“Oh no, I’m just a lapsed atheist. But it was that experience on the beach I told you about that got me into all this.”

“Have you had a chance to explore Buddhism?”

“Buddhism is especially interesting to me, once you can get past the robes and ten syllable words. But it’s the overlapping concepts in all religions that I find reassuring, but also fairly frustrating.”

“How is that?”

“Well, for instance, I’ve been reading a translation of the Qur’an, which says, ‘Do not be deceived by the life of this world.’ A sentiment I can safely say is echoed through every religion I’ve encountered. Now, with so much overlap it amazes me the lengths people go to imposing separation and creating disorder just so they can leverage power over others. It makes me angry.”

“I can understand why it would, but try and see the bigger picture, Max.“

“You mean historically?”

“Not quite. Listen to this story. When I was in the last year of my undergraduate degree, I hired some decorators to paint my new apartment. They were Navajo. When the work was finished, they had done a beautiful job, but in each room had left a tiny square at the top of the wall unpainted. When I asked about this, they said the gods enter our lives through imperfection, and so it would be better for me to leave it.”

“Did you?”

Carol laughed, “Yes, reluctantly, but today I’m grateful for what they did.” Then she paused. “In the same way, you must learn to reconcile your ideal world with the one we live in.”

“I’m trying, but I get upset when I think about how Hadley will suffer.”

“My father used to say to watch those we love suffer without being able to do anything is to know how god feels.”

“Was he religious?”

“Only when things were outside of his control. Anyway, it’s good you’ve made all this progress on your own.”

“You should have seen me a few weeks ago.”

“Well, Max, that’s arguably the most challenging time. When a person feels most alone, singled out, even.”

“But I still haven’t told Hadley. I want to have a plan before I do . . . because of our experience with Adam.”

“Your son?”

“Yes. I can’t change what’s happening to me, or what happened to him, but I can affect how my death changes her life once I’m gone. Do you think that’s possible?”

“It can be our goal, Max. I have some suggestions for you to weigh up, but is there anything you had in mind? You know her better than anyone.”

=Carol was wonderful. For the next few months, I saw her twice per week. She had a deep voice, a smoker’s voice, and cropped black hair. She had grown up in Harlem, and her office on Central Park West was a place of cushions, wicker, and 1970s paperbacks.