Page 83 of What Remains

“No.” Baba’s voice:There, there, dry your eyes.“The bee was only sleeping. I didn’t believe my father, but then he blew on it, very gently. All of a sudden, the bee moved. It straightened out its legs and its antennae wiggled and then off it buzzed.” Poya pause. “I guess that was about as close to a real-life fairy tale as I ever got. That garden, my parents.”

He was quiet a moment. “I’m sorry about your father. Your mother, too.”

“I know you are.”

“He was a good man, a good friend. I didn’t know your mother as well, but I visited your father several times, you know. Many times, just to talk.”

“Yes.” Poya debated a moment then said, “I remember when you once did.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” Poya told him about the night on the landing. “You looked right at me, but I kept very, very still. I remember closing my eyes and thinking,don’t see me, don’t see me.”

“It must’ve worked. I didn’t. So,” he said, his tone changing ever so slightly, “youknewabout your dad. Of course, you had to because…” In the window, Poya saw his reflection touch a finger to an eye. “You were smart to hide the color, that extra pupil.”

“Yes. My parents’ idea and then when we had to leave, I knew I would need more. I’d already been in my father’s secret room. It was actually very easy to find.”

“Oh?” He cocked his head. “Why? And what made you think to look?”

Poya held up two fingers. “One was when he told me to never go in. That didn’t make sense. It wasn’t like he was a mad scientist or something. I was curious. Then, the evening you left, you asked my father how some person would recognize him. That’s when Baba said he would be the one with the black glasses and blonde hair and as if he hadn’t worked out in a while. Then it was just a question of where he might keep his disguises.”

“Which made you think of the study? Just because you weren’t allowed in?”

“No, I had to think about it awhile. One afternoon, though, I was in the garden, and I noticed how my father’s study didn’t line up with the house. The wall at the end was too thick and so I wondered if there was another room there.” Poya shrugged. “Basic geometry. One afternoon when no one was around, I went into his study and walked around a little bit, knocked on walls.Then I noticed this book on the shelf that I thought might either have a key inside or, you know, hide some mechanism.”

“Oh? What was special about the book?”

“It was the only book whose spine wasn’t broken.”

“Meaning it hadn’t been read.”

“Yes, but it had been moved. I knew because you could see that the dust around it had been disturbed. So, then I pulled the book out a bit. There was this loud click, and then a whole section of the wall slid to one side.”Just like one of Baba’s movies.

“What was the book?”

“The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”

“Two halves of the same person.” He nodded. “Appropriate.”

“Yes.” One look at faces and noses and wigs and, best of all, those small cases of eyes of many colors…Poya knew Baba was a master at hidingwho he truly was. “I recognized you again, you know. When you drove us to the farm.”

“I wondered why you were so comfortable,” he said. “You didn’t clam up. Most kids do, with strangers.”

“Don’t feel bad. Adults are like that. They miss what’s right in front of their nose all the time simply because they don’t expect to see anything.” Poya paused. “Or are taught not to see. Like girls, women. Why do you think men in Afghanistan don’t want to hear a woman’s voice? Why do you think some men reduce a woman’s view of the world only to the rectangle that a burqa allows?”

After a small silence, he said, “You don’t have to do that here. No strings attached either. I promised your father I would look after you and your mother, and I keep my promises.”

Well,Poya thought,better late than never.“I know.”

“But it bears repeating. You are my ward, and this is your home now.” He spread his hands to take in the room. “This is your space. You will go to school, you will make friends.Someone might break your heart. It will feel like the end of the world, but it won’t be. When that happens, I hope you’ll tell me.”

“Afghanistan already broke my heart.” Now, Poya did turn. “My world already ended once.” Twice, counting Mami. “If I lived through that, I will live through anything. But you know what I worry about? Other kids my age. I’m only fourteen, but I feel…old. As if all the things an American teenager worries about are just so trivial. Even the way I talk and think, I just don’t see how I’m going to fit in.” Poya paused. “Or I evenwantto. I feel…separate. Apart.”

“Give it time. For now, let yourself settle in. Give yourself the freedom to simply be.” He paused at the door, his hand on the knob. “Look, you need to know that I won’t force you into anything. I mean, into my line of work, your dad’s. Driver’s, for that matter, or the work his men do.”

“The work they do for you?”

He shook his head. “No,withme. We’re a team. I’m not saying you wouldn’t be a valuable asset. You have unique talents. Being a polyglot is only one. You’re smart, you’re brave. If you do decide that you want to follow in your father’s footsteps or mine, well, I won’t stop you.” He paused. “ But I won’t encourage that either. You are fourteen and you deserve a chance to grow into yourself. You are my ward, not a weapon and not a tool.”

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