The Secret Sky: A Novel of Forbidden Love in Afghanistan (19 page)

FATIMA

The morning sun rises over the mountains shooting its light into the cave. The brightness hits my eyes, waking me. My head is still on Sami’s chest; it feels so hard and warm. I look up and see that he’s still sleeping. His perfect lips are slightly parted, letting out small breaths that create a cloudy mist when they mix with the cold air inside the cave. I can hear the thumping of his heart. I close my eyes and take in the perfect rhythm.

Dum-dum . . . dum-dum . . . dum-dum . . .

It’s one of the most beautiful sounds I have ever heard. I can’t believe I am here in Sami’s arms as his wife. For a moment, I allow myself to forget that we are in a cave, in the middle of nowhere and on the run. For now the fears and doubts from yesterday have disappeared, and I thank God for letting me be here, listening to the drumming of his heart. I feel comfortable knowing that Mullah Sarwar married us by the hands of God. I’m grateful to him for confirming that our feelings are not wrong, for making me cherish the memory of last night’s kiss. I feel my heart flutter, recalling Sami’s lips on mine. I’m happy, so happy right now, knowing that he is my husband and not Karim.

“Fatima, are you awake?” Sami whispers.

I look up at him and realize I have been grinning this entire time. But I am no longer shy about my joy in having him near. So I keep smiling. “Yes, I’m awake.” Sami beams back at me and brings me in even closer with a gentle hug.

“Good morning,
azizam,
” he says and kisses the top of my head. We sit in silence for a while longer, enjoying the moment. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” I say, feeling the emptiness in my stomach. I would have said no to keep us in this position just a bit longer, if it weren’t for the fear that my stomach would start making noises soon, mortifying me in front of him.

Sami gets up and tucks the blanket completely around me before walking toward the supplies Walid left for us, rubbing his hands to keep warm. He unwraps a sheet and pulls out some bread and two oranges.

We feast on the fruit, bread and some dates. The temperature in the cave is still chilly but becomes bearable as the sun continues to rise.

“Looks like we need more water,” Sami says, turning over the empty plastic bottle. “I can go out and search for some.”

“No, don’t go. It’s too dangerous. What if someone sees you?” I’m frightened at the thought of being alone in this desolate cave.

“I won’t be long, I promise,” he says. “I think I saw a small spring not too far from here when we came. And I need to get us some branches or dried grass to burn if we are here another night. I don’t want you freezing to death. We have a new life to begin together.” He smiles and grazes my face with his warm hand, making it tingle.

“But I thought Walid would come get us today,” I say.

“Hopefully he will. But we can’t be sure. If they’re being watched, they’ll wait,” he says. Yesterday’s worries begin creeping back. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine. I’ll take care of you.” His smile makes me feel at ease again. “Try to rest some more. I’ll be quick.” Sami picks up my hand and kisses it before looking back at me with his crooked smile. My heart races. I can’t believe he is truly my husband. He reaches the opening of the cave and turns to look at me again. “
Dostit darom,
” he says, before running off.

“I love you too,” I say, knowing he is already gone. “I love you too!” I scream it this time, and I cannot stop grinning.

•   •   •

I’m not able to get back to sleep after hearing Sami’s words again. I knew he cared for me. And deep down, I knew he loved me. But now that he’s said it, it feels like so much more. I’ve smiled so much with memories of last night and this morning that my face is beginning to feel sore. But I don’t care. After all the pain of the last few days, it’s so good to feel joy again. The dark clouds have parted, and hope is shining through. Even though I’ll miss my family, I know I have Sami, and that makes everything okay.

To pass time, I get up and shake the blanket, trying to get the dirt from the cave floor off of it before folding it up and taking it to the box Walid left for us. He tied as much as he could to the back of our bicycle before walking us here. A walk that took us at least two hours in the early evening; the only glow lighting our way was the star-sprinkled sky.

