But suddenly our life came down to one thing: Catholics against MILF. After what happened to his parents, it was the only thing Lorenzo cared about. Suddenly he was going to protests and meetings, and then he needed to buy a typewriter, and even Father Emilio complained about how often he was using the rectory copy machine. He was out of the house all the time too, but the money stopped coming in. Like one minute there was money, and the next there wasn't. I don't know if you know what that's like, Larissa.

I asked him what he thought he was doing. He said he had never cared about nothing before, except drinking and having a good time. But MILF was taking over Mindanao. And we had to stop them. I wanted to ask who "we" was but was too afraid. Mindanao cannot be MILF island. This country is ninety-five percent Catholic. For forty years they lived side by side with us, but not peacefully. The government wanted to end once and for all the Christians being killed daily on Manila streets, and also to stimulate the tourist trade in Mindanao, which had vanished because of the unrelenting attacks and burnings and deaths. So the government agreed to something called the Memorandum of Agreement on Ancestral Domain, a long-standing MILF demand. Lorenzo said the government simply surrendered the island of Mindanao to the MILF in return for peace. "But they don't understand that they'll have neither," Lorenzo said. This meant war.

I said, (I may have yelled) Lorenzo, what are you talking about? What war? We are going to have a baby.

He said our baby will not be safe. Like his parents, apolitical fishermen in tiny Zamboanga, were not safe. No one is safe anymore, he said.

Two weeks ago he joined the Peace Brigade, which is another name for street fighters, and he's taken to the streets in full riot geara"a flak jacket, a helmet and weapons! Of course, the MILF rebels are raising even more trouble than the Peace Brigade, to make the government ratify the agreement faster.

I don't know what to do. I have no one but Lorenzo, and he's gone mad. He won't even go to Father Emilio to be helped. All the work he does now he does pro bono for the Catholic League, and they feed him in return, and Father Emilio feeds me, but we live in a shack that costs three thousand pesos a month, and Lorenzo no longer makes any money. This is my pregnancy. He's insane with grief and rage, he talks like I've never heard him talk, of nationalism, of separatist insurgencies, of continued clashes and protests on Manila streets until the government stops negotiating with terrorists, of what's right, of revenge.

And the worst is, Father Emilio is not on my side! He thinks Lorenzo may have a point! He says, how can the rebels consider themselves autonomous when ninety-eight percent of their operating revenue comes from the Philippine government? After fifteen years of having an autonomous region, they haven't created any other significant source of sustainable revenue, and yet they want more autonomy? And they're killing Filipino civilians every day as if it's their right. "Lorenzo is fighting for justice," says Father Emilio.

Larissa, help me. I'm lost. What do I do?

3.

Chris Chase

Attempting to forge an occasional evening for her and Kai, Larissa found a new colorist in the city on 21st and Ninth. She scheduled an appointment for the evening and told Jared that was all they had. He looked miffed, and when she pressed him, he said, "Yeah, I'm ticked off because hair color for you is once every six weeks, and I don't want to get into a crazy habit where you're going into the city every month at night when you can get color at Kim's until 2:30 every day."

"Kim, Kim," said Larissa. "Paul at Chris Chase is the best."

"Okay, where did you read that?"

"Allure."

"Allure. Swell. You've been going to Kim for seven years, and now suddenly you're going to the city for hair color? Honestly, Larissa. If you were meeting Bo for dinner, if you and Maggie were going to see a show, if you were doing something fun, I'd say, absolutely, by all means."

"Would you?" she said quietly. "Well, what's the difference?"

"To go in at night to get your hair done? It's odd. It's not normal."

Gritting her teeth, turning away, Larissa said with her back to him, "I already made the appointment." It was obvious this was not going to be the success she'd hoped for. She was trying to work it out so that once a month she and Kai could go have dinner together. The colorist really was supposed to be great. She scheduled him for Wednesday, which was Kai's early day; he finished at six and agreed to meet her in the city by seven.

She was done with her hair a few minutes before seven and waited for him, ridiculously excited on the corner of 23rd and Ninth, decked out in a sea-green clingy cashmere tunic over black leggings and high patent leather boots. She wore her shearling coat open, her jewelry sparkling, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s rising and falling with antic.i.p.ation. She stood on the sidewalk near a short fence, looking at her watch, flinging around her beautifully done head of hair, long, silk straight and smooth, with red lowlights and blonde highlights on a base of light brown; it looked fantastic; Allure was right, Paul was a magician. She licked her lip gloss, eagerly impatient in the cold, fluttering like she was seventeen going on her first date, and bitter-sweetly realizing that aside from sitting in the car or being in his apartment, this was indeed their first time out anywhere, and even through her excitement feeling a pang of sadness for Kai that he spent his weeks and days, his months and hours waiting for her to grace him with an hour of her presence, and she was still standing, tapping her heels on the pavement when she heard a female voice say, "Larissa?"

