“Oh, that’s enough already! I don’t want to hear more. Some assistant you are. Useless!” she said, throwing her hands in the air. She grabbed her handbag and stormed out. When I heard her footsteps moving away, I crept to the door and put my ear against it. I could hear her speaking to Hassan and Maroof, their heavy voices echoing in the hall.
“She’s not going?”
“No, she says she’s not well. I suppose we should just let her stay here. I’m not staying with her, if that’s what you are thinking. I’ll hear it from the director if I miss another session.”
“Agh. This girl’s nothing but trouble,” Maroof said.
“Just take her. I’ll stay here with this one,” Hassan offered reluctantly. “The last thing we need now is for Abdul Khaliq to hear we left her alone in the hotel.”
“Fine.”
I heard the metal of the chair scraping against the floor. He was going to stay at his post down the hall. My chest felt heavy with anticipation.
I took a deep breath and went back to the bed, pulling my duffel bag out from under it. My hands dug through the dresses until I found what I was looking for. I thanked God I’d brought it along, even if I hadn’t anticipated wearing it. I changed quickly, a small thrill running through me. I went back to Badriya’s bag and rifled through it until I found the scissors she kept with her sewing supplies. To the bathroom again, where I looked at my reflection and finished what my husband had started. Snip, snip, snip. It was badly uneven but better than what Abdul Khaliq had done.
I put my sandals on and considered my duffel bag for a moment. From the back, it might give me away. I decided against taking it and sat down to calm my breathing.
It took five minutes of intent listening at the door to convince myself no one was approaching, especially Hassan. No thump of his heavy foot or whistle of his raspy breath. I imagined he’d probably gone out for a smoke.
My fingers touched the knob and closed around it slowly. I turned, still keeping my ears perked.
I looked out through the crack, opened the door wider when I was certain I’d seen no one. And wider yet when I worked up the nerve to walk into the hallway. I craned my neck to see where the chair usually sat.
Hassan’s back. I took a deep breath and turned to the right, to the stairwell. I closed the door as silently as I could behind me. I moved one foot in front of the other, walking past the four doors between me and the end of the hallway. I was so focused on listening for the sound of Hassan moving that my left sandal caught on the carpeting and I stumbled, catching my balance by grabbing the doorknob of the next room.
I held my breath when I heard the scraping of the metal chair legs.
“Hey!”
I froze, keeping my back to Hassan. I was sure he could see my whole body quivering even from a distance.
“Watch your feet, you klutzy kid!” he called out.
I nodded and grunted something in a voice deeper than my own but barely audible.
“Boys running around in a hotel…,” I could hear him muttering as I resumed my trek to the stairwell. With each step I waited, waited for the moment when he would realize that the boy he saw was actually a girl in Hashmat’s new clothes, the pants still unhemmed.
I was and then I wasn’t. I was Rahima. And then I wasn’t.
I walked through the lobby, keeping my eyes lowered. The man from the front desk was nowhere to be seen. I moved quickly. I opened the door and sunlight tickled my eyes. I lifted my hand and blinked. When my sandals hit the dirt road I scanned the street to make sure I recognized no one and that no one recognized me. My eyes fell on a sparrow, nimbly passing between tree branches and chirping as earnestly as the birds over Jahangir’s grave. Pray for me too, I thought.
Rahim wound in and out of the streets, heading further away from the hotel and in the opposite direction of the parliament building. Rahim, the bacha posh, listened for someone yelling behind him, listened for a sign that he’d been spotted, that he was going to be dragged back to Abdul Khaliq’s compound and punished.
Rahim, shaking so badly that he thought his legs might collapse, needed a place to hide.
CHAPTER 68. RAHIMA
Taxis honked. One slid past me, skimming my side as I tried to dodge traffic in a busy intersection. I cursed myself for choosing to cross here, in front of so many cars. I felt a million eyes on me, eyes that might notice something was not right about this adolescent boy. Didn’t I look frightened — like I was running away from something? Did they see that my chest seemed to swell where a girl’s might?
I had done my best to tie down my breasts with a head scarf but it was harder now than it had been a few years ago. Having Jahangir had thickened me with curves that were more difficult to disguise.
“Hey, bacha! Watch where you’re going!” a man yelled through the driver’s-side window of the taxi, a cigarette between his fingers as he waved at me angrily.
Without a pause in my step, I raised an apologetic hand, silently thankful to know my disguise was working. Funny how easily I slipped back into this person, how comfortable I felt even though my nerves were on fire.
My sandals slapped against the dusty road, my legs free in the pants, a loose tunic covering my curved rear.
It had been nearly eleven o’clock when I left the hotel. That felt like a year ago, though it couldn’t have been more than twenty or thirty minutes. A bus came up ahead, slowing near a crowd of people and honking an awkward tune. Maybe that was the one. I looked for signs, turning my head and suddenly feeling my legs weaken.
A black SUV slowed as it approached, only half a block away.
I felt exposed even in the crowded street, wondering if I’d been spotted. If I hadn’t been, running now might draw attention.
The driver slowly rolled down the tinted window and I let out a soft moan of panic.
But it was a face I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t Abdul Khaliq’s car.
Regrouping quickly, I pushed my way through and reached the crowd of people clamoring to board the white and blue bus.
“Is this the bus to Wazir Akbar Khan?”
No one turned around.
“Agha, is this the bus to Wazir Akbar Khan?” I asked again, louder. I tried to deepen my voice, to hide my feminine tone.
A man turned around, annoyed. He wore a button-down shirt over slacks and held a briefcase in his hand.
“Yes, it is! Hurry up and get on if you’re coming,” he said. He and another man tried to squeeze through the bus door at the same time, each hoping to get a square of standing space.
With my head down, I managed to slip onto the bus behind two men. I waited for the bus driver to notice and shout, but he didn’t. I wiggled my way to the back of the bus, as far from the driver as possible. Looking around, there was not a single woman on the bus. I felt my face flush at being surrounded, so closely, by so many men. I kept my elbows close to my chest and cringed when the bus’s movements pushed a body against mine. I craned my neck to see between the chests and arms. I hoped I would recognize my stop.
The bus will stop on a road lined with shops. Look for a beauty shop between an electronics store and a food vendor. Usually there’s a man with a long beard and half an arm standing around there begging for money.
It was a long ride to Wazir Akbar Khan. Beads of sweat slid down my neck. My nerves were just starting to settle as the bus put distance between me and the hotel — between me and Abdul Khaliq’s guards.
I was supposed to be there at twelve. I had meant to leave the hotel earlier but Badriya had taken her time that morning, putting the whole plan in jeopardy.