It had been the most humiliating moment of Ashna’s life. Or at least the most humiliating moment that she cared about. When her parents screamed at each other in front of the whole family, in front of her cousins, she had learned not to care about the shame. This had been different. Rico saw her as strong. With Rico she got to be self-possessed, like her mother. Droll and humorous, like her father. She got to be a version of herself unstained by irreparable pathos, because he gave her the gift of not coloring his vision with sympathy like everyone else in her life.

It had meant everything. Especially when all the stories of his childhood had felt so wholesome, his parents’ love for each other and him so undamaged.

That night, cleaning Baba up without having him create a scene had taken an hour. The crowd in the restaurant hadn’t thinned until after the midnight closing time. Ashna had slept on the floor next to Baba in his room behind the kitchen, because she didn’t want him alone, in case he threw up in his sleep. The EMT had performed CPR when that had happened the month before, and he had choked on his own vomit. She couldn’t have him go through that again.

The next day had also raced by. Sunday-brunch prep started at five in the morning, and Baba hadn’t risen until almost twelve hours after that.

Her finger had hovered over Rico’s number several times on Sunday evening after she was back at the Anchorage. But he hadn’t called, and she hadn’t been able to.

On Monday when she got to school, Rico was waiting for her at their usual spot near her locker. There had been a moment of terror when they studied each other, not knowing where to go from there. All Ashna wanted was to go back to how they had been, to erase those moments when he had stepped into a different part of her life. A part of her life that could take away what they had with each other. Because how would he even recognize her in that part of her life?

Rico had grabbed her bag from her, taken her hand, and asked her about calculus homework. Just like that he’d given her her wish, erased those moments that could have changed everything. And he never brought it up again.

Ashna found herself all the way at pier 24. She had walked from pier 33 without realizing it. She leaned into the railing, letting the cold metal dig into her belly, and stared at the Bay Bridge. Sure, the Golden Gate was beautiful, but this one, this one seemed to have all the magnificence but none of the glory. The female in the marriage between San Francisco’s two beloved bridges, Shobi would say.