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herself.
    Personally, as far as secrets went I thought this had to be the worst of the worst. However, I quite liked the idea of her teaching the poor goat herders how to become rich. Most people only come to Afghanistan to help themselves get rich, or richer.
    “Will you take me one day?” I asked. “To see the goats?”
    “Yes, of course I will, as long as your mother agrees.”
    “I think it will be okay,” I said. “Unless you invite James, and then it might be a bit more complicated.”
    Georgie laughed. “Yes, I think you’re right about that. He’s not exactly her favorite person at the moment, is he?”
    No, he isn’t, I thought. Far from it.
    Ever since
that
night, my mother had stopped talking to James. Sometimes she couldn’t even bring herself to look at him, which was a bit embarrassing because he’d taken tobringing her flowers every day as some kind of peace offering. Unfortunately for James, this small effort had also landed him in hot water with Shir Ahmad, and I was certain that if the guard wasn’t being paid three hundred dollars a month, he would have had James murdered.
    I think Shir Ahmad had fallen in love with my mother at some point when I wasn’t looking, or maybe when I was looking at someone else. I guess this was because she was still very beautiful, and I felt a little sorry for him—as long as he didn’t try to touch her. For my mother’s part, she laughed at his jokes, fixed his tea, and cooked his food, but she seemed to prefer the company of Homeira across the road. So that left Shir Ahmad alone to take care of his hopeful heart—and to stare dangerously at James when he came home with yet another unwanted bunch of flowers.
    In fact, the only person who was allowed and seemed to want to talk to James these days was May, who had stopped crying and started getting drunk. I didn’t know which was worse. Either way her face was still red and puffy.
    “What’s happened to May?” I asked Georgie one day in the car.
    “What do you mean?”
    “She’s always laughing now.”
    “Well, that’s better than crying, isn’t it?”
    “I don’t know. And I’m not sure James does either.”
    Georgie smiled and turned to look at me. “Yes, she does seem to spend more time with him these days.”
    “She wants to be his girlfriend,” I stated knowingly, only for Georgie to shake her head and laugh hard.
    “I don’t think so, Fawad. She’s a . . . what do you call it in Dari? She’s a woman who likes other women more than she likes men.”
    My heart skipped a beat at this latest shock of information,and I felt the sticky prickle of sweat break out at the sides of my head.
    “What do you mean
likes
?” I whispered, asking about May but thinking of my mother and her many visits across the road.
    “Like husbands like wives . . . that kind of like,” Georgie explained with a wink, obviously mistaking my concern for surprise.
    I nodded my head, as if I didn’t care and to show I was a man of the world, but her words bumped around my brain like a death sentence.
Like husbands like wives . . . like husbands like wives . . .
It was unreal. It was unbelievable. That didn’t mean just talking. That meant kissing and
everything
.
    As the words slowly sank in and I pictured the full horror of my future playing out before my eyes, I realized I’d have to take drastic action, and quick.
    I’d have to force my mother to marry Shir Ahmad.
     
    “You’re a bit young to be looking for a woman, aren’t you?”
    Pir Hederi turned his white eyes in my direction. We were sitting side by side, in front of the shop, enjoying the warm breeze that breathed the end of summer on our faces.
    “It’s not for me,” I corrected, a bit disgusted at the thought.
    “Who for, then?”
    “Just someone—a man.”
    Since the shock of discovering my mother might be a woman who likes other women, I’d been trying everything I could think of to make her fall in love with Shir Ahmad, but