A Long Way from Home (12 page)

Chapter 27

“Well, my, my. Look who's here,” Millie said, when they walked into the cafeteria.

Rabia followed her gaze to a long table where Leah was sitting with a nurse. “Hi Rabia,” she called brightly as they approached. She turned to the woman beside her. “Mom, this is Rabia and Karim.”

Smiling, Debbie reached for Rabia's hand. “Sorry to hear about your mother,” she said. “How is she?”

“Mama…she is getting better.”

“Should be out of the hospital in a few days,” Millie offered.

“Would you like to hang out with us?” Leah asked.

“Hang…?”

“We're going downtown. You and Karim can come along if you like.”

“Why don't you go with them, my love,” Millie said. “Sure, it'll do yeh good to get away from this place for a little while.”

“Yes,” Rabia agreed eagerly. “We will go.”

At that moment, Colin came into the cafeteria. Rabia's mouth fell open. What was that American boy doing here? She watched as he walked toward them. He handed Leah's mother a phone. “Thank you, Mrs. Pickford.”

“Did you get through okay?”

“Yes. I talked with Mom.”

“Rabia and Karim are going to come downtown with us,” Leah told him.

Rabia took a step backward.

Colin turned to her. “I was sorry to hear about your mother,” he said.

Rabia eyed him warily. How did he know about Mama?

“Well,” Leah said, buttoning her jacket. “Let's get out of here.”

Rabia hesitated, but she followed after them.

The hospital was built on a hill overlooking the city. From where she stood Rabia could see into the leafy backyards of houses below. Birds huddled together on clotheslines and telephone wires. The rain had stopped, and the sun was struggling to pierce the dark low clouds.

Rabia felt a lightness in her step. Mama had called her brave. Mama was proud of her. She wanted to shout it out to the world.

Leah led the way down the steep hill, chattering continually as she walked. She told Rabia about how she and Colin stowed away in the back of her uncle's truck.

Rabia listened, fascinated. Leah's life was so different from her own.

They made their way down the hill until they came to West Valley Road. From there they walked all the way to West Street. Leah and Rabia walked ahead while Colin and Karim lagged behind. Shops, restaurants, drugstores, and office buildings lined the street. The spicy aroma of chicken wafted through the damp air. Rabia stopped to admire the mannequins in store windows. There were men and woman as well as child-sized figures. They looked like real people with blond, red, and dark hair. When the Taliban came to Kabul, they lopped the heads off all the store mannequins.

“Let's rest,” Leah said, leading Rabia to a bench beside a picnic table in a grassy clearing off the main street. Across from them was a sagging building that looked ready to fall down. The roof had caved in, and all the windows were broken. It reminded Rabia of the bombed out buildings in Kabul. A sign in front said,
Danger: No Trespassing
. But Rabia could not read the English words. The house looked out of place among the trees and flowers and tidy buildings.

“Before he died, my dad used to take me into the city all the time,” Leah said. “He grew up in Corner Brook.”

Rabia saw Colin and Karim heading toward the old building. “Your father…how did he die?”

“There was a fire in a building he was working on. He didn't make it out,” Leah said sadly. “That was about three years ago.” She looked at Rabia. “What happened to
your
father?”

“I do not know,” Rabia answered. She told Leah about how the Taliban had come to their house and dragged him away.

“They can just do that?” Leah asked, her eyes wide. “That's horrible.”

“Yes,” Rabia said, sadly. “Is horrible.”

Leah looked toward the sky. “Still, in a way I envy you.”

“Envy?” Rabia repeated. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Colin climb up on the verandah of the abandoned house.

“Sometimes I dream about my dad,” Leah said. “I wake up and realize he's never coming back.” Her eyes grew sad. “You still have hope that your dad will return.”

Rabia briefly touched her arm. “Yes,” she nodded. “Still hope.”

Father used to say that hope chased away despair. Rabia thought of her neighbors and relatives back in Afghanistan. Even though they were in desperate situations, they still held hope that things would get better. Leah was right. Hope made it possible to believe that anything could happen.