I look in the sheet Sami opened earlier and find more bread and fruit—apples, oranges and some bananas. I tie the embroidered white fabric tight, protecting the food from the dirt. I open the box and find matches, a knife and some papers. I put the food into the plastic box and close the lid, placing the blanket on the seat of the bicycle.

I walk to the opening of the cave to see if Sami is nearby. I step out and look at the beautiful landscape of mountains. From here, it looks like there is no end to the stunning hills painted by God in the most striking colors. Some are light brown, dried from the sun’s rays. Others are green with the grass that grows from rich black soil. And some are a rustic red, like the feather of a rooster. Seeing the rocky peaks reminds me of a joke my father once told me: “While God was making the world, he carefully placed his rocks in different countries. Giving everyone the perfect amount. Then he dropped what was left over in Afghanistan.” I always smiled when he told us that joke, but now it makes my heart sink, reminding me of how much I miss him. The sadness that overcomes me makes it difficult to enjoy the beauty anymore. I take one last look around for Sami, but I don’t see him.

I walk back into the cave and try to make myself think of something, anything else to get my mind off of my family. The family I shamed. The family I left behind. I see a small stone and pick it up. I scratch it on the surface of the cave wall and see that it leaves a white mark. So I decide to write out the alphabet and practice my schooling. If Sami and I can get to Kabul, perhaps I can go to the schools there after all.

I scrape the stone on the hard wall and write the letters one by one.

I make it through the entire alphabet, and I am very pleased with what I have done. I take the plastic box and put the blanket on top, making myself a cushioned seat. I decide to read the letters over and over, and configure them into words.

As I keep reciting the words, I hear the crunching of footsteps approaching the cave. Sami is back! I don’t want to look silly, so I keep studying. I know Sami isn’t like one of those men Zohra was talking about; he’s happy that his wife can read. The footsteps multiply as he gets closer. I freeze. It’s more than one pair of feet making the noise. I hear voices now too. The voices of men. I scramble, looking for my
chadari.
I finally spot it behind the box and quickly drape it over my head so it covers my body. I run to the farthest end of the cave, taking the box with me. I position myself where the bicycle is leaning against the wall.

Why would Sami bring people back with him? Is he okay? Was he spotted? Could it be Walid or someone else that Mullah Sarwar has sent? My heart races with fear. This isolated cave suddenly feels as exposed as our village homes. I rummage through the box, pull out the knife and clench the cold steel handle in my fist.

Through the small pinholes in the blue covering, I see the men approaching. I can’t make out their faces as their shadowy figures now block the opening. I search for Sami in the group, but I can’t see if he is with them. Instead, I see men carrying long weapons. And the fear I so easily let go of this morning comes flooding back, engulfing me.

Where is Sami?

Will I die here alone without him?

SAMIULLAH

I use my thumbnail to cut the last flower and add it to the pile I’ve stacked on the ground. The purple and white wildflowers strewn throughout the valley look like a drawing, but they are not as striking as Fatima. Knowing that she’s my wife now, that I’ll have her with me for the rest of my life, makes me happier than I have ever been. I hope these flowers are nice enough to make her smile.

It’s the least I can do after ripping her away from her family. My grin fades when I think of how disappointed I am in my father for not siding with me on this. I had thought he was better than that. If he had accepted us together, he could have made Mohammad Aaka agree to it. Fatima’s father is a good man—I know he would have come around if my father had.

I shake my head. That’s our past life. It’s not worth thinking about anymore.

I pick up the flowers from the ground, adding them to my latest bundle and breathe deeply. The scent is intoxicating. It smells like my childhood, like running around in the fields with Fatima. I hope she thinks so too. I mix in the dried weeds I found to burn if it gets too cold later. I haven’t been able to find any wood in this rock-strewn terrain, so the weeds will have to do. I use my free hand to grab the bottle I filled with water from the spring and start walking back.

As I approach the valley where our cave is, I see a green pickup truck parked down the hill from our hiding area and start to panic. I sprint closer, but don’t see anyone. The writing on the side says
POLICE
. I peer inside the dusty window and see empty leather seats. I take a look in the bed of the truck and see more seats. I swing my head in every direction, trying to get a better look at the hills and mountains to see where the police from this vehicle have gone. But the valley is as empty as it was when I left, except for the truck. I can hear my heart racing as I look up at the cave. Have they found her?

