Page 126 of A Thousand Painted Hours

“They did, but when they said you were still sleeping, both Gurdaya and Channan insisted you be able to sleep as long as you required.”

I gave a little snort of laughter. “Two days is a bit long.”

“It can be good to sleep at times of transition.”

Transition, I thought, finding a knot of sorrow in my throat. Had I truly left Peter for good? “I suppose that’s true.”

“I hope you will feel you can talk to me again, Elsie,” he said and offered a fresh date from a small bowl. “That we can find a way into ... whatever form this takes now.”

I didn’t want to talk to him about what had happened with Peter. Even the thought of it made shame crawl up my neck, heating my ears. I looked away. “If I don’t, it has nothing to do with our trying to find a new footing.”

“Then what?”

Words welled and then caught in my throat. I shook my head.

We stretched out on cushions covered by patterned blankets, and the night was cool, so we wrapped up with the blankets, lying side by side. “I cannot believe how many stars you can see.”

“It is quite arid here, and that makes the view very clear.” He pointed. “Meteor.”

I watched it streak across. “What other constellations are we seeing now?”

“Garmi ka Musallasis the summer triangle, made of Vega, Deneb, and Altair.” He pointed toward each one, brighter than many around them. “Of course, Thurayya, the Seven Sisters. Famous in poetry.”

“Mmm.” Some piece of me that had been taut for months, maybe years, began to unwind. “Why are they called the Seven Sisters?”

“Ah, that is a good tale. The sisters were the offspring of Atlas, who was condemned to hold up the sky, and Pleione, a sea nymph. When al-Jabbar, the hunter, saw them, he fell in love and pursued them across the earth.”

“He fell in love with all of them?”

“Gods have mighty appetites.”

“Ah.”

“When their father heard about the pursuit, the sisters were exhausted and weary. Atlas took pity on them and turned them into stars, where even in the sky, they huddle together for safety.” I watched him trace the cluster. “Al-Jabbarpursued them into the sky, and now chases them for all eternity.”

“Justice for his greed.”

“Indeed.”

“You rhymed.”

“I did.” He glanced at me. “On purpose.”

Dying stars fell across the sky in red and white and green. Next to me was the solid, breathing presence of Tanveer, whom I’d missed for literally years. I’d missed the sound of his voice, his particular phrasings. Missed his chuckle. Missed this way he had of telling a story at every turn. It did not matter that we were not lovers. I felt the tattered bits ofmy soul, shredded so badly over the years of struggle, begin to reweave themselves.

“I am very grateful you’re here,” he said quietly, reading my mind. “The world rights itself when I’m in your company.”

“Yes,” I said, and looked at him. “Has your world been akilter?”

“It has. A society in upheaval seems to always turn to violence, no matter how we try to structure it more carefully.”

“What of Mr. Gandhi’s nonviolence?”

“A good movement, but I do not know if it will be enough.”

“I’m sorry.”

“This, too, shall pass.”