Paling, Larissa stepped slightly away from the wrought-iron fence and turned in the direction of the voice.

It was Kate, Doug's wife.

Doug Grant, Jared's co-worker, accountant, office manager, second financial officer, friend, and there was his wife, on a New York City street, smiling at Larissa, just as it was falling dark and 7:10 and Kai would be upon them any minute.

"Hi, Kate, what a surprise! What are you doing here?" said Larissa shrilly, stepping forward to kiss her h.e.l.lo.

"My law firm is on 23rd and Tenth. I walk this way every night to catch the subway." Kate smiled. "The surprise is to see you here."

"Oh, I'ma"I just got my hair done."

"I was going to say it looks smashing."

"Thanks. So how are the kids?" Larissa desperately tried not to fidget.

"Good, everybody is good." Kate looked Larissa over. "All of you is looking pretty smashing tonight," the woman said. "I'm impressed. You dress like this to get your hair done?"

Larissa laughed loudly. "You're funny. So how's Douglas?"

"He's great." Kate rolled her eyes.

"And the new car? You enjoying it?" Larissa willed herself not to turn to the busy street to scan the crowds of faces. Maybe he would be a few minutes delayed and Kate would leave soon. Maybe, maybe, maybea "The new car is all the rage. It was supposed to be for me, except I never see it. Doug takes it everywhere, like a purse."

Larissa fake laughed again. "You must put your foot down. I didn't even know you worked in the city, Kate."

"Of course you did. You just forgot. Legal secretary. Been with the same firm fifteen years. Any minute now I'm going to get a gold watch."

"Hey, better than a golden handshake. And who takes care of the kiddies while you're away?"

"Oh, we have a lady from Nepal. She's our third one. We like the Nepalese. The language skills aren't great, but they're wonderful with babies."

Larissa tried hard not to glance down the street, not to look for him, not to look like she was about to have a heart attack, fall down. She stepped closer to the fence, to grasp one of the wrought-iron poles in her cold white hand.

"Are you taking the train back?" asked Kate.

"I am, yes."

"Great. You want to walk to Penn? It's not too cold out. We can bundle up, burn off a little lunch, ride home together."

"Um, yes, that would be wonderfulaI meant I'm taking the train later. I'd love to walk with you, but the thing is, I'm meeting a friend for dinner."

"Oh." b.u.t.toning up her big down coat, Kate smiled at Larissa's black shiny boots. "Well, listen, the four of us must go out to dinner and spend all evening arguing about the various merits of our respective Jag models."

"Yes, let's," said Larissa. "There's supposed to be a great Italian place in Madison."

"Madison? A little far, but okay. Doug will be happy to drive, no doubt." They kissed, they hugged, and Kate was about to walk away from Larissa when she said, "Kai? Kai Pa.s.sani?"

Oh my G.o.d. She knew him! Of course. He sold Doug and Kate their Jaguar. What a nightmare.

Larissa was forced on a darkened street to endure watching Kai shake Kate's hand, express surprise at seeing her, and answer her exclamations.

"Yes, nice to see you, too. Oh, you're welcome for the car. My pleasure. Thank you for the Cristal. Much appreciated. Yes, of course; I put it to very good use. What? Oh, just meeting up with a couple of friends. And how are you enjoying your new vehicle, Mrs. Grant?"

Kate spent three minutes telling Kai how much her husband was enjoying her new vehicle, and all the while Kai expressed vocal amus.e.m.e.nt while Larissa stood nearby and pretended she didn't know either of them, didn't speak English, was like the lady from Nepal, just standing on the corner, waiting for the truck to run her over or take her back to the old country.

"I'm sorry, how rude of me. Kai, do you remember Larissa Stark? You sold her a convertible!" Kate was ebullient. "She's the reason we came to see you. The way she raves about that vehicle."

"Well, she's right to. It is a fine car indeed," Kai said, slightly tilting his head to Larissa. "Nice to see you again, Mrs. Stark."

"Yes, you too," said Larissa, barely moving her numb lips.

The three of them stood for a long moment, and Kai said, "Well, ladies, have a wonderful evening. Enjoy your cars." He bowed his head to Kate and walked past Larissa, who clenched her mouth in mute acknowledgment of his pa.s.sing her by, but didn't otherwise allow herself even a blink at his leather jacket, at his jeans, at the profound look of condemnation and distress in his eyes as he walked by her, not six inches away from her on a busy street, turned his body toward her instead of away from her to pa.s.s, and said, "Excuse me," in a bark too cold and clipped for a stranger, while Larissa stood motionless, speechless, but when she turned her head to wave goodbye to Kate, she caught the woman watching them, and there was an odd glint in Kate's frowning puzzled expression, imperceptible if only it weren't so tangible, like a darkening realization of something untoward and electric right in front of her tired eyes.

