What Changes Everything Read online

  apologetically.

  "We"re happy to have them."

  "I can reach out to my own hospital when I"m home," Mandy said. "Try to get more to send you."

  Zarlasht nodded. "I will make sure you know how to reach me."

  Now, in each room, Mandy sought to linger longer. She wished she"d thought to bring something to each child. "Can you buy balloons in Kabul?" she asked Zarlasht as they moved up to the third floor. Zarlasht repeated the word with a puzzled look.

  The top floor was crowded. Its rooms held children who had lost limbs. There were no elevators, so patients had to be wheeled up ramps, and Mandy wondered—but did not ask— about the decision to house them on the top floor. In one corner, an open closet revealed several pairs of small crutches. Zarlasht, seeing this, raised her voice, speaking sternly to a nurse who responded by reaching into a front pocket of her dress, pulling out a key and hurrying to close and lock the closet. "An Italian charity sends us the crutches," Zarlasht explained. "But if the closet is left unlocked, the visitors steal them to give to others. Then we don"t have enough for our own patients."

  Mandy hesitated outside the door of a room. "What about physical therapy?"

  "We don"t have that here. A center in Kabul is very active in this field, but it treats only men."

  They entered the room together. A girl, about thirteen, sat up in her bed. She"d lost both legs directly above the knees; this was clear by the way the sheet lay. She was alone, with a calm but half-dazed look on her face. Mandy suddenly felt frozen by a sense of futility. She was physically unable to enter the room. Before, she"d always believed her work as a nurse contributed to the world, at least enough. If she"d considered it, she would have said grownups were too busy being productive to focus on elusive concepts that might have consumed them in adolescence, like life"s meaning. Since Jimmy, though, she"d been fighting against a feeling of hopelessness nipping at the edges of her being. She"d found herself thinking that any single human act is ultimately useless; then she would argue with herself about this, though never decisively. Now, looking at the girl, an unlikely mirror of her own son, she felt she"d irretrievably lost the argument. And she felt angry with herself. Being well-intentioned wasn"t enough.

  Tears pressed against the back of her eyes. She pulled a water bottle out of her bag and took a sip. Zarlasht, she saw, was speaking to the nurse she"d earlier scolded. Mandy slipped out into the hallway, needing a few moments of relative aloneness. But the hallway offered no benches or even folding chairs, so she sat on the steps. Something sticky had spilled on one of them, she saw, and dust clung to the corners. She hadn"t expected to feel overwhelmed like this; this was not the time for self-pity or esoteric internal arguments. She needed to gather herself, and she would try to do it quickly.

  She was alone for only a moment, though, before she felt someone beside her. Zarlasht.

  "For a nurse, you are—what is the word? Not so able to look at medical things," Zarlasht said. Though Mandy knew she probably deserved derision, Zarlasht"s voice not unkind.

  She gave an apologetic half-laugh. "Squeamish."

  "Squeamish," Zarlasht repeated.

  "Not normally. Today…" Mandy trailed off.

  "The steps are not so good for sitting," Zarlasht said. "Come with me."

  Mandy really wanted a few minutes alone, but privacy no longer seemed an option. She

  followed Zarlasht down the hall and into a small room with a desk and three chairs. A moment later, the same nurse Zarlasht had earlier scolded arrived with two cups of hot chai and a plate of a half dozen candies wrapped in colorful foil.

  "Thank you," Mandy said, "that"s so kind. I"m sorry. I"m all right. It"s only that…"

  "Drink chai first." Zarlasht said. "Then we can talk."

  Gratefully, Mandy sipped the chai. Zarlasht seemed comfortable with the silence, which Mandy appreciated. "My son," she began after a few minutes, "came to Afghanistan as a soldier several years ago. He lost both his legs here. Roadside bomb."

  Zarlasht nodded. "I"m sorry for you and your son," she said, her voice kind but matteroffact. "This girl? The one you just saw? We will be able to get her prosthetics, inshallah. If the aid does not dry up. But she will never marry. She will not go to school. Her family will feel shamed by her. She will not have ongoing medical care." She shook her head. "Real recovery for her is not possible."

  Mandy nodded. "In that context, my son was lucky."

  Zarlasht studied Mandy for a moment, then shook her head. "It is poor luck on all sides."

  "Do you have children, Zarlasht?"

  "A daughter. Two sons."

  "Then you know what it is…"

  "To see one of them hurt? Yes I know." She hesitated, then added: "Compassion is a luxury here. We don"t have extra to spare."

  Mandy suddenly felt the settling in of a deep-seated weariness. "Thank you for sharing the girl"s story," she said.

  "I think it is enough for this time," Zarlasht said, touching above her heart with her right

  hand.

  Mandy did not protest. She was glad that she"d have the rest of the afternoon to herself. Her visit to the refugee camp was not until tomorrow.

  "If you still want, I will try to set up a session with some of the nurses."

  "That would be wonderful," Mandy said.

