Page 34 of Kiss Her Goodbye (Frankie Elkin #4)

The first moment I see the badly beaten young man, my lungs cease to function. It can’t be. It is. It can’t be.

Farshid. My brother, my dear, dear brother…

Then he opens his dark eyes, and I recoil as if slapped. Not my brother, but Habib, our hotheaded cousin, who is close to Farshid in terms of age and features, but his exact opposite in everything else, including lacking all honor, loyalty, and kindness.

How did he survive? I thought all my uncles and cousins had perished. And why should Habib have survived when my brother was such a stronger, better man? The sheer unfairness…

I try to slip from the room unseen. I can’t afford for any of my father’s family to know I’m here.

Too late.

Through the swollen mess that is his heavily battered face, my cousin’s gaze latches on to me.

A second later, his entire expression changes from acute pain to sheer loathing.

His bruised lips are already muttering a string of obscenities.

Then, as his gaze slides down to my rounded belly…

his cursing stops. His sly, triumphant grin begins.

And I go blank with terror.

He fell climbing a tree, Habib mumbles to the nurse.

Or maybe he was trying to fix one of the broken overhead lights, or maybe there was a small disagreement between a couple of friends.

Like always, he plays it fast and loose with the truth, just as his father, Fahima’s husband, always did. Not that anyone here cares.

Last time I’d seen Habib, he was sitting at my father’s table, impeccably garbed as befitting a wealthy, entitled male from a noted family. Now, he definitely appears worse for the wear. Then again, so do I.

I stand back as far as possible while Dr. Richard sets one broken arm, two broken wrists.

He binds my cousin’s ribs, inspects his swollen eye for signs of more significant orbital damage.

Dr. Richard asks one of the nurses to administer fluids and painkillers; then when he remembers we are out of everything, he orders me to summon the ambulance instead.

I’ve already been told the quickest any emergency vehicle can get here is at least two hours.

Dr. Richard shrugs. There’s no choice then but to leave such a critical patient in one of our only exam rooms. A fox in the henhouse, I think as I keep my face carefully averted.

I return to the entrance, addressing families, passing along instructions. The clinic is full; we can’t accept any others. Here’s some aspirin, try to get your hands on some salt. Sleep, hydrate, rest. It’s the best that can be done.

I peek in on Malalai and Rafiq long enough to see them rocking Omid, the salt-water rag tucked pitifully between his blue-tinged lips.

Then Dr. Richard is back, his curly hair a disheveled mop as he surveys the chaos around him.

He glances at his watch, studies the ever-growing crowd of desperately sick and needy.

That’s it, he announces. Red patient must go.

He instructs me to clean him up; then we’ll move him outside till the ambulance arrives.

It’s not like there’s any additional care we can offer, and others still require attention.

Orders issued, he returns to the melee of crying children and moaning adults. He has his war. I have mine.

So I return to the exam room to discover my cousin has regained consciousness and is staring at me in open hostility.

I wipe the blood from his brow.

“It’s your fault they’re dead. Did you not think we’d figure it out? You fucking bitch.”

I dab at the bruise above his cheekbone.

“Two halves of one whole,” Habib snorts in derision. “You and your brother and your whore of a mo—”

I clap my hand over his mouth to prevent further words. Habib’s head thrashes beneath my palm. His nose is broken. It’s clearly hard for him to breathe.

He twists his head far enough to escape my palm. “Where is it? You must know it’s only a matter of time. Tell me everything, and maybe I can convince them to let you live.”

My saliva-smeared hand is still clutching his chin. “They’re dead. The Taliban are in charge. It’s over now.”

“Is that what you think?” A look of feral cunning crosses Habib’s face. “Countries fall. Governments change. But greed never ends. Where did you hide it?”

“In the end, you will be allowed nothing.” I shrug. “Were you able to get out with anything more than the clothes on your back? I thought not.”

“I don’t believe you! You were always smarter than anyone gave you credit for.

” Habib’s gaze focuses on my bulging stomach.

He smirks. “Though maybe not smart enough. You’ll never be safe here.

If I found you, so will the others. And they’ll be much less patient with their demands.

You want to live? You want to save your bastard child—”

I clamp my hand over his mouth again. My cousin squirms to escape.

And suddenly… I just know. Habib does, too.

I can see on his face the exact instant he realizes it’s no longer his place to threaten me.

That now, in these wretched circumstances, he’s the one broken and vulnerable, and I’m the one who’s powerful.

He stares at me defiantly as he begins to thrash more forcefully. I keep my palm slapped tight over his lips, using my index finger and thumb to pinch shut his already mangled nose. He screams, but the sound is trapped in his throat.

He’s right. If my uncles have discovered what I did and if even one of them or my cousins is still alive…

I use my growing bulk to my advantage, pressing down hard against my cousin’s struggling form. My hand is slimy, his will to live strong. But no matter how hard he tries to raise his hands to push me off, his injuries are too grievous, his body too weakened.

Habib’s legs kick. His neck bulges with his effort to escape. But I don’t let up. I push, I pinch. Push. Pinch. Push. Pinch.

When I was a girl, I dreamed…

Now I squeeze the final breath from my own cousin, my father’s brother’s son. Habib’s body has just gone slack, his legs fallen silent, when I hear a noise directly behind me. I quickly release his chin, then whirl around to find Dr. Richard watching me.

I wait for him to speak first. To say he witnessed it all, to ask me what kind of monster I’ve become. But his expression is grimmer than that. And then, I know.

Little Omid is dead.

Later, I stumble out of the clinic. It’s an hour before my official end of shift.

My cousin’s body had disappeared by the time I returned to the exam room.

Then the white-clad men had appeared for Omid’s tiny form…

And I just couldn’t take it one second more.

Dr. Richard said I could leave and so I did.

Now I walk. Not feeling my legs or arms. Not smelling the fetid odors of human sweat and raw sewage. Not noticing the slinking dogs or leering men. A dark-clad male halts in front of me.

I stare at him.

“My good sister, you should not be walking alone.”

I stare and stare and stare. Does he not know every woman in the world is alone, has always been alone, will always be alone? Does he not know, we expect it to be no other way?

Something in my expression spooks him. Maybe he can sense the rawness of my emotions, or the darkness of my deeds. He eases back into the periphery. I continue on, my bite-ravaged hand, scored by my cousin’s desperate teeth, tucked behind me.

I walk all the way to the little cabin where Isaad sits on our mat, his expression nearly childlike in its pained bewilderment.

I sit down next to my husband. I pull his head onto my lap.

I let his tears soak into my robes as he starts to sob, then wail, then rage at the heavens.

Why, God, why? He was just a little boy!

When will life have meaning again? Why, God, why?

I stroke Isaad’s hair, let him rail. My own eyes are dry, my grief contained, which is not how an Afghan mourns. Another sign I’m no longer the daughter, sister, countrywoman I used to be? Another sign I’ve become something so other, so alien, I’m no longer recognizable even to myself?

I think there are moments that cost you nothing and yet demand everything. I think there are choices that allow you to survive and yet eventually cause you to perish. I think I never want to feel this way again, and yet I will never feel any other way.

I am lost I am broken I am numb.

And then…

My water breaks.

Zahra, on that dark night you arrived into the world.

And I knew, from the first moment that I held you, that I would do the same all over again.