able.
Love,
Layla
Groggy from jetlag and from the lack of sleep, Lourds forced himself out of bed long enough to sit on the edge and look out the window over the city. The blue towers in the distance looked like something out of a fantasy world. He thought of going to the Kharabat neighborhood, thinking that perhaps a casual stroll through the workshops where musicians made their own instruments and composed daily might be a diversion.
When the Taliban had been in power, the musicians left the historic quarter, but they’d been coming back since the terrorists had been routed. That section of the city had almost been destroyed during the Soviet occupation during the 1980s, but the musicians had returned then as well. Now, their sons and daughters worked to rebuild the area after the Taliban had been sent packing.
There was something eternal about walking through the neighborhood. Musicians occupied half-built workshops, and they sang and laughed amid the rubble, finding their muse in the darkest corners. The trips Lourds had made through the Kharabat had always been uplifting.
But he didn’t feel like going today.
Normally, he’d be excited to greet the new day while in one of the ancient cities. There was so much to study, so much to imagine. But the familiar wanderlust wasn’t in him at the moment. He felt...empty. And that wasn’t something he’d ever experienced in quite this way before.
He didn’t know what he was going to do. He didn’t want to do anything. He simply wanted Layla back with him. Reaching into his pants, which were neatly folded on the nearby chair, he took out the engagement ring and examined it again.
Sunlight filtering through the curtains covering the window splintered light from the diamond. After a while, he closed the box, put it away, and lay back down on the bed.
Mercifully, he slept.
***
The phone beside the bed rang and woke Lourds. Instinctively, he threw out a hand and managed to snare the handset. “Hello.”
“Mr. Lourds?”
Lourds almost corrected the man, ready to tell him it was Professor or Doctor , but not mister. But that was irritation at being awoken, and at being alone, not a true pride thing. Instead, he just confirmed his identity.
“This is the hotel desk, sir. I have an urgent phone call for you.”
That announcement woke Lourds more fully. His first concern was for Layla, that she might have fallen asleep while driving and had an accident.
“Of course. Put it through.” He glanced at the clock and saw that it was a few minutes before nine. The whole day still loomed before him.
The phone clicked a couple times.
“Thomas?”
It took Lourds just a second to put a name to the voice. “Boris?”
“ Da .”
“You’re calling early.”
“It’s almost nine.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“I called your office number, hoping you were working late, and talked with some young woman named Tina. I’m also told nuptials are in order. Quite surprising, actually, but not so surprising in another light.”
Lourds worked out the time differential between Kabul and Cambridge. It was almost midnight Monday in Cambridge. The only way she would have gotten Boris’s call was if she was working late at the university or had forwarded his phone calls to her phone the way she used to do. He resolved to have a talk with young Dr. Tina Metcalf when he returned to Harvard. She was far too free with his surprises.
“Well, keep the nuptials to yourself, Boris. I haven’t gotten to ask Layla yet.”
“I tender my good wishes anyway. You two will make a fine couple.”
“Thanks. I’m going to have to have a word with Tina in order to make sure the first person Layla hears this from is me.”
“Layla won’t hear it from me. And don’t punish Miss Metcalf for me calling you. I told her that it was a matter of life and death.”
That caught Lourds’s attention immediately. “Are you in trouble?”
Boris chuckled. “No. I am in
Love,
Layla
Groggy from jetlag and from the lack of sleep, Lourds forced himself out of bed long enough to sit on the edge and look out the window over the city. The blue towers in the distance looked like something out of a fantasy world. He thought of going to the Kharabat neighborhood, thinking that perhaps a casual stroll through the workshops where musicians made their own instruments and composed daily might be a diversion.
When the Taliban had been in power, the musicians left the historic quarter, but they’d been coming back since the terrorists had been routed. That section of the city had almost been destroyed during the Soviet occupation during the 1980s, but the musicians had returned then as well. Now, their sons and daughters worked to rebuild the area after the Taliban had been sent packing.
There was something eternal about walking through the neighborhood. Musicians occupied half-built workshops, and they sang and laughed amid the rubble, finding their muse in the darkest corners. The trips Lourds had made through the Kharabat had always been uplifting.
But he didn’t feel like going today.
Normally, he’d be excited to greet the new day while in one of the ancient cities. There was so much to study, so much to imagine. But the familiar wanderlust wasn’t in him at the moment. He felt...empty. And that wasn’t something he’d ever experienced in quite this way before.
He didn’t know what he was going to do. He didn’t want to do anything. He simply wanted Layla back with him. Reaching into his pants, which were neatly folded on the nearby chair, he took out the engagement ring and examined it again.
Sunlight filtering through the curtains covering the window splintered light from the diamond. After a while, he closed the box, put it away, and lay back down on the bed.
Mercifully, he slept.
***
The phone beside the bed rang and woke Lourds. Instinctively, he threw out a hand and managed to snare the handset. “Hello.”
“Mr. Lourds?”
Lourds almost corrected the man, ready to tell him it was Professor or Doctor , but not mister. But that was irritation at being awoken, and at being alone, not a true pride thing. Instead, he just confirmed his identity.
“This is the hotel desk, sir. I have an urgent phone call for you.”
That announcement woke Lourds more fully. His first concern was for Layla, that she might have fallen asleep while driving and had an accident.
“Of course. Put it through.” He glanced at the clock and saw that it was a few minutes before nine. The whole day still loomed before him.
The phone clicked a couple times.
“Thomas?”
It took Lourds just a second to put a name to the voice. “Boris?”
“ Da .”
“You’re calling early.”
“It’s almost nine.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“I called your office number, hoping you were working late, and talked with some young woman named Tina. I’m also told nuptials are in order. Quite surprising, actually, but not so surprising in another light.”
Lourds worked out the time differential between Kabul and Cambridge. It was almost midnight Monday in Cambridge. The only way she would have gotten Boris’s call was if she was working late at the university or had forwarded his phone calls to her phone the way she used to do. He resolved to have a talk with young Dr. Tina Metcalf when he returned to Harvard. She was far too free with his surprises.
“Well, keep the nuptials to yourself, Boris. I haven’t gotten to ask Layla yet.”
“I tender my good wishes anyway. You two will make a fine couple.”
“Thanks. I’m going to have to have a word with Tina in order to make sure the first person Layla hears this from is me.”
“Layla won’t hear it from me. And don’t punish Miss Metcalf for me calling you. I told her that it was a matter of life and death.”
That caught Lourds’s attention immediately. “Are you in trouble?”
Boris chuckled. “No. I am in
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