The images of Rather and Genevieve dissolved to a commercial. Jenna stared numbly. “No,” she heard herself say, “no, no, no!” She was too shocked for tears. Poor Genevieve. Except for that brief moment of kindred feeling in al-Remal, Jenna had never known her sister-in-law, and now she never would. She flipped through the channels, hoping to learn more about the accident. Finding nothing, she replayed the story from memory. One thing especially struck her: Malik might easily have been in the car. If so, he would have died believing in her own “death.” The idea filled her with unbearable guilt.

Turning off the television, she rummaged through her desk until she found some plain white stationery and wrote:

Dearest brother,

My heart aches for you. I can only try to imagine your pain and your loss. I wish I could kiss and comfort you. But I cannot. I beg your forgiveness for causing you sorrow. That choice was not lightly made, and I can only hope that you understand how necessary it was.

Life has been lonely and hard, but I am well, thank God, and so is Karim. I have established a successful career in work I love. That and my son sustain me. I hope that you, too, can find solace in your daughter’s love and in knowing that your sister thinks of you often and wishes with all her heart to see you once more.

She would mail it in the morning—first thing, before she could lose her nerve. But when morning came, so did doubt and fear. If she simply dropped the letter in the nearest mailbox, the Boston postmark would give her away. She should drive to some little town in the countryside, maybe even across the line in Rhode Island or Connecticut. Maybe even New York. She slipped the letter into her shoulder bag. She would mail it, she promised herself, definitely she would. But not just now.

29. Carolyn

Carolyn

Preoccupied with Genevieve’s death, and how it must be affecting Malik and Laila, Jenna would have forgotten the brunch invitation had Carolyn not called to remind her, and she would have canceled if she could have invented a plausible excuse on the spur of the moment. As it was, she promised to be there.

It turned out to be an anticlimax—pleasant, but hardly the adventure Jenna had half hoped for and half dreaded. The guests all seemed to have gone to college together and to know the same people and the same stories. A faint aura of Beacon Hill hung over the whole scene. The lone single male, a corporate lawyer—rather transparently a pairing for Jenna—drank several Bloody Marys and became sentimental about his ex-wife; it was, apparently, the first anniversary of their divorce.

Carolyn called later to apologize. She made several wicked comments at the lawyer’s expense. Jenna couldn’t help laughing. That was the real beginning of their friendship.