Page 33 of You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty

Jonah. Jonah. Jonah. Feyi almost laughed. The water in a nearby fountain sounded like it was singing. She was too tired to lie. “Oh, the usual. A car on fire. My dead husband.”

She felt Alim’s gaze on her again, but she didn’t want to look and see the pity on his face. At least now it was almost impossible to crush awkwardly on him—bringing up Jonah usually stripped the fantasy away from any situation she was in, even if it did leave it bleak. And it felt true to call him her husband still. They’d never broken up, he wasn’t an ex, he was just … dead. An image from the dream flickered back, Jonah’s hand moving, even as mangled as it was. Feyi had forgotten about that.

“He was alive,” she said out loud. “Sometimes my brain blurs out that he was alive when I came to.” Then the black bag. “He died by the time the paramedics got there.” It was amazing, she thought, how she wasn’t crying already, saying all this.

Alim steepled his fingers under his chin. “Did Nasir ever tell you how his mother died?” he asked.

Feyi glanced at him, surprised. She was used to people bubbling over with discomfort whenever she shared details of the crash—either that, or they tried to touch her in ways they thought might be comforting but rarely were.

Alim looked back at her, his face still and open, and Feyi shook her head. “No,” she said, “he never did.”

He nodded, his eyes sliding back out into the garden. “She drowned,” he said. “In a bay we’d gone swimming in a thousand times before. It was the most”—he shook his head—“it was the most unreal thing, the way the current took her. Na-sir and Lorraine were so little. They were on the beach, I was trying to keep Lorraine out of the water. I didn’t notice. I didn’t notice it took her until it was too late.” He paused and took a deep breath. “They found her body by the rocks.”

Feyi put her hand on his arm, and he turned his head to her, surprised by her touch. “What was her name?” she asked.

“Hmm.” He smiled at nothing. “Marisol. She was … everything.” Alim shook his head and caught himself, placing a hand on top of hers. “But! I did not mean to trade war stories. Only to say, I know the particular pain of losing the one you love before your very eyes. I am sorry,” he said, “for the hurt that lives in your heart.”

Feyi opened her mouth and found that her throat was dry and empty. She was touching too much of him, his arm under her hand, his palm on top of it. She drew back her hand and swallowed nothing. “Thank you,” she managed to croak out.

“What was his name? And how long has it been?” he asked.

Jonah. Five years, seven months, nineteen days. “Jonah,” she said. “About five and a half years.”

“I wish I could tell you it gets easier—”

“It doesn’t,” she interrupted.

Alim put his chin in his hand and propped his elbow on his knee. “No, no. But it gets … older. It grows with you.”

Feyi looked over at him. “How long has it been for you?”

Alim chuckled. “Ah. Twenty years, four months.” He tilted his head to smile at her, boyish in the moonlight.

“Eight days.”

“Did you love again?”

Alim studied her, his head sideways, his eyes searching her face. “I see why Nasir calls you direct,” he said.

Feyi blushed. “I’m sorry. It’s an inappropriate question.”

Alim waved his hand. “There’s no such thing. I like your bluntness, and the answer is, I don’t know. Maybe.” He made an expressive twist with his mouth. “Not like that, though, no. Not in the same way. But I’ve loved other things.”

“Like what?”

“My children. My work. My memories.”

“Did you stay here because of her?” Feyi wondered if she was pushing too much, why she was even asking.

“Out of nostalgia, you mean? No, no. I stayed because of the restaurant, because of what I’ve been making here that I couldn’t make anywhere else. It had to be on this mountain.”

Feyi looked around. “I can’t wait to see more of it.”

“There is time,” Alim replied, unbothered. “But I have a question for you.”

Feyi laughed. “At this point, it’s only fair.”

“Do you love Nasir?”