<html><head><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"></head><body dir="auto"><div dir="ltr"><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;"><font color="#111111">The Only Cab Service of Farmington, Maine</font></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;"><font color="#111111">He makes me sit next to him, so I inquire—<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">as if remembering his own smallness<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">would prevent him from violating another’s—<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">about his childhood. Cape Cod, he recalls:</font></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;"><font color="#111111">how lonely he felt among the blue expanse<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">each winter, longed to travel, so he joined<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">the Marines.<i style="box-sizing: border-box;"> And I did travel</i>, he fools,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">all the way to Afghanistan</i>. When I tell him</font></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;"><font color="#111111">that’s where I’m from, his laugh crumbles,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">and I am sorry for a trembling in me<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">or in him, I can’t tell. Too chagrined to look<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">at his face, I observe krumholz, blurs</font></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;"><font color="#111111">of frozen buds. <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Afghans are good people</i>,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">though</i>, he disarms himself. <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">And damn,</i><i style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;"></i><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">that food</i>. But I loathe my Afghan blood,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">especially here, amid snowy balsam firs</font></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;"><font color="#111111">and cookie-cutter houses. <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">They saved,</i><i style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;"></i><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">you know</i>, his words butter me, <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">my life—</i><i style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;"></i><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">gave me bread, warmth. They didn’t</i><i style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;"></i><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">have to. Bad things happened. Awful</i></font></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;"><font color="#111111"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">things</i>. Nothing is calmer today: Kabul<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">still mourns contaminated water,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">and another suicide bomber. <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">I shouldn’t</i><i style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;"></i><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">tell you this, but,</i> he coughs—<i style="box-sizing: border-box;">I miss</i></font></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;"><font color="#111111"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">it sometimes. The provinces were so hot—</i><i style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;"></i><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">it was like another planet. </i>I will never<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">feel at ease here, between subalpine hills, gas<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">stations advertising Nescafe and Dove.</font></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;"><font color="#111111"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">But after eight years on the base,</i> his voice<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">clear as a fist, <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">you wake up, hating</i><i style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;"></i><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">the person in the mirror. Now my life</i><i style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;"></i><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">is about forgetting. </i>Is memory a privilege?</font></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;"><font color="#111111">I couldn’t, after I arrived in the States,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">remember a single damn village. Is it a sin,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">then, to be envious that my driver<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">had a home in my home—yellow dust on long,</font></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;"><font color="#111111">mountainous roads, where twenty-two civilians<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">died in the fourth attack this month—for longer<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">than I ever did? He has, I feel, estranged me.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">You know, </i>I hear his heavy, American voice</font></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;"><font color="#111111">crack like a creek thawing under a deer, <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">it’s good</i><i style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;"></i><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">to be back.</i> The unspeakable opens between us<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">its waters, cold, full of shame, until we drift apart<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">again, never asking for each other’s names.</font></p><div><br></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>- <span style="caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17);">Aria Aber</span></div></div></body></html>