying your eyes out. “You have to.”

“I will try. But if I don’t return, you must choose life.” Taking his face between her hands, she kissed his forehead. “Choose life,” she said again. “Go and live, any way and any place they will let you.”

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