Vassily the convert did not mean to harm Mr. Yehoshafat with the pistol he had cleaned and oiled. Now he has come to ask for love and forgiveness because his intentions were good. He gave me a pressed cyclamen. And a little English book from India about karmic suffering and astral light.

They are both asleep now. One hardly talks because it makes him sad to be like all the others, and one talks all the time because it makes him sad to be different. I accept them.

All that night after our hike when the power was off, he kept on playing and singing. He didn’t dare stop out of fear we might say, thank you, good night. Until finally I said to him, let’s go to bed now, Zaro, you can play some more tomorrow.

Never mind, Yoni said, he can sleep right here on the couch. Yoni, Zaro, I said, off to bed with you both. And because there were no lights, I lit a candle in the corner of the kitchen and another by the radio. Yoni fell asleep in his clothes on our bed, and I was left with the boy.

Excuse me, I said, I’m getting undressed and going to sleep. He was frightened and begged me in a whisper to forgive him for being so vile. But you’re not, I said, you’re good. Don’t be sad.