26.
After dinner we slip into our
sleeping bags which have been positioned around the deadwood fire. Sameh begins
to snore almost immediately, even though the wind is noticeably increasing in
velocity.
If he’s not frightened, then why
should I be?
Anya and I stare into the fire,
sharing occasional sips from a pint of whiskey I stowed away for myself after
purchasing it off a back alley contraband vendor in Giza while the Land Cruiser
was being tended to—a shop that also sold thick black bricks of Afghan hash.
“How do you think he’ll react when
you first see him?” I say.
“How will who react?” Anya says,
bits of her thick brown hair blowing in the wind.
“Your husband, Andre. He’s liable
to have no idea that you’re looking for him.”
I watch her c**k her head while
pulling he
