“Okay. I’m like Neil Armstrong, right? I go where no man has gone before,” he said with hands on his hips like his father.

“Yes, you are.” She laughed. “But instead of outer space, you can be a great explorer of inner space.”

“Yes!” He jumped up and down. “That’s what I’m going to be.”

Ashif walks to the edge of the ice to where he and Ms. Clarke once were. He leans down and peers under the ice. Water gushes under the surface. He gets the bottle of water from his jacket pocket, empties it out, and then reaches his hand under the stream and fills the bottle.

By the time he wanders back to the parking lot, the afternoon sun is low in the horizon, casting a pinkish glow over the mountains. He unlocks the back door of the car, slips off his coat, and throws it in. The seat and floor are covered with his father’s odometer log books, the ones he had hoped were diaries. Is this the only record of his father’s life? Then he thinks of his own life. What if there was an odometer recording his journeys? The endless kilometres of running, from everything and everyone. Running and running, but he never gets anywhere. Like running on the spot. He can’t get away. Not even from himself.

He sits heavily in the driver’s seat. He uncaps the bottle of glacial water and tips it back, empties it. He’s never felt this parched in his life. He shifts the car into drive and begins his journey home.

Chapter 24

LAYLA CONSIDERS WAKING ASHIF. It’s still early, but he was fast asleep when she came home from jamatkhana with Shamma and Almas at nine last night. She decides to let him rest. He must need it. She has been up for hours. She couldn’t sleep, but she also wanted to start cooking for the bhati, the wake that would normally take place right after the funeral. The Mayat and Ghusal Committee always takes care of feeding the jamat, but she wanted to contribute a dish and they accepted.

She pours holy water from a perfume-shaped bottle into an Arabic teacup. She cradles the pyali in her palms, one over the other, shuts her eyes and asks Allah to please forgive her sins. She then throws her head back and swallows the niyaz in one gulp, as if it’s medicine, and it is. Holy water heals the body.

Arzeen asked Layla if she wanted to be present when they pulled Mansoor’s life support. Layla was distraught by the idea, but said yes. She wanted to be with her husband when he passed from this world to the next. Mukhi Sahib came with her. He arrived earlier to give her his support and also perform the chanta-holy water ceremony on Mansoor’s body. But first, he suggested she take a few minutes alone with him.