  Zarlasht leaned forward. "It is hard," she said softly, "to be a woman in this country."

  "I"m learning that."

  "And when you are a strong woman, men don"t like it."

  "Maybe it will change, in time." Mandy knew this was not a meaningful response, but the conversation was taking a turn she didn"t quite understand. She felt something else was expected of her, but she didn"t know what.

  "You have connection with Amin, yes?" Zarlasht asked.

  "We met with him at the beginning, after Todd, Mr. Barbery—" Mandy hesitated, as though it was somehow impolite to mention the kidnapping.

  "And you can speak with Amin now?"

  Mandy shook her head. "He"s traveling. A driver from his office brought me here."

  "But you can pass on a message to the driver? Ask him to get it to Amin urgently?"

  "Yes," Mandy said, surprised. "I can try."

  "He will do it if you insist. You are a foreign woman. Amin must be told to remember that if Najib had agreed to leave, the story would have ended differently."

  Najib? Story? Mandy wasn"t sure what Zarlasht meant, but on its surface, the message hardly seemed urgent. Still, she felt Zarlasht"s intensity.

  "Can you write it down, to make sure you remember these exact words?" Zarlasht got up and produced a pen and paper from the desk. Mandy bent over to write. Zarlasht read over her shoulder, and then nodded. "He should be given this message right away," she said. "Today. As soon as you leave here. You can do that?"

  "Sure. I"ll ask the driver."

  "Make certain Amin is told."

  Mandy looked directly at Zarlasht. "Can you tell me what it means?"

  Zarlasht hesitated a moment. "It means I believe in friendship between our countries too," she said. "Or at least between individuals from our two countries." Then she gestured, leading Mandy back down the stairs, past the emergency room, back to the entrance. She bid Mandy goodbye with two final words—"Make certain"—and watched as Mandy headed out of Maiwand and onto the Kabul street where her driver waited.

  A Call in the Dark

  Clarissa, September 16th

  Clarissa reached her hand through the dark, lifting the noisy receiver and pressing it to her ear. "Hello," she said, not fully awake but already beginning to feel adrenaline run through her.

  "This is the wife of Todd Barbery?"

  The kidnappers. She knew it. She couldn"t speak.

  "Hello?"

  "Yes," she managed.

  "Wife of Todd Barbery?"

  "Yes," she said. "This is Todd"s wife."

  "Good. I want you to hear from our guest."

  "Who is this?" she asked. She heard the so
und of a muffled voice, something said in the background that she couldn"t make out.

  "Hello?" It was Todd"s voice.

  "Oh my God."

  "Clari."

  "Todd. I love you."

  "I love you too."

  "Are you okay?" She was standing now, grabbing a pen to take notes, even though they were surely recording the call.

  "Yes. I"m fine. I miss you, but I"m fine. Worrying about you."

  "We"re all good here, Todd. Ruby"s fine, too. We"re strong. We"re fine. We"re working to get you home, that"s all."

  "Clari, I"m sorry." His voice faltered. "Really sorry."

  "Todd, it"s not your fault." Clari took a deep breath, so that her own voice would sound solid, would give him strength. She tried to think: what had Jack told her? What was she supposed to say? "Is there anything you want me to know, Todd?"

  "I"m all right. They said I could tell you that at least."

  "Any advice for us? Anything we should be doing?"

  "Just keep—" Todd broke off. Clarissa heard a rustle, the sound of the phone changing hands.

  "So you see, wife of Todd Barbery, that your husband is fine."

  "Wait! I"m not—"

  "Listen to me. He is fine for now. Your negotiators need to respond to our requests. Time is important. You understand?"

  "Yes, but—"

  "We are not interested in a conversation with you. Only pass this information. You understand?"

  "Yes, but—"

  "Goodbye, then, Todd Barbery"s wife."

  And the line went fully, frustratingly dead.

  Kitchen Conversations

  Danil, September 17th

  Danil hung in a breath of space, frozen, as if he were one of the pinned butterflies Piotr used to collect. He lifted his hand, hesitated, then rang the doorbell, committing himself. Within a heartbeat, he regretted it. He half-turned away, imagined dashing down the street, ducking behind a car, and realized how bizarre that behavior would be. He turned back just as the door opened. A woman about his age stood there in jeans and boots, her hair pulled back.

  "Yes?" She looked stern, and puzzled.

  "I"m here to see Clarissa."

  "Are you with the…?" She trailed off, obviously taking in his paint-stained shirt and jeans stretched at the seams. "Who are you?"

  "No one, I"m just…" He suddenly put it together. "You must be Ruby."

  She took a half-step back, distrust on her face.

  "Clarissa gave me some food you"d made."

  Her eyes narrowed.

  "It was delicious."

  She neither replied nor moved.

  "Is Clarissa here?"

  "What"s this about?" she said.

  "Ruby?" He heard Clarissa"s voice and then could see her coming down the stairs, behind Ruby, rubbing her damp hair with a towel. She seemed distracted, but oddly unsurprised to see him. "Hi," she said to both Ruby and Danil at once.

