Tradition had them do a prayer to the prophet Elijah before Shaan could dish out the malida. And so the great heaping plate of fragrant rice decorated with ripe fruit lay untouched on the table a moment longer as Theo and the Rawals sat and listened with watering mouths and emotions to Jatiq’s clear and musical recitation of the Hindi-fied Hebrew. The words had a mysterious symmetry to them, like the raft a lullaby provides a baby, something ancient carrying Theo to the centre of himself. His first taste of the malida was an indecipherable song.

Shaan did most of the eating and talking, he was confident with many plates of both. Liam’s unpredictability I loved, Shaan mused while chewing, even his compulsive lying. And money loved Liam. Wherever Liam went, money followed. What could Theo say to that? He said he loved the meal. Jatiq was blushing. Fatima was laughing nervously. Anu would only eat roti. And Shaan wondered if Theo knew his son rented a railcar apartment on Saint-Marc all through high school to sleep with his freshman girlfriends and host Nintendo parties on the weekends? No, this was the first Theo’d heard. Liam didn’t kill himself over debts, Shaan had a theory that he never expected to pay anyone back.

Look at the time, midnight, Theo clapped his hands, said his thank yous and goodbyes. See you at the office tomorrow, Shaan said half-asleep at the table. And with a mix of fury and shame and desire, Theo asked the cabbie to drop him off somewhere in the heart of town. There’s no heart of town around here, said the cabbie, not that I know of. Drive me to a gas station then. He bought a pack of Polar Ice gum and gnashed at two pieces until they were one.

He chewed all the way back to Rawal’s house. Thinking gingerly while taking the flagstones around the house, damned if he didn’t alert the motion sensors. More gingerly to the backyard and the glass double doors under the deck. He knocked three times, then hung the gold necklace on the dappled spruce, and crossed the muddy lawn to the broken-down gazebo. Patience, heart. Patience.

A whirlwind of almond flakes caught his eye, a little nebula twinkling closer. Jatiq appeared out of night’s dark reminders and sat beside him on the wrought iron bench. And she didn’t object to Theo’s hand on hers as they looked up through a veil of branches to the clear sky.

The nerve of the universe for bringing us together, said Jatiq.

Were we happier apart? asked Theo.

Jatiq Kalaa Sima Divekar smelled like the fallen petals of a gulab rose. She poured the necklace into his hand, and held his vaulted fist.

Theo could not sleep that night, and the following day he ran blindly through tutorials of the online management application for Shaan’s team at AOL, and, as if it went well, Shaan took him shopping at Urban Lifestyles after work and asked Theo what he thought of his life, Not bad, huh? he said before Theo could answer. My career is solid, got great staff under me. Really, Jatiq’s my lifesaver, without her — whole edifice crumbles.

Theo imagined the night ahead when he would knock on Jatiq’s glass door, decorate the tree, wait in the gazebo. She did meet him and slipped the necklace to him right away. It stopped raining, so they ventured out onto the road, away from the shallow hum of the highway toward Sumas Mountain. Another panicked landing for Theo — sliding into a booth at the restaurant beside the Days Inn hotel. She asked him if this was his hotel, and he said, Yes, it was, and she said, …I can’t. Then come live with me in Montreal, he said. We can visit the Rawals any time, Jatiq. She pressed her fingers to her mouth, We haven’t even kissed…