Jenna stared for a long moment, almost overcome by a rush of tender- ness. She found her voice, trying to keep her manner light. “Laila! What a surprise. How good to see you! What brings you here?”

“Well, I … actually, I came to say good-bye. Not good-bye exactly, not forever, but I’m going away.”

“To France?” Jenna’s heart sank. Though she hadn’t seen her niece in— God, how long?—it had been a comfort to know that she was in New York, within easy reach. They had talked a couple of times on the telephone, and Jenna had tried to make that enough.

“No. Nothing like that. I transferred to UCLA. I’m going to study film- making. It’s a really good school for that, you know.”

“So I’ve heard. But what about New York? I thought you loved being in the city. Come in, Laila, don’t stand in the doorway. We can talk inside.” Laila took a few steps forward, then stopped. “I can only stay a minute. I have a ride—some friends who dropped me off. They just went to the deli. They’ll be back any second.”

“You came all the way to Boston to stop by for a minute?” Jenna couldn’t make any sense of this.

“I was visiting these friends. From school.” Laila looked around the apartment, not really taking it in, avoiding Jenna’s eyes. She swallowed hard. “I was raped, you know,” she said, her voice so low it could hardly be heard. “Four months ago. No, don’t look like that. I’m all right. Really.”

No, please no, Jenna begged a distant and remote God. Not my beautiful niece.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, struggling to maintain control. “What happened?”

Laila shrugged, a gesture belied by the pain that showed in her face. “It was someone I knew. I even kind of liked him.” She shrugged again. “There’s no point in going over it. Talking can’t change what happened.”

Jenna yearned to hold her close and comfort her, but everything about Laila said she wanted distance. Not good, Jenna thought, making a professional observation. And the flattened affect, that's not good either. “Have you seen anyone? A therapist?”

“Yeah, sure. She helped some … I guess.” Laila seemed to be studying her shoes. “You know, I thought of coming to you, but it would’ve been like, I don’t know, going to see my mother. Maybe that sounds silly, but …”

“No, no, it doesn’t.” It was all Jenna could do to hold back her tears.

“But I’m okay now. It’s just one reason I transferred. I wanted to get away.” Though Jenna understood all too well the needs that drove a woman to flee, she wanted to tell Laila that running away wasn’t always the answer. “Are you sure—” she began, but at that moment, Karim appeared.