Kamal, the friend of Rafik’s from Paris, the one who had hated Heather and tried to knock her to the floor with a chair, left the afternoon of the fight. He had an apartment in East Boston but he drove a taxi, he had a Brazilian girlfriend, and Rafik had confided to Aziz that under no circumstances was Heather to know that Rafik and Kamal still got together. Aziz knew Rafik and Kamal were not right. He just hoped Rafik would never tell him the details. The two friends of Rafik’s from Germany had flown back to Munich, promising to be back. That was all, in total, that Rafik would say about them. And the friend of Rafik’s from Tunisia—whom Aziz knew for certain was a holdover from the main calamity of Rafik’s life— Rafik said he had been arrested for shoplifting some tampons for his girlfriend and ordered deported, was released on bail, and had boarded a bus to California.

There were other messes. Aziz learned of them in pieces, and sometimes those bits changed. Linda had been touch and go. The insurance company accepted that her husband, Xavier, was in the hospital, but Linda had to be talked to and calmed down almost every two or three days. Heather took care of that part of the situation. She told Linda no one would ever know.

But it was wrong, Linda said. Heather told her it was fair when you thought about it, because these were just big insurance companies with plenty of money. Someone was getting saved by this; it was humanitarian.