Now, in the oversized granite kitchen of their Los Altos, California, house, Keith returned to cooking as a way to reach his wife. He wished he could make her Indian food, the one cuisine he had ceded to her expertise but that would bring her the most comfort now. Keith watched how Jaya ate to gauge how she was doing. Some days, she ate ravenously; other times, she just picked at her food. Reluctantly, he came to understand that how Jaya ate bore no relationship to the taste of the food or any true appetite. She was eating purely for sustenance, when her body reminded her it needed as much. Despite Jaya’s indifference, Keith continued to prepare meals, hoping it would bring them all back to the table.

10 | Karina

July 2009

The calendar hung on the wall of Karina’s bedroom, featuring photos of her and Prem every month. When she turned the page to July, she was confronted with a full-page image of her grinning, toothless brother, holding a dripping ice pop. He had lost both top front teeth a few weeks earlier and went around proudly showing off his “tunnel” for months. Probably taken with her father’s primitive cell phone camera, the photo was of poor quality—it was grainy and Prem’s eyes were half closed, as they often were when he was smiling big—but it captured her brother’s essence. His goofy smile was so infectious, with that dribble of rocket pop blue at the corner of his mouth, that Karina couldn’t help but smile back. She touched the tip of her nose, then placed her finger on his and let it linger there for a moment.

There was nothing marked on the page for July except the square for the fifteenth, on which she’d drawn a happy face and the name “Gilly.” It was nearly time to pick up their poo-retriever. She smiled again, remembering how Prem had delighted in telling everyone at school about their new self-cleaning puppy. His third-grade teacher had relayed that story to her parents when she came to the memorial service and cried the entire time.

* * *

“We need to set up Gilly’s crate and get everything ready,” Karina said that night at the dinner table, as she spooned fragrant Thai coconut curry atop the jasmine rice on her plate. Some of Dad’s efforts in the kitchen tasted better than others, and this was one of her favorites. She wondered when things would return to normal, with both her parents going to work and Mom rushing in to prepare dinner at night.

She saw her parents exchange a glance. “I can do it,” Karina said. “It’s in the garage?”

“Honey,” her father said. She noticed he hadn’t yet served himself any food. Her mother’s plate held only plain rice, which she was pushing around with her fork. “Honey, we’ve been talking and”—he exhaled a heavy breath—“we don’t think this is the right time to bring a puppy home. Maybe in—”