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The Submission - Amy Waldman [152]

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under a spell. I didn’t think to ask anything. I didn’t want to ruin it. He said it was the Quran, and I was like, okay. But which verses? What’s the message? We’ll have to get someone to translate it.”

The screen unfroze. A few moments later—or much longer—Molly’s voice floated over the scene. “What would you say to Claire Burwell about the garden? It’s obviously the same, but different. I mean, the names.” Not just the names, Claire thought—the steel trees upside down. The emir couldn’t have wanted that. These were messages.

Khan was walking back toward the garden’s entrance now, not looking at the camera. When he spoke, she couldn’t see his face.

“Use your imagination,” he said. Claire heard his words, closed her eyes, tried to see her husband’s name. But the Arabic script ensnared her like concertina wire.

Use your imagination.

She had, and with it assumed the worst. When she opened her eyes, Khan was gone. Only the garden, empty, remained. The camera, or the hand holding it—her son’s hand—trembled. How else to explain why the image before her pulsed with life?

“Mom,” she heard William say. “Mom—are you still with us? I want you to see one more thing.”

The screen showed, in close-up, a few small rocks stacked in a corner of the garden.

“It was the best I could do,” said William. “There wasn’t much time.”

He was waiting for her reaction. A paltry heap of pebbles: she didn’t see what he wanted her to see.

“The cairns, Mom. You remember.”

That day flooded back, the shade of every stone, the shape of every mound they left for Cal to find his way, even as she lost hers.

In Khan’s garden, her son had laid his hand. With a pile of stones, he had written a name.

Like the cypress tree, which holds its head high and is free within the confines of a garden, I, too, feel free in this world, and I am not bound by its attachments.

—an unidentified Pashto poet

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thank you:

Bill Clegg and Courtney Hodell

The American Academy in Berlin, Ledig House International Writers Residency, the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study, the Frederick Lewis Allen Memorial Room at the New York Public Library

Lorraine Adams, Katherine Boo, Chloe Breyer, Rodrigo Corral, Kimberly Cutter, Shaun Dolan, Jonathan Galassi, Scott Glass, Eliza Griswold, Juliette Kayyem, Mark Krotov, Mark Laird, Siddhartha Mukherjee, Ratish Nanda, Philip Nobel, Rachel Nolan, Asad Raza, Sarah Sayeed, Jeff Seroy, Mohammad Shaheer, Lisa Silverman, Brenda Star, Sarah Sze, Sarita Varma, Abdul Waheed Wafa, Don Waldman, Marilyn Waldman

Oliver and Theodora, and Alex most of all

A NOTE ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Amy Waldman was co-chief of the South Asia bureau of The New York Times and a national correspondent for The Atlantic. Her fiction has appeared in The Atlantic and the Boston Review and is anthologized in The Best American Nonrequired Reading 2010. She lives in Brooklyn.

For sources of information and inspiration for The Submission, please see www.thesubmissionnovel.com.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Farrar, Straus and Giroux

18 West 18th Street, New York 10011

Copyright © 2011 by Amy Waldman

All rights reserved

www.fsgbooks.com

Designed by Jonathan D. Lippincott

eISBN 9781429958288

First eBook Edition : June 2011

First edition, 2011

The poem quoted in the epigraph is from The Afghans, by Mohammed Ali, Kabul, 1969.

Portions of this novel have previously been published in slightly different form in The Atlantic.

Waldman, Amy, 1969—

The submission / Amy Waldman.—1st ed.

p. cm.

1. September 11 Terrorist Attacks, 2001—Social aspects—

Fiction. 2. Memorials—Designs and plans—Fiction.

I. Title.

PS3623.A35675S83 2011

813’.6—dc22

2011007509

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