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Late that evening, Rick called as I was lounging in bed, Lili beside me, Rochester at my feet.
“Another triumph for Rochester the wonder dog,” Rick said. “I went over to the Sharifs this evening to quiz the father about that flashlight, and he told me the same thing he told you—that he’d grabbed one from the box on Friday as he closed the store, but then lost it almost immediately.”
“Did he realize why you were asking?”
“Didn’t seem to. But Asya’s mother must have figured it out, because she started to cry. She didn’t cry at all when I told them she was dead, but she’s crying about a flashlight? I thought that was weird so kept talking to her, drawing her out about Asya.”
Rochester got up from the foot of the bed and clambered toward me, as if he wanted to hear what Rick was saying.
“Eventually she told me that she’d found a pregnancy test in the trash on Friday evening. That she and the father had confronted the girl and she admitted she was still seeing Wafiq.”
“That couldn’t have gone over well.”
“Apparently not. The father sent her to her room and confiscated her phone. He saw a text from Wafiq confirming they were meeting at the café, and he texted Wafiq back to say yes. He drove over to Wafiq’s house and took the distributor cap from his truck, then drove to the café to wait for Asya. He followed her in and confronted her.”
“What did he say—was it an accident?”
“Nope. He was almost proud of killing her. He said that he did what Allah would have wanted. The girl was a blot on her family and her culture and needed to be eliminated.” He sighed deeply. “Needless to say, I arrested him, and we let Wafiq go.”
After I hung up, I turned to Lili. Rochester was snuggled in between us, and I stroked his head as I told her what Rick had said.
“That is just tragic,” she said. “That any father could find a way to justify killing his own child.”
I thought back to our conversation about how we both feared for Eastern students, because the world was such a dangerous place and young people were so vulnerable. “Storgē only goes so far,” I said. “But I’ll be happy if it always stays here, between you, me and Rochester.”
She leaned over the dog’s bulk to kiss me, and he squirmed around so that he could lick both our faces.
The day before Valentine’s Day, Gail texted me to say that she had some special treats at the café. I said I’d stop by on my way home from work.
February 14th dawned bright and sunny, as if Mother Nature was shining on lovers everywhere. I gave Rochester his peanut butter bones, and Lili her camera lens mug and the package of guava delicacies. She knew my weakness for chocolate, and she had a whole basket of treats for me, which I promised to share with her.
That evening I stopped at the café, assuming Gail had some more pupcakes for Rochester. She did, but she also had a heart-shaped chocolate cake, perfect for two, to give me. “Rick told me that you helped him find out that it was Asya’s father who killed her,” she said. “Declan and I wanted to say thank you.”
I noticed that Gail was wearing the diamond and emerald engagement ring Declan had showed me. “So he asked you,” I said, nodding toward it.
She beamed. “He did. And of course I said yes.”
I congratulated her, and as I did I remembered those four types of love Lili’s student had chronicled. I was sure that Gail’s and Declan’s wedding would cover agápe, éros, philía, and storgē, and I told her that Lili and I would be delighted to celebrate with them however they wanted.
“For starters, the new room is going to be ready next week,” she said. “You and Lili and Rochester will have to be there for our grand opening.”
And grand I knew it would be, though tinged with loss. A darkness had fallen over that single room. But with lots of love, of all types, it could become a place of joy. I looked forward to being a part of that.