I begin to run, sliding on the gravel, kicking up dirt and pebbles. I catch myself from falling and use my hand to push up and forward into a fast sprint.
God, please let her be okay! Please don’t let them have seen her.
Strange men finding a woman alone can only bring trouble here. It doesn’t matter that it’s the police. It’s often worse when it’s them! My mind races with stories of policemen who have raped women and children in various parts of the country, using their authority as impunity from law and morals. I read about them in the papers when I was in the
madrassa.
And I was told by our religious teachers to never trust the government. That’s the one thing I learned there that I held on to. I feel sick to my stomach and run faster than I have ever run before.

I get to the entrance to the cave out of breath but full of force. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust from the brightness outside to the shadows of the cave.

“
Asalaam aleykum.
” I hear a man’s voice. My eyes focus, and I see two men sitting next to the wall. The same wall Fatima and I slept against last night. I dart my eyes to the other side and see Fatima wearing the blue
chadari.
I run to her.

“Are you okay?” I ask. Fatima nods, but I can tell, even through the blue fabric, she is shaking. “Everything will be all right.” I reassure her, but I don’t know if I’m lying.

“
Wah wa!
What beautiful flowers he has brought for you,” the man says. I dart my head back at him and notice the officer to his right laugh, as he keeps his perverse eyes on Fatima. “You are a very lucky woman!”

“Who are you?” I ask with annoyance.

“Isn’t it obvious?” the chubby officer on the left says as he puts a half-eaten date back into its box. He puts his hand to his green hat, tipping down and then back up. “We are the police. But the real question is, who are
you
?” He pops the date into his mustache-covered mouth and tosses the box to the side.

“My wife and I are just passing through,” I quickly respond, glancing at Fatima. “And I don’t appreciate strange men walking into our place of rest while I’m not here.” I look back at him, eyeing him with contempt.

“Calm down, my dear brother. We are not here to bother you or our sister,” he says, gesturing at Fatima. I adjust my body to block her from their unfamiliar eyes. “We’ve patiently been waiting here for you. Your wife hasn’t said much to us, but she did let us know that you would be coming back. We didn’t mean to offend you.” The officer wipes his mouth and then nose with the back of his hand. “We’re the police, not your enemy. There has been a murder in a nearby village, and we’ve been searching the area for the killer. I’m sure you had nothing to do with it, but we wouldn’t be doing our jobs if we didn’t ask you some questions, right?”

I nod my head at him but can’t stop looking at the thinner one, who is staring at Fatima with snake eyes. They look bloodshot and dazed, like the men in town who smoke hashish from morning to night. And the only thing I see in them is deviance.

The officer who has been talking to me notices that I’m no longer looking at him and turns to his colleague. He slaps him on the back of the head. “
Boro berun, Fahim!
” he yells, telling the degenerate to leave. “Wait at the car until we are done!”

The stumbling officer can’t be more than a few years older than me. His hat falls off during his tottering, revealing disheveled, greasy hair.

“
Ahmaq!
” His superior curses at him as he picks the cap up and exits the cave. “I’m sorry for his behavior.”

“
Tashakur,
” I manage to say to the officer with the thick, bristly mustache.

“There is no need to thank me. I’m sorry,” he says again, looking genuinely embarrassed. “They send me these useless recruits, and I try to train them, but it’s hard to teach a man like that.” He lets out a sigh. “My name is Commander Ahmadi.”

“I am Samiullah,” I respond. “Can you please ask your questions and leave us?” I have no choice but to be abrupt. These men obviously do not care that they have invaded my wife’s privacy.

“Yes, yes,” Commander Ahmadi says. “Where were you yesterday?”

“We were traveling from our village and stopped here for the night. We were going to leave soon,” I say.

“So you didn’t pass through the nearby villages?” he asks, raising a furry eyebrow that perfectly matches his mustache.