Rabia was so lost in her thoughts she did not notice the black-and-white car pull up on the street across from them. Its door slammed, jolting her out of her musings. The car had a row of red and blue lights on top. Two men were approaching them. They wore uniforms with blue stripes down the legs of their trousers. One was no older than Yousef. He was skinny with a mustache. The other, an older man, had streaks of silver in his hair. Police. Rabia glanced quickly at Karim and Colin. Both boys were on the verandah of the house now.

“You know those kids?” the older officer asked, his gaze straying to the abandoned building.

“My brother,” Rabia said, feeling her mouth go dry.

The officer shook his head. “They shouldn't be there. Can't they read the sign?”

Rabia's heart began to race. How could she have been so careless? If the police arrested Karim, he would be taken to prison. Losing another son would kill Mama. They would never get to America. Rabia couldn't bear it. She watched helplessly as the officers approached the boys. The older one beckoned for them to come down from the verandah.
Karim cannot read English,
Rabia wanted to shout.
He does not talk. But he is a good boy!

The police came back to the bench, Colin and Karim in tow. “Where are you kids from?”

“I'm from Gander,” Leah said.

“I'm from New York,” Colin said. “Karim and Rabia are from Afghanistan.”

“Afghanistan,” the younger officer said, giving them an odd look. “Did you kids come in on the planes that got diverted to Gander on Tuesday?” He seemed more curious than anything. Still, Rabia was too frightened to speak. Her whole body trembled.

“Yes,” Colin said. “I was on my way from London to New York. Rabia and Karim are going to California.”

“What are you all doing in Corner Brook?”

“I came to see my mom,” Leah said. “She's training to be a nurse at Western Memorial. Rabia and Karim's mother is in the hospital recovering from a heart attack.” She glanced at Colin. “And Colin…Colin came with me.”

“I hear there's quite the crowd landed there,” the officer said, his voice friendly.

“People are sleeping on church pews and on floors of school gyms,” Leah said.

“My brother lives in Glenwood,” the younger officer said. “They have a family from Florida staying with them.”

Rabia listened to the conversation, not quite believing it was as friendly as it sounded. Leah spoke with the men as easily as if they were uncles or brothers.

The older officer studied Rabia. “No harm done, young lady. I hope your mother is feeling better soon,” he said. “Enjoy your stay in Newfoundland.”

“Thank you,” Rabia said, stunned that a policeman would say such a thing.

“Why don't you go down to Mill Brook Mall,” the younger man suggested. “They have a Lego building marathon going on. I was there yesterday with my nephew. Kids are building all kinds of neat things.” He looked pointedly at Colin and Karim. “A lot safer than climbing on top of old buildings.”

Rabia watched them walk away, and nearly wept with relief. The Taliban would have arrested them. Maybe taken them to jail, beaten them for sure. But these policemen were only concerned about the boys' safety. Relief swept over Rabia and she sank down onto the bench. It took a few minutes until her shaking subsided.

“Anyone up to building Lego?” Leah asked. “Mill Brook Mall is close by.”

They walked in silence until they came to long, low building built alongside a brook. “Doesn't look much like a mall,” Colin said.

“Most of the stores are closed now.” Leah said, as they walked up a set of concrete steps to the main entrance and went inside. Kids sat at tables building boats, cars, helicopters, and spaceships with colorful bricks. There were more tables filled with displays of churches, hospitals, trains, rockets, and various animals. On one table was a giant hat. On another, a towering giraffe. Photographs of other creations were displayed along the walls.

“We'd like to sign up for the marathon.” Leah told a guard standing by the door.

“Eva's in charge of that,” he said. “Over by the booth.” He pointed to a plump woman in a navy outfit. “Hey Eva,” he called. “Some kids here to see yeh.”

The woman came toward them, a pair of reading glasses dangling from a chain around her neck. “What school are yeh from?”

“We're not from around here,” Leah said. “We're just visiting.”

