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care about me, too. Now he cares about Lauren. “Sure he does. All men love women—as many as they can get.”
    “Since when did you become so bitter? Don’t take it out on me just because Robert turned out to be such a pig. Dilip is not Robert. And you’re not yourself anymore.”
    “Nope, I’m not,” I say flatly, refusing to show any pain over her words. “Robert leached all the self out of me.”
    “You don’t have to be so mean.” She busies herself fluffing the pillows. “You’re just like Ma and Dad. So pessimistic, always thinking the worst, giving me advice as if I’m a child. Dad still thinks I might become a cardiac surgeon when I grow up. He thinks I’m playing dress-up at the boutique. Wake up, Dad. Hello. I’m never going to cut open anyone’s rib cage.”
    “Dad wanted me to be a pediatrician.” I type an e-mail to Robert as I’m talking, a polite refusal of the lowball offer on the condo. I hit the Send button. “Can you imagine?”
    “And me a surgeon!” Gita hugs a pillow to her chest.
    “Can you picture it? You doing open-heart surgery and me prescribing penicillin to snotty-nosed kids?”
    “Kids aren’t so bad.” Gita frowns. “I wouldn’t mind having a few kids someday….”
    “Why? If you get divorced, they’ll be just another part of the battle.”
    “Who says there will be any divorce?”
    “Statistics. Most first marriages end in divorce.”
    “You’re worse than bitter. You’re—I don’t know what! Robert really did a number on you, didn’t he? Don’t you still believe in love? Can’t you believe in it for my sake?”
    A familiar ache settles beneath my ribs. I gaze out the window at the rough water, lit by a pale, indifferent moon. No matter what goes on below, the moon still travels across the sky. Cities burn; wars rage; civilizations topple and disappear. Lonely women cry. And yet that damned moon keeps rising and falling. The water keeps flowing in the sea—and Robert keeps living without me.
    I take a deep breath, and my insides fall like an elevator full of stones. “Honestly, Gita, I don’t know what I believe in anymore.”

Chapter 7
     
    In the morning, after a quick breakfast of cereal and two cups of extra-strong coffee, I bundle up, shove files into my briefcase, sling my handbag over my shoulder, and head for the front door. All for the love of Auntie Ruma.
    “Wait. I made you lunch.” Ma rushes up, waving a paper bag, and suddenly I’m a kid again, heading off to school. I have the same sinking feeling—as if I’m about to take a test, and I forgot to study.
    “Thanks, Ma. You didn’t have to do that. I was going to buy my lunch.”
    “Why waste your money? Everything is overpriced at Island Market. No competition.” She stuffs the paper bag into my gigantic handbag. “What on earth have you got in there? You’re carrying all that stuff to the bookstore?”
    “I’ve got some work I need to get done. I need to make a few calls on the way. Where can I get a cell phone signal?”
    “Best chance is along the waterfront, before you round the bend into town. Watch out for the waves. They sneak up on you.”
    “See you later, Ma.” Waves, my eye. My mother loves to warn me about the dangers in life. My plane might crash. Auntie’s house will go up in flames. I’ll trip, crack my head open, and end up in a coma. And now errant ocean waves will drown me.
    But I can get a good calf workout in the sand, so I make for the beach. I spot pink cockleshells, white clamshells, blue and red chunks of volcanic rock. I can’t stop to pick them up. I’ve got too much weight on my shoulders.
    A gaggle of cormorants chatters on the waves. Seagulls hover above, calling in their high-pitched voices. I speed walk past a couple of early risers—an elderly woman and man strolling hand in hand. They look so happy, like two pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together.
    My answer to melancholy—technology. I’m on the phone, finally checking my