“Don’t worry, Mrs. Bryson,” I said. I put my arm around his shoulder, feeling goofy, theatrical, but knowing that he needed to be touched right now. “We’re glad to be here. And we’re glad to know Rashid. You’re right to be proud of him. He’s a really … a fine student and a terrific young man.”

I looked at Jerome, waiting for a similar accolade, for him to say something, for God’s sake. He looked at me, his eyes opaque. “You have to say what you believe, of course, Jana. For my part, I wish that he would do all that he is capable of,” he said slowly, very softly. “I’m afraid that he can be so angry. It sometimes gets in the way.”

The Brysons looked at Jerome, confused. Under my hands, I felt Rashid’s shoulders rise, his fists clench. I pushed down on them, lightly, quickly willing him to know what I meant; I spoke up, my voice loud, loud enough, I hoped, to drown out the echo of Jerome’s words. “Well, anger that’s out of hand is never good, is it? But I don’t think that’s Rashid’s problem.” I looked at Jerome quickly. My heart was pounding. “I don’t think that’s his problem at all. Listen, boys, Mr. and Mrs. Bryson. We’ve got to get back. Thank you for all your kindness—and for the snack.”

I smiled, my face stiff, moved to the Brysons, hugged them both quickly, lightly. Sean and Gerald, to my surprise, did the same, without prompting. Jerome shook their hands, murmured good-bye. They did the same. Everyone acted as though nothing had happened. Rashid swung over to his parents on his crutches. He looked his father dead in the eye.

“I wish I could stay tonight, Daddy. But I’ve got some stuff I’ve got to take care of back at school. I’ma be home on the next break, though, for sure. For sure.” Then he hugged his father for a long, long time. Then his mother. We stood by the door. I felt as though I was witnessing something that was a long time coming. Jerome walked out in front of me. I could not imagine what he was thinking. We left without saying any more. I looked at his back and remembered my hands on it, his hands on me. But the memory brought me no warmth now, no pleasure. We stepped out onto the street into air that had become sharply cold. He looked at me as he held the door. But I didn’t meet his eyes.

The Bomb