Larissa did the only thing left to her. She had to deny Kai. She had to deny him with all her heart.

"Kate, wait!" Hurrying, Larissa caught up with her. "Can you hang on a sec?"

"I'm going to miss my train," Kate said coolly.

"Yeah, just a sec. I don't know why, but my friend is not showing up. She's a half-hour late. And she's not answering her cell. I wonder if she got held up or something. Hang on, okay, I'm going to check my messages."

Silently, Kate waited. Larissa checked her fake messages on her real phone. "Can you believe it," she said, tutting. "I've been standing here like a fool for thirty minutes, and she'd called at six to say she couldn't make it. d.a.m.n. You mind if I walk with you? Maybe we can take that train back home together after all."

That seemed to deflate the balloon of suspicion inside Kate Grant, because she smiled and relaxed, looking noticeably relieved. They started walking toward Seventh Avenue without giving Kai another backward glance. And Larissa, falling inside, horrified for him, for herself, for her own f.u.c.ked-up, slowly unraveling life, could only imagine what Kai must have been thinking as he stood on the street watching her walk away.

They caught the 8:02. It was thirty-three excruciating minutes to Maplewood, forty-five to Summit. They sat by the window across from each other and chatted, and when fifteen minutes had pa.s.sed, Kate t.i.ttered nervously. "You want to know how silly I am? You know when we were standing there, and we ran into our car salesmana"

"Yeah?"

"I don't know, it's almost funny now, oh, it's so dumb, but for a second, as he walked past you, I saw him look at you like he knew you."

"Who?"

"The Jag salesman."

"Well, he does know me," said Larissa. "He sold me the car."

"No, I know. But there was something else in how close he walked by you. I mean he looked at you like he knew you."

"On a crowded rush-hour city street?"

"Exactly! But you didn't move away, you see. You didn't even step away." Kate giggled. "I think I've watched too many Days of our Lives in my youth. For a minute there, I could've sworn you were meeting him for dinner, the way he walked by you, staring so intensely into your face. And you wouldn't even lift your eyes to him. Watching it from the outside, it was really quite a stunning moment. Glowing with possibilities."

Larissa giggled herself. "Kate, that's quite an imagination you've got there. You should be a writer."

"Really? Funny you should say that. I have been dabbling a bita"

"Have you? Why don't you tell me about it."

Kate beamed, and was off non-stop for the next ten minutes until Maplewood when Larissa kissed her goodbye.

She couldn't get a signal on the train, but as soon as she was at her car in Summit, she called Kai. He didn't pick up. She left a message. "I'm so, so sorry," she said. "Please forgive me."

She texted him.

There was no answer.

She sat in her car with her head on the wheel. Two more trains came.

Then she drove home. Drove slow like the mob were waiting for her, having accused her of breaking the law of omerta, about to dip her feet in liquid cement and after it had hardened, throw her into the Pa.s.saic River.

"Emily! Have you practiced your cello?" she barked as soon as she came inside and found the children in the den playing video games and watching TV.

"Um, no."

Larissa slapped off the TV. "You know the rules. You don't sit down until all the work is done. Go practice. I knew you were going to take advantage of your dad. Go!"

"I was watching Michelangelo for you!" Emily yelled. "I was babysitting! How am I supposed to practice when I'm playing trucks with him?"

"Always with your excuses!" Larissa yelled. "How do I manage to cook dinner and clean the kitchen, and help you with your homework and Asher with his while I'm playing trucks with Michelangelo? Go, I said. I don't want to hear anything but sounds of cello for the next thirty minutes!"

Emily stomped off. Asher sat at the computer desk quiet as a mouse. Michelangelo came and hugged Larissa around the leg. This was all before she took off her coat. Jared silently watched her from the entrance to the kitchen.

"Well, h.e.l.lo to you, too," he said.

"h.e.l.lo. But you know she is supposed to practice her cello."

"I don't know what she did and didn't do before I got home."

"You have no right to be that oblivious. She's got her winter concert next week." She stormed past him.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't be gallivanting around New York when your children need you," Jared said, following her into the kitchen. "I don't know what's going on. I barely remembered to bring home pizza. Good thing Em called to remind me."

But Larissa had stopped listening. "Asher! How many times do I have to tell youa"after you're done with your homework put your d.a.m.n books away."

"I just got done."

"So put them away! Don't wait for me to yell at you. Just do it!"

"I put my books away, Mommy," said Michelangelo.

"Well, you're a good boy," she said. "But I did notice that you didn't put your trucks away after you were done playing with them. You know the rules. Done with something? Put it away." She grabbed on to the side of the counter to steady herself.

"I wasn't done playing with them," the boy said.

"Well, I suggest you get to it. It's bath in five minutes."