The Girl · Eleven Steps From the Edge · Pulse Beat
Pema's daughter, Karma, was five and had her father's golden-brown eyes. She stood behind her mother's skirt for a long time, regarding Tashi gravely. Then she came forward and held out, in both…
Pema's daughter, Karma, was five and had her father's golden-brown eyes.
She stood behind her mother's skirt for a long time, regarding Tashi gravely. Then she came forward and held out, in both hands, a small battered camera. "This is Papa's," she said. "Mama says you brought it."
"Yes."
"It has pictures." She frowned. "I can't make it work."
Tashi took it, very carefully. It was a cheap digital camera, scuffed, the lens cap lost. He found the button, and the screen glowed, small and grainy, and he sat on the chopping block with the girl beside him and showed her the pictures one by one: Dorje at base camp, laughing; Dorje on the glacier, with his arms out; Dorje, golden tooth gleaming, holding up a tin of sardines. And the last one, taken at a ledge in the dark, a little blurred, a shot of the summit ridge at night, with a line of small headlamp lights going up into a sky of stars.
"He was taking a picture," Karma said softly. "For me."
"Yes," said Tashi. "He was."