Return to the Little Coffee Shop of Kabul by Deborah Rodriguez

Author:Deborah Rodriguez
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Random House Australia
Published: 2016-11-27T05:00:00+00:00

23

“You missed a spot.”

Sunny turned to see Joe on the lawn beside her, leaning heavily against the carved Afghan walking stick she had found for him inside the barn. “Very funny.” She brushed away the curls that had escaped from under her purple bandana and stood back to admire her work. The six-foot technicolor peacock splashed across the south side of the barn was worrying her a little. “He looks like he’s angry.”

“Well, he is supposed to be screaming,” Joe said.

“Screaming, yes. Angry, not so much.” Sunny placed her brush into the bucket of soapy water with the others.

“Well you can’t paint a smile on him and ask him to scream at the same time, can you?”

She cocked her head and squinted at her creation. “Maybe it’s the eyes. They’re too beady. He needs friendlier eyes.”

“He’s a bird. Birds have beady eyes.”

“Well maybe his beak is open too wide.”

“How else would we know he was screaming?”

“Have you ever actually seen a peacock scream, Joe?”

“Nope. Just heard them.”

“Me too.”

“Well then, we will just have to keep our eyes open, won’t we?”

Sunny wiped her hands on her jeans. “No, Joe, you will just have to keep your eyes open. I hereby dub you the peacock spy. Me, I just want to paint.” Painting had always been Sunny’s favorite escape, and the bigger the canvas the better. She smiled to herself when she thought of how many times she’d painted and repainted the huge wall in front of the coffeehouse, trying so hard to get it just right, finally settling on an image that had haunted her from her last visit to Mazar-e Sharif, the thousands of white doves against the blue Afghan sky. She picked up the bucket of dirty brushes and circled the barn with Joe in tow. The rosebushes Sky had helped her plant needed watering, as it hadn’t rained in weeks. The pale peach variety they’d found was perfect, exactly like the ones she remembered from Kabul.

“Can I be of assistance?” Joe asked eagerly.

“I’ve got it. Thanks.”

“What?” Joe cupped his ear with his hand as a plane flew across the late morning sky.

“I said I’ve got it!” Sunny yelled. But the look on Joe’s face made her regret her tone. “Be careful,” she said, handing him the hose. “Don’t trip. I’ll be right back.”

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