Nadia Hashimi - When the Moon Is Low

After finding his way to the train station, Saleem looked for schedules and routes that would take him into France. He felt the eyes of a police officer on his back. In a moment, Saleem had expertly melted into the crowd, leaving the officer to shake his head and return to the opposite side of the station.

SALEEM GRAPPLED EACH DAY WITH THE POSSIBILITY THAT HE might not make it to England. Taken with his experience within the first few days of arriving in Italy, he felt desperate to try something. But he was tired — fatigued as if his veins carried lead instead of blood. He was tired of having nothing to eat and tired of worrying about money. He was tired of watching over his shoulder. Leaving Kabul may have been a mistake after all. Things might have gotten better.

Saleem did not hear the click of heels nearing him. He’d nodded off with his back against the side of a building. In the recessed streets of Italy’s capital, someone recognized his battered face.

“Saleem.”

He opened his eyes to spy two knees with scrapes like skid marks. Mimi crouched beside him, her voice hushed.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” His voice was low and insincere. He looked around.

“Are you alone?”

“Yes,” she said. “Burim is not here.”

His name was Burim.

“You are hurt bad? Oh, your mouth!”

“I’m all right. It’s better now.” Saleem admitted to himself that it was his fault he and Mimi ran into Burim that night and it was because of him that Mimi had been dragged away. From the looks of it, Burim hadn’t let her off easy. There was a bluish hue below her left eye and a small scab on her lip.

“I. . I am sorry, Mimi,” he said. “I did not want for you to be hurt.”

Mimi slumped to the ground and sat beside him. “I know. Burim is a crazy man. I know him. Nothing new.”

“You need to get away from him.” It seemed uncomplicated to Saleem. Why linger here when the money she earned was not hers and she lived in a perpetual state of fear? Why did Mimi not leave?

“I can do nothing. Not now. Maybe one day but now. . now I have no choice.”

They contemplated in silence, Saleem wondering why Mimi did not walk away today and Mimi knowing Saleem would never understand.

“I take you to the man now,” she said. “Maybe you can leave. You have better chance than me.”

“But Burim? What if he finds us again?”

“He is far now. He has two girls far from here. New girls. He go to meet them. We have time.”

He nodded and followed. While he did not feel up to the meeting, he wanted desperately to leave Rome. Mimi led him down the same streets, watching to be sure he kept up the pace. They reached an apartment building with a broken knob and first-floor windows taped together. Saleem shook his head, knowing he was ignoring his instincts by entering.

“Inside door, press for apartment B3,” Mimi instructed. “A man answer. He ask who you are and you tell him Mimi send you. Say you want to go to France and maybe he have job for you.”

“Tell your name?”

“Yes. This man, he not Burim friend. But you do everything he say. Everything, understand? He is dangerous man but possible he send you to France. You come here in two days,” she instructed specifically.

Saleem was relieved he had time yet before he was to meet Mimi’s contact though it was disappointing that it would be at least another two days before he could leave this city.

“What’s his name?” he asked. Mimi was already leading him back down to where they had come from. “What is this man’s name?”

“No name,” she said firmly. “No questions. He not like to talk.”

“How you know him?”

“He work with Burim one year but they fight for money. Now they not talk but I know man sends people from here to other countries. He tell you how you do.”

Saleem nodded, understanding some but not all. Mimi was neck deep in a world of unsavory characters. Saleem wondered if he was one of them.

Maybe I am like her. Like the people she knows. Maybe I’m not an innocent boy on the run anymore. Maybe if I accept that, I’ll be better off.

She walked ahead of him, her thin ponytail beckoning him to follow. Saleem, still sore, suggested they sit down and eat the half sandwich he had in his pocket. Mimi nodded up ahead.

“Come with me,” she said and he followed.

She led him back to a dimly lit, one-room apartment in a building not far from where she’d found him. A simple sheet covered a twin-size mattress on a metal bed frame. A lamp sat on a wooden chair, and two other chairs were up against the opposite wall. The walls, painted what was surely once an inspiring red, had cracked with time. The galley kitchen was a few feet away, divided from the main room by a half wall. The appliances looked rusted and unused. The door to the bathroom was half open, and Saleem could see a chipped porcelain sink and a narrow shower stall with blackened grout.

The apartment was in miserable condition and if Saleem had seen it before he’d left Kabul, he would have turned up his nose at it. But his perspective had changed. As Padar- jan often said, in the valley of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.

Saleem’s more pressing concern was whether it was a good idea for him to be here. Mimi looked over and read his thoughts.

“He will not come. Burim has new girl. He stay with her and come back in morning. The first night is very, very bad.” Mimi sat on the bed, and Saleem pulled a chair to sit across from her. He took the flattened sandwich from his pocket, unwrapped it, and offered her half. She took it from him with a soft thanks.

“You live here?” he asked.

She did. Her skimpy dresses and mesh shirts hung limply in the closet, looking as tired as she did. Mimi filled a glass of water from the kitchen tap, took a sip, and passed it to him.

The lamp did not provide much light, and the one window faced another building, not allowing for much street light to come in. Saleem sat forward in his chair. His knee grazed Mimi’s.

“I am sorry, Mimi. Burim hurt you too. You ask me to leave but I. . I am sorry.”

Mimi stared at the floor.

“Is okay. Forget it. He not change. He tell me I go free if I make money. I make money for ticket to Albania and I can go home. But now seven months and nothing. Other girls, they work two, three years. Nobody make enough money to be free. This is my life now. If you are here, if you are not here. . it is same.”

She looked up. Like the raindrops he’d watched on the car window, two tears slid down Mimi’s makeup-covered cheeks.

“But you. . you can go from here. Your family is wait for you and when they see you they will be happy.” Her eyes widened as she pictured open arms welcoming Saleem. She wiped away her tears and smiled weakly.

Saleem wanted to offer her the same encouragement. He wanted to give her the same kindness. He faltered, then reached out and put a hand on her knee.

“You are strong, Mimi. You’ll find a way. Something good come for you too. People help me to come here. You help me. God give the same help for you. Somebody will help you.” Saleem heard the hollowness of his words.

“There is no one to help me. He take my money. I know he never let me go. He control everything.”

Saleem felt his body tighten. Mimi, in all her frailty, still found a way to share. He could be more than what he was. Empty pockets did not mean an empty soul.

“He does not control me,” Saleem said. “Help me find Burim, Mimi.”

She covered his hand with her own and looked at him. She wanted to believe him, to believe every word of what he was saying even if only for a moment. She touched Saleem’s cheek. His stomach dropped to feel her cool, thin fingers on his face. She touched his other cheek and his eyes closed. He imagined Mimi of long ago, a young girl who smiled and laughed with her sisters. He pictured a girl unsullied. He pictured the girl she’d been before the world had crushed her.