Ashif stood at his bedroom window, frozen in place. In the street below, his father piled the boxes into his Chevy. His father never told him what he did with his notebooks and he never asked. That night, he wet his bed. When his mother found the soiled sheets crumpled under his bed, he begged her not to tell his father. She didn’t. On that day or the many times after. He couldn’t bear the idea of his father finding out there was yet something else wrong with him. Then his father would stop loving him for sure.

“Sir! Are you alright?” the driver calls out to him from the road.

Ashif comes back. “Yes, fine. Just a bout of asthma.”

Back inside the limousine, Ashif calls his broker and arranges to cash out his investments. Then he calls his mother. He asks her to tell his father to meet him for breakfast in the Air Canada business lounge tomorrow. He doesn’t want his father to come to his hotel, even if it’s right there. When she asks if everything is okay, he says he’s taking care of everything, just as he promised. “Don’t worry. Pappa’s going to be fine. We all are.”

“Thank you, bheta,” she says. “You are the best son.”

At the airport, the limousine pulls into the U-shaped driveway of his hotel. The driver jumps out and holds the door open for him. Ashif steps out with his briefcase. A doorman wearing a red uniform adorned with gold buttons opens the hotel doors.

“Welcome, sir,” he says.

Ashif hands him the bag of food from his mother. “Can you throw this out for me, please?”

“Of course, sir.”

Ashif straightens his suit jacket, then marches into the lobby full of businessmen.

Chapter 10

WHEN LAYLA TELLS MANSOOR that Ashif wants to meet him for breakfast, he’s confused. His son never wants to see him without his mother. Then it becomes clear: his son’s loyalties are shifting back to him. What else could it be? He asked Ashif to come back and now he has. Mansoor has waited for such a long time for this moment. He laughs. He has been right all along. That’s all his son needed. The proper guidance to do the right thing. That’s all every child needs.

When Ashif was a child, he noticed the boy’s oddities. He spent much of his time alone instead of playing with other children. He was always so quiet, too, as if he was lost inside himself. He could lie on the grass and stare at the clouds for hours. He’d even seen him with his ear pressed against a tree, as if listening for a heartbeat. This wasn’t normal behaviour! He worried his son would be bullied at school—odd children always are, especially boys.

He didn’t want Ashif to stick out. Like so many who came to this country. People who preferred their old ways, glued together like a herd of sheep. Wasn’t that the reason Amin threw them out to begin with? Mansoor was clear. He would not repeat the mistakes of Uganda. You have to get along with the people you live amongst. Assimilate! He would never return to Uganda, either, like those who galloped back the second Indians were invited back. Fine. Go. Who wants people like them, anyway? As if Canada was just a stopover. Not for Mansoor. He was committed to this country and this country alone. It was the only way to have deep roots and build a real home. There was nothing he wanted more for his family. His son would have to learn how to stand out for the right reasons (talent and accomplishment) but blend in otherwise. It was crucial for his success here.