Andrea Busfield - Born Under a Million Shadows

“I’m praying for you,” I whispered to Georgie the next morning over breakfast after a night of terrible worrying.

She looked up from her eggs and smiled. “That’s nice, Fawad, thank you.”

I shook my head. She so didn’t get it.

Also joining us for breakfast that morning was Haji Khan, who walked down from his bedroom looking like he’d just got off a film set. His face was relaxed and handsome, and his light gray salwar kameez was covered by a darker gray sweater that looked as soft as clouds.

I watched him carefully, looking for signs of more hot words during the night, but if he was worried about losing Georgie he appeared to be putting a brave face on it—although I did notice he was teasing her a little more than usual, as well as kissing her ass with compliments that made her cheeks red, and holding eyes with her more than was strictly allowed in our society.

As I watched, I prayed inside my head that Haji Khan would try to change his ways, as he was always promising to do, because I was sure that if he really tried, and if he could charm the birds from the trees like my mother said, he could easily make Georgie take Islam to her heart. He just had to love her enough—and phone her more often.

After breakfast, two cups of tea, and four cigarettes, Haji Khan disappeared from the house in a cloud of dust thrown up by his three Land Cruisers, and Georgie headed back upstairs to take a shower, so I passed the rest of the morning in the garden with Ahmad, who had arrived shortly before his father left. Together we teased the fighting birds that sat in little wooden cages around the edges of the lawn as Ismerai watched us, smoking.

I was itching to talk to Ahmad about Georgie and his father, but I couldn’t. Although we all knew what the two of them were up to, it couldn’t ever be a matter for discussion because that would be like accepting it, which we couldn’t really, because we were all trying to be good Muslims and, more than that, pretending our friends were good Muslims too. And I couldn’t talk about Georgie being a total unbeliever because it was too shameful for her and I had at least to try to protect her from the bad thoughts everyone would surely have of her if they knew the full horrible truth. So we basically talked about all the creatures we had burned using the force of the sun and broken glass.

As Ahmad was telling me about the time he had seen a scorpion commit suicide—someone had placed it on a metal dish set on top of a fire, and realizing it had no chance of escape, it turned its tail on itself and stabbed poison into its body—a car horn beeped outside the tall gates, which were quickly opened to allow a black Land Cruiser with an eagle painted on the back window into the driveway.

“Ah, my uncle returns,” Ahmad said by way of explanation, getting to his feet.

As the car doors opened, a man much smaller than Haji Khan got out of the front seat and moved toward Ismerai, who was nearest to him. He took his hand, smiling wide and revealing a dark hole where one of his bottom teeth had once sat.

“Welcome back, Haji Jawid,” Ismerai greeted him.

“Thank you. Is my brother here?” Haji Jawid’s face was clean-shaven and pinched at the cheeks, as if he was sucking in.

“No, he’s out,” Ismerai told him, “taking care of some business.”

“I see.”

Haji Jawid’s eyes, which were as hollow as his cheeks, moved to the steps at the front of the house where a smiling Georgie had appeared. He returned her smile, but because I was standing close to him when he turned I clearly heard him mutter to Ismerai, “I see my brother is still busy with his whore, then.” Ismerai quickly looked in my direction, his face closing in a frown, but he said nothing so I moved forward in anger.

Ahmad caught me by the hand before my foot was even able to take one step. “Leave it,” he whispered as Haji Jawid moved across to the house, where Georgie held out her hands in welcome. And I did. But I heard polite laughter come from their direction as they touched, and it made me even angrier because Georgie would never have talked to him if she knew what he really thought of her.

“I’m sorry about that,” Ahmad said, letting go of my arm. “He didn’t know you were a friend of Georgie’s. He probably thought you were a friend of mine.”

“That’s hardly the point, is it?” I asked.

“No,” Ahmad admitted. “What he said was unacceptable, but what can I do? He is my uncle.”

“And does he talk of Georgie like that to Haji Khan?”

“No, of course not,” Ahmad replied, shocked. “He wouldn’t dare.”

After Haji Jawid arrived we all gathered to sit in the warmth of the house because the cold wind of Kabul had now drifted over to Jalalabad and it covered our bones with an unhappy feel that came with Haji Khan’s brother. As the adults talked in the raised room, I watched from the sides on one of the white sofas with Ahmad, who, I was happy to find out, didn’t seem to be a fan of his uncle.

“He’s the reason my father was in a bad mood,” he explained. “The police had him for most of yesterday.”

“Why? What had he done?”

“Who knows? But whatever it was, I heard it cost my father a lot of money to get him out.”

I nodded at the information and felt the warmth of new friendship rush in my blood because of it. It was unusual to hear someone speak of their relatives in such a way to a complete stranger and I guessed Ahmad must really hate his uncle—which was good, because I did too.

“By rights, my uncle should be the head of the family,” Ahmad continued. “He’s older, you see. But he didn’t fight against the Russians or the Taliban, and he was in a Pakistani jail for years for killing a man. He brought a lot of bad things to our family’s door, so when my grandfather passed away it was my father who stepped into his shoes. Haji Jawid hates that, you can see it in his face, but there’s nothing he can do about it because it’s my father who has the support of the family and the respect of the community, it’s my father who is called on to fix disputes, and it’s him, not Haji Jawid, who keeps the family together and helps the poor. All Haji Jawid does is spend the money my father gives him.”

As the adults sat chatting, a line of men with large stomachs ballooning under their clothes drifted in and out of the house to slap Haji Jawid on the back and laugh together in quiet corners of the room; but although the buzz of easy conversation filled the hall, it felt like we were all waiting for something. And when the metal gates screamed outside and the Land Cruisers roared into the drive to begin their dance on the grass, I realized what it was. Haji Khan.

As he swept into his house, everything went still, as if the very room was holding its breath. I watched as his brother got to his feet. The laziness instantly slipped from his smile, and his eyes moved nervously around him as he watched Haji Khan greet the guests who had arrived at the house to swap talk with Haji Jawid. After greeting Georgie with a formal handshake because of the number of men now in the room, Haji Khan turned to his brother and nodded his head toward a room across the hallway. Haji Jawid dropped his eyes in respect and allowed his brother to lead him away from the group. We all watched as the door closed behind them.

By the look on Haji Khan’s face, his brother wouldn’t be cracking any more jokes tonight.