Words in the Dust Read Online Free Page A

because that welder in Farah is a no-good jackal from Pakistan.” Baba waved his hand as if to brush away the idea of the Pakistani. “So this is really the best part. In a few months, we’ll be making a lot of money working in Farah as well!”
    Najib spoke up. “The Americans need the best welders for their big base!”
    “Wah wah, Najib!” Zeynab squealed.
    Baba slapped Najib on the back. He had to reach up now that Najib had grown taller. “Who knows, but I may even take another wife! I’m not young. This is true. But today I feel as though I am only nineteen, like Najibullah.”
    Another wife? I shifted my weight onto my other foot. Was he serious? I looked to Zeynab, who stared back and wrinkled her nose at me. Malehkah just chopped at the chicken, saying nothing. But when she looked up, her wide eyes met mine for an instant before she quickly turned away.
    “Maybe we’ll even make enough money to buy a big truck, a welding truck with all our gear on the back.” Baba-jan made a frame with his fingers. “And ‘Frouton Welding Company’ written on the side in Dari and English!”
    Malehkah slapped her knife down on the cutting board. “Where’s Khalid?”
    “What?” Baba’s face took on the faint hint of a scowl. He hadn’t been listening, so lost was he in his happy dream.
    “Where is Khalid?” Malehkah stared at me.
    “Not in the back courtyard,” I said. My whole body began to slump with the bad feeling I was getting. Why hadn’t I been watching him more closely?
    Zeynab looked at Malehkah and then at me. “I haven’t seen him in the house, but maybe —”
    “That’s why the street door was unlocked. He must have gone out to see the soldiers,” said Baba.
    “Zulaikha, I told you to watch the boys,” Malehkah said.
    “I told him he couldn’t go.”
    “Bah. Let him play.” Baba backhanded our concerns out of his way with the same movement he used to shoo flies from his rice. He reached into his pocket again and pulled out a shiny caramel, unwrapping it for Habib. “Here, bacha. You eat this. I’ll give Khalid his when he gets home.”
    “But Sadiq, Khalid is just —”
    “I said let him play!” Baba shouted. He slapped the wall, then paced to the front window in the silence. When he turned around, he spoke very quietly. “I’ll not be contradicted in my own house.” He glared at Malehkah. “Khalid is a growing boy. He is getting too old to listen to women.”
    My mouth hung open at Baba’s words. I watched Malehkah take in a breath to speak, then press her lips together to let it out through her nose. She couldn’t argue with Baba, but her anger was clear, and Malehkah had ways of forcing me to regret her anger.
    Najib had taken a seat on the floor and Baba lay down on the other side of the room. His eyes were heavy and he spread his arms and legs to try to keep cool.
    “Hot,” said Baba. He reached for Habib when he saw the little one blinking sleepily. “We’ll sleep off the hot day, bacha. Nobody can weld in this heat.” He kissed Habib on top of his head as the boy settled down. He turned to Najib. “We’ll work this evening and maybe late tonight.”
    Malehkah took the chicken into the tiny kitchen in the back of the house. Zeynab sat down on a rolled-up toshak and resumed sewing. Only the tiny pop of her needle pierced the quiet. Nobody made a sound, and the thick, hot, dusty air was completely still. After a few minutes, Baba’s voice, smoother, slower, and quieter than before, interrupted the silence. “Bale. Good times ahead.”
    For the rest of the afternoon, we would have to do only the quiet chores. Any work like scrubbing the morning’s dirty pot or sweeping would have to wait until after the men were awake again.
    I went outside to gather the clothes. I always liked the way the dry clothes would try to hold their shape when they came off the line. Draping the clean laundry over my shoulder, I turned back toward the house.
    Zeynab tiptoed out and