Yes。
Sometimes the fog is so thick in the morning； all you see is the tip of the two towers poking through。
There was wonder in his smile。 Oh。
Sohrab？
Yes。
Have you given any thought to what I asked you before？
His smiled faded。 He rolled to his back。 Laced his hands under his head。 The mullahs decided that Ayub s son would go to hell after all for wearing his pants the way he did。 They claimed it was in the Haddith。 I ve thought about it； Sohrab said。
And？
It scares me。
I know it s a little scary； I said； grabbing onto that loose thread of hope。 But you ll learn English so fast and you ll get used to……
That s not what I mean。 That scares me too； but。。。
But what？
He rolled toward me again。 Drew his knees up。 What if you get tired of me？ What if your wife doesn t like me？
I struggled out of bed and crossed the space between us。 I sat beside him。 I won t ever get tired of you； Sohrab； I said。 Not ever。 That s a promise。 You re my nephew； remember？ And Soraya jan； she s a very kind woman。 Trust me； she s going to love you。 I promise that too。 I chanced something。 Reached down and took his hand。 He tightened up a little but let me hold it。
I don t want to go to another orphanage； he said。
I won t ever let that happen。 I promise you that。 I cupped his hand in both of mine。 e home with me。
His tears were soaking the pillow。 He didn t say anything for a long time。 Then his hand squeezed mine back。 And he nodded。 He nodded。
THE CONNECTION WENT THROUGH on the fourth try。 The phone rang three times before she picked it up。 Hello？ It was 7：30 in the evening in Islamabad； roughly about the same time in the morning in California。 That meant Soraya had been up for an hour； getting ready for school。
It s me； I said。 I was sitting on my bed； watching Sohrab sleep。
Amir！ she almost screamed。 Are you okay？ Where are you？
I m in Pakistan。
Why didn t you call earlier？ I ve been sick with tashweesh！ My mother s praying and doing nazr every day。
I m sorry I didn t call。 I m fine now。 I had told her I d be away a week； two at the most。 I d been gone for nearly a month。 I smiled。 And tell Khala Jamila to stop killing sheep。
What do you mean fine now ？ And what s wrong with your voice？
Don t worry about that for now。 I m fine。 Really。 Soraya； I have a story to tell you； a story I should have told you a long time ago； but first I need to tell you one thing。
What is it？ she said； her voice lower now； more cautious。
I m not ing home alone。 I m bringing a little boy with me。 I paused。 I want us to adopt him。
What？
I checked my watch。 I have fifty…seven minutes left on this stupid calling card and I have so much to tell you。 Sit some where。 I heard the legs of a chair dragged hurriedly across the wooden floor。
Go ahead； she said。
Then I did what I hadn t done in fifteen years of marriage： I told my wife everything。 Everything。 I had pictured this moment so many times； dreaded it； but； as I spoke； I felt something lifting off my chest。 I imagined Soraya had experienced something very similar the night of our khastegari； when she d told me about her past。
By the time I was done with my story； she was weeping。
What do you think？ I said。
I don t know what to think； Amir。 You ve told me so much all at once。
I realize that。
I heard her blowing her nose。 But I know this much： You have to bring him home。 I want you to。
Are you sure？ I said； closing my eyes and smiling。
Am I sure？ she said。 Amir； he s your qaom； your family； so he s my qaom too。 Of course I m sure。 You can t leave him to the streets。 There was a short pause。 What s he like？
I looked over at Sohrab sleeping on the bed。 He s sweet； in a solemn kind of way。
Who can blame him？ she said。 I want to see him； Amir。 I really do。
Soraya？
Yeah。
Dostet darum。 I love you。
I love you back； she said。 I could hear the smile in her words。 And be careful。
I will。 And one more thing。 Don t tell your parents who he is。 If they need to know； it should e from me。
Okay。
We hung up。
THE LAWN OUTSIDE the American embassy in Islamabad was neatly mowed； dotted with circular clusters of flowers； bordered by razor…straight hedges。 The building itself was like a lot of buildings in Islamabad： flat and white。 We passed through several road blocks to get there and three different security officials conducted a body search on me after the wires in my jaws set off the metal
detectors。 When we finally stepped in from the heat； the airconditioning hit my face like a splash of ice water。 The secretary in the lobby； a fifty…something； lean…faced blond woman； smiled when I gave her my name。 She wore a beige blouse and black slacks……the first woman I d seen in weeks dressed in something other than a burqa or a shalwar…kameez。 She looked me up on the appointment list； tapping the eraser end of her pencil on the desk。 She found my name and asked me to take a seat。
Would you like some lemonade？ she asked。
None for me； thanks； I said。
How about your son？
Excuse me？
The handsome young gentleman； she said； smiling at Sohrab。
Oh。 That d be nice； thank you。
Sohrab and I sat on the black leather sofa across the reception desk； next to a tall American flag。 Sohrab picked up a magazine from the glass…top coffee table。 He flipped the pages； not really looking at the pictures。
What？ Sohrab said。
Sorry？
You re smiling。
I was thinking about you； I said。
He gave a nervous smile。 Picked up another magazine and flipped through it in under thirty seconds。
Don t be afraid； I said； touching his arm。 These people are frie