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Cutting for Stone - Abraham Verghese [135]

By Root 1213 0
his belly in and out ten times, of lying across the mattress for a few minutes so his head hung back over the edge—”antigravity” maneuvers, as he called them—were unexciting, but in his absence, their importance was revealed. “Another day in paradise” was his inevitable pronouncement when he settled his head on his pillow. Now I understood what that meant: the uneventful day was a precious gift. The three of us lay there and waited as if he'd just gone to the kitchen and would fill the doorway any second. Hema sobbed. She voiced our thoughts when she said, “Lord, I promise never to take that man for granted again.”

Matron, who'd decided to sleep in our house, in the bed that belonged to me and Shiva, called out, “Hema, go to sleep now. Boys, say your prayers. Don't worry.”

I prayed to all the deities in the room, from Muruga to the Bleeding Heart of Jesus.


IN THE EARLY MORNING Almaz was back. There'd been no news. “But I stood up whenever a car came and went. If the doctor was in the car, I wanted him to see me.”

Hema and Matron planned to go to the arranged spot at ten o'clock, carrying food, blankets, and money. Then they'd make the rounds of the embassies and the royals. Hema convinced us to stay at home. “What if Ghosh calls home? Someone needs to be here to take the message.” Rosina and Genet were there, so we weren't completely alone. Almaz, after rejuvenating herself with bread and hot tea, insisted on going back to Kerchele with Hema and Matron.

By noon, they were still not back. Shiva, Genet, and I fixed sandwiches while Rosina looked on, distracted. She was red-eyed and hoarse. “Don't worry,” she said, “Ghosh will be all right.” Somehow her words weren't reassuring. Genet, pale and strangely listless, squeezed my hand.


KOOCHOOLOO WAS THE KIND OF MUTT who rarely made any noise. At Missing, barking at strangers would have been a never-ending proposition. So when I heard Koochooloo bark, I paid attention. Looking out of the living room window I saw a scruffy man in a green army jacket stroll up the driveway and disappear behind our house. Koochooloo turned rabid, unleashing a volley of deafening yelps. Her message was A very dangerous man is at our doorstep.

I ran to the kitchen where Rosina, Genet, and Shiva were already at the window. Koochooloo was just below us, loud as I had ever heard her. She moved forward, her neck disappearing in a collar of raised fur, her teeth bared. The man pulled open his heavy jacket and drew a revolver which was tucked in his pants. He had no belt, no holster, and no shirt, just a white vest. At the sight of the gun, Koochooloo fled. She was brave but not stupid.

“I know him,” Rosina whispered. “Zemui gave him a ride a few times. He is army. He used to stand just outside the gate, hoping Zemui would come by. He was always flattering Zemui. ‘Envy is behind flattery’ I told Zemui. Zemui would pretend not to see him, or he'd tell him he was going in another direction.”

The army man tucked the gun back into his pants, then he walked over to the BMW and caressed the seat.

“See! What did I tell you?” Rosina said.

“Come out, please,” he called, looking our way. “I know you're in there.”

“Stay here,” Rosina said, drawing a deep breath. “No. Don't stay. You all go by way of the front door and run to the hospital. Wait with W.W. Wait till I come for you.” She threw the bolt back. “Lock the door behind me,” she said, as she stepped out.

I cannot tell you why the three of us, instead of obeying her, simply opened the door again and followed her. It wasn't bravery. Perhaps the notion of running away felt more dangerous than staying with the one adult we could count on.

The intruder's eyes were bloodshot, and he looked as if he'd slept in his clothes, but his manner was jocular. The bulky camouflage jacket was big enough to swallow him, and yet his arms stuck out of the sleeves. He was missing his beret. He had a dark vertical furrow in the middle of his forehead, like a seam where the two halves of his face met. Despite the scraggly mustache, he looked too young for his uniform.

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