THE WALRUS SWAM FORWARD until its great mustached face was just a few inches from Nadim’s own. It hung there, in the bright blue depths, weightless in the water, buoyant as a huge ungainly angel, though its face was mournful, with the sadness of all trapped animals. They had a moment together, the human and the beast, staring into each other’s eyes, and then the gray boulder swirled off toward the other side of its tank.
Nadim shivered, though it was actually rather warm in the aquarium’s dark viewing room. He took out his wallet and squinted at its contents: only twenty-seven dollars left. He had been crazy, spending money on the admission fee; who knew how long he might have to make the rest last? He couldn’t go back to his apartment, couldn’t return to Jackson Heights. If he tried to pick up shifts from some new car service, the owner would want references, and then what would his old boss say? Yes, Nadim was an excellent driver but unreliable. And then there’s the little matter of the police coming around and asking why he killed a man …
Despite its briny, rather rank smell, Nadim could normally find a certain measure of peace in the aquarium, staring into the tanks at the seals and manta rays gliding through their worlds. And pausing, of course, to watch the jellyfish, those pulsing, shimmering umbrellas of light. But now he shoved his trembling hands into his pockets. He remembered how he used to feel when he drank too many cups of coffee to make it through a long driving shift. This was like that, but triple—as if he couldn’t stand being inside his own skin. He watched the walrus swimming round and round in a circle, in its underwater cage, where the scenery never varied, where nothing new and good could ever happen to it. He wondered if it wondered how its natural free life had shrunk down to this.
Blue shadows rippled across the walls. Nadim’s thoughts turned, as they always did here, to his daughter. To Enny’s face, round, bespectacled, beaming with pride as she helped him wash the town car on a Sunday afternoon. She would lecture him if they didn’t get every square inch sparkling clean. He remembered one time when he had interrupted her instructions by spraying her with the hose. He had expected her to giggle, but she had broken into tears. His heart ached for her: she didn’t seem to know how to play, to be a young girl, to have spontaneous fun. Maybe it was because of her utterly humorless, falsely pious mother and grandfather, or the way the other children teased her—maybe Nadim had unintentionally echoed their unkindness. He wished he could apologize, could hold her close.
He thought of his daughter and of the soapy car, and that got him considering the future of the plan. Maybe he couldn’t contribute his fair share of the necessary money, but he could still offer his skill. They would need drivers, that was certain. He had not counted on such a direct role, not the way he’d laid it out in his mind, but that was when things were simpler, when he wasn’t on the run. But maybe, if he could just stay out of trouble for a few weeks, things would calm down again, and he could rejoin the others and help make the plan happen. He could do his part.
A mother wandered into the dark room with two small children in tow, and again Nadim’s thoughts returned to his daughter. To Enny’s face shining in the light of her bedside lamp, as he read her favorite story. What was it that Heer had cried out when her beloved Ranjha was taken? “Oh, Lord, destroy this town and these cruel people so that justice may be done!”
And the evildoers paid for their wrongs as they writhed in the flames.
Perhaps his wife had been right after all.
Perhaps it truly was the will of Allah.