“I love you, too,” I whisper.
He raises his head, seeks my eyes, lets me sink deep into his. His hands come up to brush my hair back, to cradle my face in their gentle warmth.
Okay, no—thisis the most magical moment of my life.
I hook my fingers in the belt loops of his jeans, tugging him closer. I lift up on my toes, and we meet in a kiss, a lazy, sultry, smooth-like-velvet kiss.
It’s the most extraordinary kiss.
And it’s interrupted in the most awful way.
Hala’s voice, aghast,furious. “Matihullah!”
MATI
She jerks away from me,
covering her heart-shaped mouth
with a cupped hand.
Her eyes are wide, dilated,horrified,
as she turns to face Mama.
I do, too.
I have never seen this combination
of emotion on my mama’s face.
She is appalled.
She is agonized.
She is apoplectic.
She lets loose a barrage of Pashto,
words that swarm the air like angry wasps.
And then she whirls around
and marches to the front yard,
where Baba sits.
“Stay here,” I say to the girl
who stands trembling before me.
I go after Mama.
She stands over Baba,
and her rage is an onslaught.
The poor dog…
