Fear of Beauty by Susan Froetschel

Author:Susan Froetschel
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Seventh Street Books
Published: 2012-12-06T05:00:00+00:00

Not long after the shooting, the woman groggily shook her head and tried to stand. She was weak, and I encouraged her to lean against me even as she asked questions, a few Dari words mixed with her foreign tongue.

I put my finger to her lips. We must get away, I whispered. There was shooting.

Moving slowly, with my hand draped around her waist I guided her downhill, away from the ledge, the path, and another dangerous fall. Not far away was one of the many caves hidden underneath the mountains.

Unsure about how much to trust her, I didn’t want to talk about myself. Oddly, though, the woman seemed to trust me and followed my directions like an obedient child.

Once in the smoother terrain of the valley, far from the roaming shooters, we tried talking. She knew a few Dari words, and we managed to exchange other details with gestures, facial expressions, and patience. She said the word American, and I understood. But she didn’t understand after I tried to ask why she looked so much like the Indians who had once passed through our cities from the south.

Tofang. She pointed to her side. You took my gun away.

I left it behind—too heavy to carry.

Along the way, she paused a few times and looked backward. Why do we walk away from the village?

Your life is in danger. You must hide. Even if she didn’t understand, she could not miss the warning. I stopped. My question was abrupt as we neared the cave. Can you read?

Puzzled, she shook her head. I cupped my hands as if they held the Koran, moving my head slowly back and forth. Still, she did not understand, so I cupped my left hand and bent my head, pointing a finger as though reading words. Excited, she nodded.

I hurried to explain how she must hide until the danger ended. It won’t be long.

But how? The woman was unaccustomed to Dari, her phrases choppy with missing words. Shots. I fell. She asked what had happened to the men with her.

I hesitated, and then whispered. They may be dead. The woman choked back a cry. We’ll find out . . . My promise was vague. Taking her by the hand, I led her toward the cave, with a narrow entrance accessible only to children or small women. The only clue to the opening was the sinkhole, obscured by years of falling rocks and spreading brush. Rolling aside the large rocks scattered in front, I then used my hand to brush away smaller rocks to clear the entrance. I pointed. We can go in here and be safe.

The American looked at me as if I were crazy.

All right, I’ll go first. You follow. And I removed my perahaan to keep it free from dust, placing it inside the basket. I gestured for her to do the same before shoving the basket inside the tunnel.

Lying flat on my stomach, using my elbows to reach out and my toes to push against the walls and gain leverage, I entered the tunnel.

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