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while she lay awake listening to barking dogs and crowing roosters in the night, she thought of suicide since it seemed the only way out.
    It was Treena who saved her, meek Treena with her huge eyes, fade-away voice and constant attention to babies that were nursing, teething, walking or sickening with some childhood complaint. Treena, who concealed the courage of a lioness behind her submissive attitude. She had whispered to Chloe about the Revolutionary Association of the Women of Afghanistan, a group that had banded together originally to help oust the Soviets but were now circumventing the edicts of the Taliban. The RAWA had spread into Hazaristan along with the Taliban incursion. They were in desperate need of teachers to instruct theyoung girls who were being denied an education. Without knowledge these children would be forever consigned to the role of servants to men. Chloe’s mother had been a teacher. Why should she not follow in her footsteps?
    How long ago had it been, Chloe wondered, since she’d first heard of these brave women? Five years? Six or more? She couldn’t remember. Time had scant meaning when there was little to distinguish one day from another, or one year from the next. It seemed that she’d been teaching her secret classes of girls forever, that her dangerous forays into other women’s homes to present an hour or two of classes had been going on since she was a child. The lessons, the smiles of the girls, their hunger for knowledge, the intense friendships with the women who defied the Taliban—these things were what kept her sane. She sometimes thought it was what she was meant to do with her life, that fate had placed her in this place, at this time, where the knowledge she had gained in American schools and then from her mother would be most helpful. She was needed here, had found her true purpose and meaning. What could going away with a stranger offer her that might compare?
    The American’s presence, his daring in contacting her, had jeopardized her safety. To see him again could put at risk all she had achieved, might even create suspicion that could lead to discovery of her RAWA connection. Her friends, the women who had become like the most loving of sisters, would be in peril since their activity was considered a heinous crime. They could be sentenced to public torture followed by burning at the stake. Punishments had grown steadily more barbaric since the influx of Taliban from defeated Afghanistan.
    She could not meet the man. It would be madness to try. The bazaar was a public place where she was never permitted to go alone. Even if Ismael could be persuaded to escort her, it would be foolhardy. No chance of a private conversation with the American existed since he would be as conspicuous in the public market as a black cat on a white doorstep. He could know little of the conditions she faced, much less understand their implications, so his discretion was in doubt.
    No, she would not keep this appointment. Absolutely, she would not.
    It was later that evening, after they had returned to Ajzukabad and Chloe and Treena were putting the children to bed, that Treena spoke again of the stadium meeting. As she bathed her middle daughter, less than three years old, from a basin of water, she said, “I know the handsome foreign devil had something to say to you earlier. Are you going to tell me what it was or must I guess?”
    â€œReally, Treena, he only apologized.”
    â€œAnd for this you became as still as a statue? Come, now. Such men were most forward in the films I used to see. Was it something improper?”
    â€œNot at all.”
    â€œA compliment perhaps? They could be tender as well, these men.” Her stepsister’s eyes danced with laughter.
    â€œOf course not!” To hide the flush that rose unaccountably to her face at the idea, Chloe picked up Uma, the five-year-old who was the eldest of the three girls, and began to brush