We traveled down to Cairo that same day. Aunt Monique met us at the station and took us to her apartment.

—

Peter’s right cheek was hard, shiny and crimson, hatched with chisel marks of such a deep purple that they were almost black. White bandages spread from his nose to his forehead. Over his right eye socket, now empty, a round pad that made a lump under the bandage. On his left a bulge. A small cage the shape of half an egg was protecting his precious remaining eye.

A shell had done this, exploding just outside his cockpit, shattering the hood, driving shards of Perspex into his face. He had taken off his goggles to see better while he chased a 109 into the clouds above Misrata. Another 109 had followed him, fired, and missed. Missed killing him, I mean.

Aunt Monique ran lavender baths for Célia and cooked her bowls of broth with vermicelli. Aunt Monique was glorious still, her lips covered in a rich wine-red sheen. I spent a lot of time wondering how much her makeup cost. It was better than thinking about Peter.

I wanted to give him and Célia their privacy but they liked me to be with them. I think they were scared to sit together alone. I would take a chair by the window and look down at the nurses. They lived on a houseboat on the bank of the Nile right next to the hospital, and on their free afternoons they’d have tea on deck. One nurse had a neat nunlike bun and poured her tea from an English china teapot and sat with her knees pressed together. Another one used to recline with her shoes off, smoking, running her hands through her short shock of hair.

About three weeks after we arrived in Cairo, I saw James again.

—

The light off the river silhouetted everyone who came in through the hospital doorway, so it was just another shadow of a man I saw pausing on the threshold. Many first-timers stopped there, momentarily persuaded by the spacious lobby, the comfortable seating, and the tray-bearing waiters—all Sudanese, all in white tunic, red tarboosh, and red sash—into thinking they had walked by mistake into a first-class hotel.

He paused for a second, and then came forward. I was watching him idly, chin on hand. I spent a lot of time there waiting for Célia. When I recognized him I sprang to my feet. “James!”