  "The door was unlocked, so I—" Ruby began

  "Sure, of course," Clarissa said. "You two have introduced yourselves?"

  Danil glanced at Ruby. "Actually, I"m not sure I…"

  "This is Danil," Clarissa said. "He"s an artist. And this is Ruby. Todd"s daughter. Come in." She gestured toward Danil.

  "Thanks," he said, but even before he could step in, two men pushed open the gate from the street and walked up behind him.

  "This is my brother Mike," Clarissa said, speaking quickly now. "And Todd"s boss, Bill. Mike and Bill, meet Danil."

  "Does he know my dad?" Ruby said.

  Clarissa shook her head.

  "Is this a bad time?" Danil asked. Clearly it was, but he"d had to work up to this moment once and didn"t know if he could do it again.

  "Come in, all of you," Clarissa repeated, adding directly to Danil: "You too."

  Danil stepped in, shaking hands with the two men. They moved as a group toward the kitchen. Danil hung back.

  "Not a social call, is it?" Clarissa asked, hesitating outside the kitchen door.

  Danil leaned toward her. "I wanted to…ask you about something… but I"m sorry, this isn"t…"

  "No, it"s fine. You guys help yourself to juice or whatever," she said to the others, and then turned to him. "I heard from Todd. The FBI wants to give us some guidance based on that. But we have a few minutes."

  "Oh man," Danil said. "I can"t interrupt—"

  "Let"s go in here," Clarissa said.

  She sat on the bench at the entryway, and he joined her. He knew she didn"t have much time, so he started right in. "It"s about my brother, and…" He knew he sounded inarticulate. "I feel kind of silly."

  "It"s okay. Go on."

  "There"s this gallery owner in the city, and he"s offered me a place in a show."

  "Danil. That"s great."

  "But there"s an issue to do with my mom and my brother and what happened in

  Afghanistan. I haven"t talked to anyone…and I thought maybe you…" Clarissa leaned toward him, listening in a concentrated way.

  "Clarissa." It was the daughter. "Any minute now."

  "I"ll be right there," Clarissa said without looking away from Danil.

  The phone rang, and, Danil saw Ruby moved to pick it up. She set the receiver in the middle of the table.

  "I"m sorry. This is rude."

  "Danil, listen," Clarissa said in a hushed tone. "I"ve already talked to the FBI once today; this is really more for everyone else. It should take under fifteen minutes. Then I"d like to hear your question. Really I would. So please just stay."

  "Clarissa," Ruby, who"d approached them, said in a loud voice, "Jack told us not to—"

  "Danil already knows, Ruby."

  Ruby raised her eyebrows and her lips, impossibly, narrowed.

  "He lost a brother in Afghanistan," Clarissa said, as though that would explain everything to the daughter.

  "I"ll go," Danil said.

  "Stay here." Clarissa"s tone held authority. "Fifteen minutes. Ruby, is Jack on speaker?"

  Until now, Danil had mainly seen uncertainty and vulnerability in Clarissa. But at this moment, everyone moved to follow her instructions, even Ruby. He could see Clarissa must be capable in her other life, the one she"d lived prior to what happened to her husband. How far had she already traveled from that existence, he wondered, and how long would it take her to get back? It doesn"t matter how distant you stay from the grenade launchers and helicopters, the carbine assault rifles and the battle tanks; war poisons the air half a world away and then travels on the wind to slip into your peaceful lungs, changing everything.

  He knew that he should leave but, like the others, Danil followed Clarissa"s orders. He lounged on the cushioned bench, feeling tired now, worn out by his night work and the energy it had taken to come to this house and initiate this conversation.

  Though he was in another room, he could see the four of them sitting around the kitchen table and hear the disembodied male voice coming from the speakerphone. It seemed the authorities had nothing new to report on Clarissa"s husband. "It"s not like a television show; things don"t always happen between commercials," the voice said. The man sounded calm and friendly. But Danil felt a rush of distrust, knowing that a level of bureaucracy, combined with covert political concerns and a wide river of details that fell under the umbrella of "national security," all tended to disguise facts and smudge meanings. He wondered how much of that Clarissa had already discovered.

  The group talked for about ten minutes and the mumble of their voices turned into Piotr"s voice. "It"s weird," Piotr had told him in one of their few overseas phone conversations. "In some ways, I feel faceless here, the proverbial cog on the wheel. In others, Dani, I feel like I belong. For the first time in my life."

  "You didn"t feel that before?" Danil knew he sounded a little hurt.

  "You know what I mean. We need each other here."

  "I need you, bro." Danil startled even as he said it. He"d been so clear about Piotr needing him that he hadn"t realized until that moment it we
nt the other way, too.

  "I know, man," Piotr had said, struggling for the words. "But everything"s different over here. All we"ve got is each other. You get all these dark thoughts—" He broke off, giving up. "Anyway, this is only for now. I"ll be home soon."