“Yes, we passed a few, but we couldn’t tell one from another,” I lie. “Who has been killed?”

“A mullah. His name was Mullah Sarwar,” he says, making my heart rise up to my throat. The commander fixes his eyes on mine, and I try my best to stay composed.

“How did this mullah die?” I ask, averting my eyes from Commander Ahmadi’s.

“He was shot and then hung.” I feel my stomach clench with nausea. “They put a paper in his pocket with the word
traitor
written on it.” The commander shakes his head.

It had to be Latif and his men. Men who include my cousin Rashid now. They killed the mullah because of us . . . I fight down the bile threatening to rise in my throat.

“It’s a shame. The mullah was a good man. I knew him. Looks like this was the work of criminals. We don’t think it is the Taliban. Even the Taliban liked Mullah Sarwar—well . . . for the most part. We are still investigating.”

I hear Fatima sniffle. A noise that doesn’t go unnoticed by the commander.

“Did you know him?” He looks at Fatima and then at me.

“No. We’re from a faraway village,” I lie again and pray God will forgive me. We can’t afford to be held up any longer. They found Mullah Sarwar and killed him for helping us. If those bastards can kill him, they will definitely kill us too. I can’t let Fatima die. I won’t let her die.

Fatima sniffles again.

“Are you sure you didn’t know him?” the commander asks, looking back and forth at the two of us. Thank God the blue cover is hiding Fatima’s sadness. For the first time, I wish I had a
chadari
so I didn’t have to mask mine.

“We did not know him,” I say, looking him in the eye. “I’m sorry, my wife is quite sick, and we need to leave soon to try and find her a decent hospital. Are you finished here?”

“Forgive me, I didn’t know she was sick,” he says. “She’s barely spoken since we arrived. Where do you need to go?”

“We are heading to the big city to find a good hospital.” I stand up in an attempt to get him to stand as well. And he does.

“We can take you to the provincial capital, if you’d like,” he says, looking at Fatima and me. “We figure the killer has left the area or is hiding in villages we won’t be able to enter because they are under control of the enemy.” He puts his head down in shame.

If we did go with him, it would make our journey much faster. My plan was to get to Kabul, but any big city would be better than staying here. I don’t think Walid will be coming back for us any time soon, and we can’t risk being captured by the same criminals who killed Mullah Sarwar. I feel my heart aching again, thinking of his death. Shot and then hung. These are sick people. But then I remember that drugged-up officer with twisted eyes who is with Commander Ahmadi. His sinister stares are enough to make my decision for me. I don’t want him anywhere near Fatima.

“We’re fine, thank you,” I finally say.

“Okay, if that is what you want. But be careful out there.” Commander Ahmadi winks at me and then puts a hand over his heart. “Thank you for the delicious dates.
Khuda hafiz.
”

“Good-bye,” I say, putting my hand over my heart as well.

I walk him to the end of the cave and watch him as he starts down the hill. I make sure he is far enough away before running over to Fatima.

“Are you okay?” I ask as I lift up her
chadari.
I see her tearstained face. She’s gripping tightly on to the knife from the plastic box Walid left us. “Fatima, it’s okay now.”

“I . . . I . . . didn’t speak . . . My accent . . . They will know . . . I’m Hazara, you’re Pashtun,” she manages to say, through more tears. “Mullah . . . Sarwar . . . was killed.” Her wet eyes look as big as I’ve ever seen them as she stares at me, still frightened. I loosen her grip on the knife, throwing it to the dirt floor. I pull her close for a hug, and her arms wrap around my back, pressing me in. I kiss the top of her head.

“I know. I’m sorry,” I say feeling a tear fall from my eye and roll down the side of my face. I feel the guilt taking over. Even if I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger, I am Mullah Sarwar’s murderer. It is because of me he died and because of me that his family will suffer.

“I love you,” I whisper as I kiss Fatima’s head again, trying to comfort her.

“I love you too,” she says through her whimpers. And as much as my heart is breaking right now, her words seem to help.