“Yes, I suppose that is the best way. You brought some money?”
Saleem pulled out his passport and the folded-up bills. Roksana told him to hold on to it. She looked for an open counter and indicated for Saleem to follow. She stepped up to the clerk and put on an especially cheerful voice. Saleem watched as she chatted amicably. The clerk, a middle-aged woman that Saleem would not have thought to approach, laughed and shook her head. Roksana half turned to Saleem and held out her hand. He gave her the money and passport without the clerk noticing.
They walked away with train tickets to Patras. Roksana was so at ease. Saleem could not recall the last time he’d been so comfortable. It seemed like all his life, his movements had been shadowed by fear. The monster may have changed shape and color over the years, but it was steps behind him, always.
Today was Wednesday. Their tickets were for Friday morning. Weekend travel was busier and they would stand a better chance of getting lost in the crowd. Madar-jan had decided it was time to sell off some of her jewelry. Saleem would need a day to find a way to turn her bangles into cash they could use for food and transportation.
“I do have some good news,” Roksana said as they reached the street. “I wish it could have come sooner. I found a place for you and your family to stay. I know you’ll be leaving soon, but at least you won’t be on the street. One room. It is an older hotel run by a couple—my friend’s grandparents. They are selling the hotel in two or three weeks to retire and it is in bad shape, but they have a room. They’ll ask you to help them with a few things around the hotel, since they are old, but they are kind people. I explained your situation and they said if you help them enough with their move, they will not ask any money of you.”
“Yes,” Saleem agreed excitedly. He could hardly believe their good luck. Maybe Madar-jan had been right. Maybe last night’s rain had brought roshanee after all. Roksana handed him a scrap of paper with the hotel’s address on it.
“Don’t thank me. You can thank them. Good luck, Saleem. I know it’s not easy, especially with the entire family. I really hope the rest of Europe treats you well.” She looked at her watch. “I need to get back home, but I’ll be here Friday morning before you leave. I want to make sure you all get on the train. And I’ll write for you which ferry you’ll need to take from Patras. You know, in Patras there is a large camp of refugees. More Afghans are there than in Attiki and the situation is not good. Do not end up there, Saleem. From what I hear, it is a dead end.”
He nodded, then watched her slide her backpack over her shoulder and cross the street. He would have one more chance to see her. He hadn’t been ready to say good-bye to her today.
Their looming departure made him more anxious. He did not know what would be available to them once they got on the train or even in Patras. He stopped by a few markets on his way back and snuck away with what he could. He pushed aside thoughts of Roksana and reminded himself of the dwindling funds he’d counted out with Madar-jan. It was almost dark by the time he got back to his family. Madar-jan looked relieved to see him.