A Cup of Friendship Read Online Free PDF Page A

mango.”
    “Anything else, sir?” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
    “Another cappuccino.” He took a last slug from his cup and wiped the froth from his top lip with the back of his hand.
    “We have things called ‘napkins’ for that very purpose,” Sunny said.
    “But then I wouldn’t piss you off, would I?” he replied, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. He took his napkin from his lap and dabbed his mouth delicately, a bemused look on his craggy face.
    Sunny couldn’t stop herself from grinning as she turned back to the counter. “Jack wants the regular,” she called to Bashir Hadi.
    “Watch out, you, ’cuz I’ll be back,” she said to Jack as he picked up his newspaper.
    She was surprised at how much his presence instantly brightened her mood. He’d been gone for more than a month. His work, as a consultant for rural development, often took him to remote parts of the country where he worked with engineers and contractors to bring irrigation, paved roads, and electricity to impoverished, backward areas. Or something like that. Sunny learned long ago that “consultant” was the label in Kabul for anybody doing something they couldn’t talk about. Jack didn’t speak much about the NGOs that hired him or the specifics of his job. All Sunny knew for sure was that he was married, had a kid in high school back home, and liked his eggs cooked through. And that he was funny and made her laugh. What he was doing here, with his family over there, she wasn’t sure. Except maybe it was for the same reason 99.9 percent of the other foreigners were here: to make money. In Afghanistan, a guy who made forty, fifty thousand dollars a year back home could make ten times that just for “danger pay.” If you were willing to die, you could earn a shitload to live.
    Tommy was proof of that, Sunny thought. The love of her life, her reason for coming to Kabul, left her every few weeks for more lucrative possibilities. And Sunny had adapted to life in this town alone. Life happens , was her motto. You adapt or you’re lost.
    Look at Yazmina, Sunny thought, who was cleaning a table toward the back of the coffeehouse. Only a few weeks ago Sunny had brought her here and introduced her to indoor plumbing and electricity. When she’d turned on the light in her room for the first time, Yazmina jumped. Halajan had had to explain the use of the toilet, which made Sunny smile just remembering her crude explanation. But when Yazmina told Halajan that where she was from, you never did your dirty business in the house and that it was very primitive of them to do such business under the same roof where they ate and slept, Halajan folded over in laughter. When she’d shown Yazmina the shower, turning on first the cold and then the hot water, the young woman’s face lit up and she put her hand into the warm stream, felt it against her skin, and watched it flow down her arm. She looked as if she’d seen a miracle.
    Yazmina was completely covered in the lavender chaderi that she’d worn when she’d first arrived. It certainly wasn’t as beautiful as the one Sunny had seen her in at the Women’s Ministry, with its handmade embroidery. But that one had been torn and ruined by her ordeal and now was kept folded and hidden under her pillow. Sunny had seen it one morning when she’d gone to Yazmina’s room to give her an extra blanket for the cold nights. She’d marveled at the chaderi ’s beautiful work, and though she would never let Yazmina know she’d seen it, she vowed to herself that one day soon, she’d take Yazmina for a handmade shalwaar kameez or two. Something bright and pretty to make her feel better about being here while her family was so far away. Something light and comfortable for her to grow into as her pregnancy was further along. She hadn’t mentioned to Yazmina that she knew, not wanting to embarrass her. But the day was coming when she’d have to, if only to get her a doctor and to