13
Father And Son
Karim closed the kitchen door and hit his forehead with the heel of his hand—he’d forgotten where he was again! Hugging women, touching women, particularly from places like Afghanistan—was completely out of order. How could he have forgotten? And she’s married, he reminded himself.
He looked down at his shirt and rubbed the damp patch where she’d leaned against him. He’d always felt useless, even irritated, when women wept all over him, and plenty had when he’d finished relationships. But this was different; Zahra’s distress had touched him deeply.
He would never forget seeing her ten years ago, an innocent wide-eyed school girl in floods of grief-stricken tears in Nasim’s dining room. How he’d longed even then to take her in his arms and comfort her. All he could do
