“As you can see, you already have one e-mail,” he said, pointing to a line on the screen. He instructed me how to open it and leaned in when I did. I pushed him out of the way. “I can read on my own,” I said.

Dear Nahr,

I hope it’s okay to call you by that name. I am sorry I could not be there myself today. Something came up with the family, but I did my best not to disappoint you. If you’re reading this, it means that the courier delivered a sealed package for you. I owe you a debt and it gives me pleasure to think I might be of some help to you now. I believe it was fate that we ran into each other.

Your friend,

Mohsin

P.S. The phone is paid for one year in Jordan. When you get to Palestine, you will need to buy a local SIM card.

I clicked the box labeled Reply and typed with two fingers: You never owed me anything. But whatever debt you may have felt, consider it paid in full and more. P.S. The package was still sealed, and the young man went above and beyond.

Then I clicked Send.

“Tell me when you’re ready to respond, I will show you how,” the young man said.

“Boy, I already did it. I’m good at the Internet,” I said. He looked at me with a blank stare. “But I have some questions. Sit down. I’ll buy you a cup of tea. I told Mohsin you went above and beyond.”

The boy relented and sat with me for some tea. He answered my questions with the limited patience one has for a small child. I learned that I did not have to come back to the same computer forever to access my mailbox. I could do that from any computer in the world. I thought the e-mail I sent would take days to be delivered, but he assured me it was already in the recipient’s mailbox. Just like that. I didn’t believe him, so he demonstrated with a test e-mail from his own e-mail to mine. Finally he explained what a SIM card was.

“Madam, thank you for the tea, but I really must go,” he said. “Best of luck to you.”

“Thank you!” I said, contemplating the difference between us. He was not much younger than me, but I was already much older in those days when I was still in my twenties.

IV. Palestine

IV.

PALESTINE

The Cube, South

THE CUBE, SOUTH

A VAULT DOOR on the south side is the only entrance and exit. Food comes through a waist-high rectangular opening. Sometimes books are pushed through the same slot.

The first books I received preceded the first visitors by three bowel movements. One book was about blue whales, one on the cosmos, and another a bad translation of a badly written Western romance novel. I devoured them before the visitors arrived and had begun rereading about blue whales. Such extraordinary creatures. True gentle giants, full of mystery and romance, like the ocean itself.