“Usually, we require a letter from your school giving permission to skip classes.” Eva shrugged. “Well, nothing's written in stone.” She took their names and led them to an empty table in the corner. “After you've finished your project, we'll keep it on display for twenty-four hours. Then we'll dismantle it to make room for others.” She pointed to a wall of photographs. “Before we take it apart, we'll take a picture.”

“Sounds good,” Leah said.

“You can work alone or in groups,” Eva said.

“I'd like for us to work together,” Leah said. She glanced at Colin who gave a quick nod of agreement.

“Okay,” said Eva. “I'll have someone bring your blocks.”

Rabia and Karim sat at one end of the table, Leah and Colin at the other. Minutes later, a boy brought several plastic containers filled with pieces of various shapes and sizes. It was the first time Rabia had seen such a thing. Children in Kabul were not encouraged to play.

Eva came back to the table holding a leaflet, which she placed on the table. “Here are some blueprints,” she said. “Of course, you can build from your imagination.”

Karim picked up a bright yellow piece, the size of a brick. He turned it around in his small hands. It was the first time in over a year Rabia had seen him show an interest in anything.

“Any idea what we can build?” Colin asked.

“We could build a bridge,” Rabia suggested, her eyes fixed on her brother. Karim is good at building bridges.”

Leah nodded. “Great idea.”

“Okay,” Colin said. “Let's build a bridge.”

September 19, 2001

Dear Colin,

Thank you for your letter. It is so quiet here now that all the plane people have left, and Uncle Eli moved into his own apartment. There are all kinds of rumors about who was in Gander on 9/11. Some say that Michael Jackson arrived here in his private jet. They say he was given a room in one of the motels in town. I know for a fact that it was Clemens Briels we saw in the grocery store. He was staying at Lakewood Academy in Glenwood. Before he left, he drew a picture on the blackboard using crayons and colored chalk. My cousin Jessica goes to that school. She said the principal had the blackboard removed from the wall. It is now in the school library, framed and covered in Plexiglas.

The Rockefeller Foundation in New York is donating fifty thousand dollars worth of computers to the school in Lewisporte. Someone from the foundation was staying at the school. I wish we could have some new computers for our school. Ours are as slow as molasses, and keep breaking down. But Granny says I should be grateful for what I have instead of complaining about what I don't have.

Aunt Millie had a letter from Rabia. They are doing well. I am sending you her address in case you want to write her. Whenever I look at the picture of the bridge we built at Mill Brook Mall, I think of you and Rabia and Karim. I hope to see you all again someday.

Brent, Granny, and Aunt Flo send their love.

Your friend always,

Leah

September 25, 2001

Dear Leah,

Good to hear from you. Thank you for sending me Rabia's address. I often think of her and Karim. I feel sad whenever I think about what they have gone through.

It will be a long time before things get back to normal around here. I still keep my bedroom curtains drawn. I can't bear to look out at Ground Zero and the pile of rubble. In English class, we had to write an essay about where we were on 9/11. The teacher and the students were fascinated about my stay in Gander, and our little adventure to Corner Brook. I felt a bit guilty about having had such a good time during what was our city's biggest tragedy.

We hardly recognized Dad when he picked us up at the airport. He had grown a beard and was wearing a sloppy shirt and jeans. I heard him tell Mom that he really missed us. Anyway, he is starting another job at the end of the year. His new job doesn't require him to travel so much. He and Mom are getting along a lot better now. They don't fight nearly as much. For a while, I was afraid they might get a divorce.

Dad never gets tired of hearing stories about our stay in Gander. Last evening, he went on the Internet and Googled Salvage. We may be spending our summer vacation there. Mom has already ordered brochures from the Newfoundland Department of Tourism. So, Leah, if everything goes as planned, we will be in Newfoundland this summer.

I would love to see you all again,

Colin

September 28, 2001

Dear Colin:

Thank you for your letter, and your concern for Mama and Karim. We are all well, and getting settled in our little apartment in Monterey. It is pretty here, quiet and peaceful. Still, I wake up from nightmares where I can't get out of Afghanistan, and I am running from the Taliban. And of course, I miss Father, Amir, and Yousef.