After dinner Diane takes the girls to the movies and Muneer and Jameel take a break from CNN to watch a Clint Eastwood western on cable.

At nine o’clock, Diane comes back with Lulu. Summer is spending the night at Jenny’s.

“She doesn’t have her toothbrush or anything,” Jameel says.

“Her teeth will be fine,” Diane says.

“Why do they need to sleep over?” Muneer says.

“There’s not much sleeping that goes on,” Diane says. “They push the boundaries, stay up till dawn, in the safety of someone’s home.”

“It’s not fair I have to stay home,” Lulu says.

“Fair, shmair,” says her father. “You’ll live.”

Muneer wakes up at the break of dawn. The pullout couch’s thin mattress has been poking him in the spine. The basement is cold and moist even in summer, the dehumidifier noisy, the blanket Diane gave him no thicker or warmer than a sheet. Since he’s wide awake, he might as well wash up and pray. With his hands folded over his stomach, he recites Surat An-Nas: Say: I seek refuge in the lord of humankind. The king of humankind. The god of humankind. From the evil of the slinking whisperer. After turning his head right and left to say salaam, he cups his hands before his face and asks God for guidance.

Jameel’s family has not woken up. “Go back to the house,” Diane said last night.

Outside the sky hovers between dark and light. Muneer considers going back to bed or making coffee. Instead, he retrieves the cash and airline ticket from his suitcase. He finds car keys hanging on a hook near the front door, which he opens slowly and shuts as quietly as he can.

As he starts up the Chrysler, he remembers frigid mornings waiting for the VW to warm up. And Saeedah, pregnant with their daughter and already far from him. In this warmer weather, no need to wait.

He remembers exactly how to reach the house where Hanadi lives. The trip takes twelve minutes. The driveway is empty. A deep crack runs up one side of it, and green weeds have filled in the blank. The garage doors are closed. He waits. At eight forty-five, the garage doors slide noisily up, and the Corolla backs down the driveway, listing to one side as it drives along the crack. Two heads are visible in the front seats.

He follows the car to University Circle, careful to stay a little ways behind. It is early on Saturday, little traffic on the road. The sun burns in a hazy, no-color sky.

The Toyota pulls into the nearly empty art institute parking lot. Muneer parallel parks on the street. Hanadi gets out of the Toyota. She wears black jeans, a black T-shirt, ugly black lace-up shoes.

The woman in the car, is she Saeedah?