He lifts his head up. In the distance, a dark shape swishes effortlessly toward him. He flails his arms, splashing ice and water. “Help me, Pappa! Please…” A wave rolls in and sinks him into darkness.

When he emerges, a woman reaches down from a canoe and plucks him out of the water. In her arms, he becomes a baby. Her hair is thick and black. It wraps around her body, an endless sari that flows out and over the boat, as if her hair is the ocean. He looks up at her and gurgles. “Babu,” she says, stroking his cheek. “I am here.” She ties the baby to her body, using her hair as a sling. She reaches down for the paddles then speeds them away toward the Eastern horizon, and Mansoor falls into a peaceful sleep. Shanti, shanti, shanti.

Chapter 23

CLOSE TO BANFF NATIONAL PARK, Ashif pulls into a gas station. He hadn’t expected to drive out this far.

A gas station attendant steps up to his car.

“Fill?” he asks when Ashif slides open the window, his breath visible in the frosty air.

“Yes, thanks,” he says, lifting a lever to pop open the gas tank.

The attendant pulls out a small bottle of water branded with a smiling tiger on it. “On the house.”

Ashif takes the bottle then reaches for the envelope with Shafina’s letter tucked between the windshield and dashboard.

“And don’t forget this is in here,” Al-Karim said, waving the car registration and insurance in the air before tucking it back in the glove compartment. Ashif nodded. Al-Karim dangled the keys off a finger. Ashif reached for them, but Al-Karim jerked them away at the last second. “You’re sure you can drive, right?”

“Of course.” Ashif rolled his eyes. “I’m sixteen.” He got his licence out and held it up to Al-Karim. The photograph showed Ashif wearing a beret, a shadow of a moustache on his upper lip, his smile wide and silver with braces. He had taken the driver’s test the week after his birthday and passed. When Al-Karim heard the news, he made a pact with Ashif. He would lend him his car for an evening in exchange for a promise: Shafina wouldn’t tell her father where Arzeen was—his basement apartment.

Ashif and Shafina discussed options for their night out. A Beauty Salon field trip. Maybe a movie—they both wanted to see The Fly. Or else, a fancy dinner at 4th Street Rose or maybe Tokyo Sushi—neither one of them had tried sushi before. Or they could explore the art galleries along Seventeenth Avenue. In the end, Shafina decided it would be too risky for her to venture out in public. Someone might report her to her father. “Let’s just go to Fish Creek Park and hang out,” she said with a glint in her eye, and it was exactly what he wanted, too.

He parked the car in an empty lot close to the creek. It was dark except for the soft glow of street lamps.