The mechanic, still holding the paper, turned to the young fat woman, took the soft belt of her ruffled robe, and pulled hard. It came out of its loops and into his hands in the most masterful motion, but the robe remained on the woman undisturbed. She laughed. This provoked the mechanic. In Arabic he said, in sweet tones, as if he were speaking to his mother or his sister, “I would like to fuck you up the ass and make you scream with fear, you bitch whore.” Apparently she knew the word whore, or maybe more, for she took the belt out of his hands, spit in his face, and kneed him between the legs. All the while, the robe remained on her person. The mechanic was on the floor. The young woman disappeared and a door slammed shut.

Aziz picked up a glass by the sink and filled it with water. He grabbed a roll of paper towels and knelt by the mechanic’s head. “Here,” he said, “here.” The mechanic was lost to pain, doubled over. He did not look up.

Aziz waited. He could hear a stereo being turned on somewhere, the music so loud it seemed as if it were right there with them in the kitchen. He put the glass of water and the paper towels down and rounded the kitchen corner into a part of the apartment he had not seen before. There were two doors. By now it was raining or snowing, something was hitting against the outside windows, and it was dark for midday. But his sense of time was distorted; it could have been morning or closer to suppertime.

His feet, without warning, had switched to highest pain. He dropped to his knees to get off them, kneeling and rocking a little. Then he steadied himself with a hand on the wall. The music was coming from one of the doors, and he moved closer, very slowly, finally resting his ear in the place right by the doorsill as he had learned to do with his sisters, so he could hear them talking to their boyfriends who were whispering from the window outside in the tree. Sure enough, the woman in the robe was talking—on the phone, he guessed—and sobbing and straining and wheezing. In between the sounds, there were many other words in English, but Rafik was the refrain. This must be Heather.